Chapter 95: The Ripple Effect

The third quarter began with Penny Hardaway standing a step to Kobe’s left, one hand extended toward the ball while the other directed Horace Grant toward the paint. Orlando wanted Kobe driving right, where Grant and Rony Seikaly could meet him before he reached the basket. Penny’s stance made the invitation obvious, but Kobe had already decided how he wanted to attack.

Shaq approached to set a screen. Kobe glanced toward him, shifted his shoulders, and waited for Penny to move. The moment Penny committed, Kobe planted his left foot, stepped backward, and rose into an eighteen-foot jumper.

Swish.

Lakers 60, Magic 47.

Penny collected the inbound pass without acknowledging the basket. He brought Orlando across half court, directed Nick Anderson through the lane, and worked the ball toward Dennis Scott, whose three-pointer struck the back rim. Shaq secured the rebound and immediately looked upcourt, where Kobe was already moving.

Eddie Jones found him near the right elbow. Kobe caught with his back partially turned, gave Penny a shoulder fake, and spun over his left shoulder into a turnaround jumper. Penny recovered quickly, his fingertips passing inches from the ball, but Kobe’s release was already complete.

Another basket.

On the other end Orlando missed again, and Kobe brought the ball up himself. Grant stepped higher, Anderson drifted toward the driving lane, and Penny squared his shoulders to discourage another jumper. Kobe studied their positions, waited for Shaq to approach, and hesitated just long enough to make Penny glance toward the screen.

Then he stepped behind the three-point line.

Penny lunged forward, but he was already too late.

The shot dropped cleanly through the net.

65–47.

Brian Hill called timeout before Kobe reached half court. Seven consecutive points had pushed the Lakers’ lead to eighteen, and Orlando Arena had gone from roaring at the start of the quarter to groaning at every touch.

After the timeout, Penny answered immediately, determined to stop Kobe from turning the game into a blowout.

He rejected Seikaly’s screen, crossed left, and slipped into the lane before Shaq could rotate.

His floater kissed the backboard and dropped through.

On the following possession, he fooled Kobe with a glance toward Anderson, crossed back toward the middle, and finished a finger roll over the recovering defense.

Then came a pull-up jumper.

Six unanswered points.

65–53.

Orlando Arena had found its voice again.

Kobe caught the inbound pass and slowed near half court. He could hear the crowd, but his attention remained on Penny’s feet. The older guard wasn’t gambling or reaching. He was studying Kobe’s rhythm, recognizing the moments when his weight shifted before a move.

Kobe liked that.

He drove left, stopped near the baseline, and spun toward the middle. Penny recovered, but Kobe had already elevated. The jumper fell, and Penny answered with another pull-up after forcing a switch onto Elden Campbell.

The two continued trading baskets over the next several minutes.

Kobe added another jumper from the elbow, then slipped behind Penny for a layup off Eddie’s pass.

Every time Los Angeles threatened to pull away, Penny found another answer, refusing to let the Lakers put the game out of reach.

The exchange continued, but Kobe refused to let it become a contest of difficult jumpers. When Orlando sent Anderson toward him, he moved the ball to Eddie, whose baseline drive created an easy dunk for Shaq.

When Grant abandoned Robert Horry to protect the paint, Kobe found the veteran beyond the arc.

Three.

And when Penny stepped closer to discourage another jumper, Kobe attacked his outside hip, stopped, and stepped through for a layup.

Penny turned toward the referee.

“That’s a travel.”

Kobe jogged past Penny with a grin. “Make sure you tell him how good it looked.”

Penny laughed despite himself.

But the Magic weren’t finished. Penny began manipulating the Lakers’ defense with the same patience Kobe had shown on offense. He drew Shaq away from the rim, found Seikaly cutting behind him, and delivered a crosscourt pass to Scott for three.

Then Orlando cleared one side of the floor.

No screen. No cutter.

Just Penny against Kobe.

The crowd rose as Penny crossed left, then right, testing Kobe’s balance. Kobe matched both movements, refusing to surrender the driving lane. Penny took one hard step forward, drawing Kobe toward the paint, before abruptly stepping backward behind the arc.

Kobe lunged.

The shot was already gone.

Swish.

By the end of the quarter, the score was Lakers 81, Magic 73.

Kobe walked toward the bench, breathing hard. He had scored seventeen points in the quarter, but Penny had answered with fourteen of his own. The Lakers had entered the half leading by eleven, stretched their advantage to eighteen, and watched Orlando fight its way back within eight.

Shaq handed him a towel.

“Y’all finished having your little contest?”

