Ever since Kobe Bryant’s “Trade Me, Don’t Trade Me” radio tirade this past summer, media outlets from here to Beijing have posed every imaginable question about No. 24 and his team for the present, the Los Angeles Lakers.
Is Kobe to blame for shaking the organization to its Staples Center core, or is Lakers owner Dr. Jerry Buss and team management responsible for failing to make any blockbuster off-season moves to placate the Black Mamba?
Was Kobe the reason Shaquille O’Neal left Los Angeles?
Has Kobe played his last game in a Lakers’ uniform? (If you believe ESPN’s Ric Bucher, he has. Several times now.)
The focal point of all discussion has been No. 24, yet strangely enough, almost no attention has been paid to the assumption underlying his original complaint — namely, that Los Angeles has failed to surround him with the talent he needs to compete for a championship.
To a degree, Kobe is right. This team has not competed for an NBA title, or gotten past the first round of the playoffs, though two seasons ago, the Lakers came within a basket of doing precisely that.
But what about No. 24’s teammates — the Others, if you will. Do they have any talent at all? Enough to be competitive? To compete for a championship?
Start asking these questions, and the answers are surprising — both because they reveal talent on the Lakers, and because they lay the blame for Los Angeles’ current woes not on Kobe or Lakers’ ownership/management, but on the players themselves.
THE PARALYSIS OF AWE
Ever since Shaq’s departure, the Lakers have essentially passed through two periods.
The first, After Shaq, was short-lived. Kobe discovered quickly that he wasn’t Michael Jordan — at least, not yet — and that winning meant more than scoring 30+ points a night. Or to put it another way, he was Early Jordan (63 points v. Boston in the playoffs for a loss, etc.).
In the second, Understanding the Team Concept, Kobe began to grasp that he was going to need some assistance if he ever wanted to reach the post-season again. Being reunited with Phil Jackson helped Kobe move through this period rather rapidly. People say that No. 24 is selfish and so forth, and I’m the first to harp on the quality of his shot-selection/ball distribution, but he wants to win more than anything. You need teammates to win. He gets it.
The problem is that the majority of Kobe’s teammates — at least, the ones who have been here the last few years — have been awestruck by him, so much so that they’ve looked lost on the floor a lot of the time.
As a result, people have reached two conclusions. The first is that the Others simply aren’t very good. The second is that Kobe has done little to make his teammates better. Once every other week (if not more often), you can find a story out of a major media outlet questioning his ability to interact with other players, as if he were a two year-old.
THE MYTH OF MJ
What is commonly meant by “making one’s teammates better?”
Typically, this refers to a few things. Some are strategy-related — drawing opposing defenses to open up opportunities for your teammates, setting them up to score via great passes, etc. A good deal of making your teammates better, however, seems to revolve around intangibles. Somehow, the true leader improves the performances of his teammates through positive encouragement, inspiring them through his own effort. And of course, Michael Jordan is the standard by which all other aspiring leaders are measured, since he — as a friend of mine puts it — managed to win a few titles with Scottie Pippen and some guys from the gym.
Except, as the following review of David Halberstam’s book about MJ, “Playing for Keeps,” points out, that that’s really just the popular myth.
Jackson occasionally stood up to Jordan; early on, he demanded that Jordan share the ball more often. It took him a long time to develop such trust in his teammates. Jackson was so effective in running this delicate ship, Halberstam doubts any other coach could have led the Bulls to those six titles. “Maybe four, no more,” he said.
Halberstam also watched the way Jordan interacted with his teammates, no idle matter. Once, during Chicago’s first championship run, two exasperated teammates counted the number of times Jordan used “I” during a pregame chat with several writers.
The Jackson that’s being referred to, of course, is none other than Phil Jackson, the current Lakers coach. The article goes on to provide some more intriguing details that show an uncanny parallel to the current situation in L.A.
Jordan occasionally showed his wicked side. He ruthlessly hassled Bulls general manager Jerry Krause, who longed for public credit and was eager to dump Jackson and start anew.
MJ, as reality would have it, was a ruthless taskmaster early in his career, barely tolerated by his teammates, who got along with him at least partly (if not more so) due to the management skills of Jackson.
What I’m driving at here is this: If Michael Jordan didn’t make his teammates better by patting them on the back — at least during the first championship run — how did he do it?
HE DIDN’T DO IT, THEY DID
There’ s an old cliche in psychology that goes something like this: You can’t make anyone do anything they don’t want to do.
I would argue that Michael Jordan didn’t do a thing to make his teammates play better.
Yes, he played the most incredible basketball we’re all likely to ever see.
Yes, he put forth