Kobe sat beside him. “Not yet.”

Shaq grinned.

“Because I didn’t come all the way back here to lose.”

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

The fourth quarter began with Kobe and Shaq resting while Fisher, Bowen, Horry, Wallace, and Campbell took the floor. Orlando countered with Darrell Armstrong, Gerald Wilkins, and an exhausted Horace Grant, hoping to recover ground before the Lakers’ stars returned.

Kobe leaned forward, watching Wallace position himself against Grant. The veteran had spent the evening battling Shaq and Campbell, and his movements were beginning to slow. Wallace noticed it too, planting himself beneath the basket with the stubborn determination of someone who had no intention of surrendering a rebound.

Fisher opened the quarter with a floater that Grant blocked, but Wallace ripped away the loose ball and kicked it to Horry.

Three-pointer.

84–73.

Grant answered with a tip-in before Fisher pushed the next possession upcourt. Horry trailed the play, caught the pass near the elbow, and buried another jumper. Wallace forced a difficult attempt on Orlando’s next trip, secured the rebound, and found Fisher racing ahead.

Fisher slowed behind the arc.

Armstrong hesitated.

Three.

89–75.

Timeout, Orlando.

Kobe watched the exchange with quiet satisfaction. His teammates were beginning to understand how dangerous they could be without relying on him or Shaq to manufacture every basket. Horry could stretch the floor, Wallace could dominate the glass, Fisher could control the offense, and Bowen could make opposing scorers miserable.

They were learning to win possessions together.

And they were enjoying themselves.

By the time Harris called Kobe and Shaq back, the Lakers still held a comfortable lead.

Penny returned for Orlando.

The Magic wanted urgency. They wanted rushed decisions, contested jumpers, and enough possessions for Penny to create something extraordinary. Kobe intended to give them none of it.

He worked the ball through Shaq, forcing Orlando to choose between protecting the paint and surrendering open shots. When Seikaly stayed alone, Shaq attacked. When Grant doubled, Kobe moved the ball to Eddie or Horry.

On the following possession, Kobe caught the ball near the right elbow and attacked before Penny could settle into his defensive stance. He pulled up just inside the free-throw line, knocking down the jumper to bring his total to twenty-eight points.

Penny shook his head as they headed back downcourt, but Kobe only smiled. The Magic were running out of time, and every basket made their comeback that much harder.

Then, with a little over two minutes remaining, Penny shifted toward Shaq’s passing lane.

Kobe saw it.

One crossover.

A hard step left.

Penny recovered, and Seikaly moved across the paint, but Kobe was already airborne. He carried the ball beneath the center’s outstretched arm and released it high off the glass.

The basket counted.

The whistle followed.

Shaq threw both arms into the air.

“THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT, KOBE!” he roared. “THEY CAN’T GUARD YOU!”

Kobe stepped to the free-throw line.

Kobe sank the free throw.

Thirty-one points.

Orlando’s final attempts came up short, and the Lakers closed the game through Shaq’s presence inside and disciplined defense on the perimeter. The Magic continued fighting, but every missed opportunity made the remaining seconds feel shorter.

When the final horn sounded, the scoreboard read:

Los Angeles Lakers 104, Orlando Magic 91.

Kobe finished with 31 points, 3 rebounds, and 11 assists. Shaq had 35 points and 12 rebounds, while Penny recorded 27 points, 7 rebounds, 9 assists, 2 steals, and a block.

The numbers told only part of the story.

Shaq headed straight toward Penny.

“Come here, man.”

Penny barely had time to turn before Shaq wrapped him in a hug.

“Shaq! Put me down!”

Shaq laughed and released him.

“You still weigh about a hundred pounds?”

“Enough to stay standing when you ain’t grabbing me.”

“You know I carried your skinny ass.”

Penny pointed toward him.

“And who was throwing you all those passes?”

Shaq opened his mouth, reconsidered, and nodded.

Their laughter softened. For a moment, Kobe watched them standing together, two former teammates surrounded by cameras and the fading noise of a building that had once celebrated them both.

Shaq squeezed Penny’s shoulder.

“You taking care of yourself?”

Penny nodded. “Doing what I can.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Penny met his eyes. Neither spoke for a moment, and Shaq didn’t press him further.

“Just be smart, man.”

Kobe approached after they separated.

Penny accepted his handshake.

Near center court, Shaq stood looking toward the banners above the arena.

Kobe joined him.

“You coming?”

Shaq didn’t answer immediately.

“Used to think I’d play here forever.”

Kobe followed his gaze.

“You miss it?” Kobe asked.

Shaq considered the question.

“Some of it.”

“The fans?”

Shaq laughed. “Not tonight.”

Kobe smiled.

Shaq took one last look around before adjusting the towel over his shoulder.

“Come on, little man. We got a plane to catch.”

“Little man? Just cuz no one is as big as you doesn’t mean you gotta talk like that.”

“To be honest, that’s exactly what it means.”

Kobe shook his head. “You’re impossible.”

Shaq grinned.

“That’s why they pay me.”

They disappeared into the tunnel together and Shaq didn’t look back.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Saturday afternoon should have been quiet at the Lakers’ practice facility.

Instead, Derek Fisher was guarding a folding chair.

“BALL! BALL! SHOT!”

He shuffled left, raised both hands, and closed out on the imaginary shooter.

Ben Wallace watched from the baseline.

“You know that chair ain’t shooting shit, right?”

Fisher straightened. “It’s a defensive drill.”

“Then why’s the chair winning?”

Kobe burst out laughing as he entered.

He hadn’t expected anyone else to be there. After an emotional night in Orlando, most players would have spent their day recovering. But Fisher was working on defense, Bowen was shooting corner threes, and Wallace had apparently decided that rebounding drills were an acceptable Saturday activity.

Kobe approached Bowen, who had just missed from the corner. The forward retrieved the ball, returned to the same spot, and shot again.

“How many you making?” Kobe asked.

“Ten.”

“You’ve been here a while.”

“Missed number nine twice.”

“So?”

Bowen looked at him.

“So I’m still on nine.”

Kobe smiled. A few months earlier, he’d been the only person in the building who thought like that.

Now he had company.

It hadn’t happened overnight. Fisher had started arriving early, followed by Bowen and Wallace. Soon, Horry began appearing, and Eddie occasionally wandered in claiming he had nothing better to do. Nobody called it practice, and nobody needed an invitation.

Kobe bounced a basketball toward Fisher.

“All right. Show me.”

Fisher attacked, crossed left, and tried to slip past him.

Kobe cut him off.

“Fake with your shoulders.”

“What?”

“You’re telling me where you’re going before you move.”

They repeated the possession until Fisher finally caught Kobe leaning and finished a layup.

Wallace raised both arms.

“HE BEAT THE CHAIR!”

Fisher turned. “FUCK OFF!”

Kobe tossed him the ball again.

“Once doesn’t count. You gotta do it till you get it done every time.”

By the time Horry and Eddie arrived, the gym had become a collection of shooting competitions, defensive drills, and arguments over imaginary fouls. Kobe found himself laughing more than he’d expected, but he also noticed how quickly the others corrected their mistakes.

They weren’t simply following his routine anymore.

They were developing their own.

During a break, Fisher reached for his water.

“Anybody hear about Kidd?”

Kobe looked over. “What about him?”

“Dallas traded him. Phoenix.”

Kobe stopped spinning the ball.

“Already?”

Fisher frowned. “Already?”

Kobe shrugged.

“Houston’s involved, too. They got Jim Jackson.”

That caught everyone’s attention.

Horry straightened.

“Jackson?”

Fisher nodded.

Kobe considered the implications. Hakeem Olajuwon, Charles Barkley, and Clyde Drexler were already dangerous enough. Adding Jackson gave Houston another scorer capable of punishing defensive mistakes.

The Western Conference was changing faster than he’d anticipated.

His phone rang.

Rob Pelinka.

Kobe stepped into the hallway.

“Tell me you’ve heard,” Rob said.

“About Kidd?”

“That’s only half of it. Dallas called Jerry before the trade.”

Kobe leaned against the wall.

“What’d they want?”

“Eddie. Bowen. Wallace. They were exploring a bigger deal involving Jackson.”

Kobe stared through the glass at his teammates.

“All three?”

“That’s what they were testing.”

Kobe almost laughed.

“Jerry didn’t take that seriously.”

“He didn’t even let them finish.”

Rob chuckled.

“Not interested in Jackson?”

Kobe watched Wallace kick the ball toward Bowen for an open corner three.

“He’s not three players.”

Rob laughed.

“That’s almost exactly what Jerry said.”

Kobe smiled. The Lakers were building something, and other teams were beginning to notice. Jerry West understood the value of keeping a young defensive core around Shaq and Kobe rather than sacrificing it for another established scorer.

But the news about Houston lingered.

He remembered the original history well enough to recognize that things were moving differently now. A trade that should have unfolded one way had taken another path, strengthening a contender Los Angeles might eventually have to beat.

For the first time, the uncertainty excited him more than his memories reassured him.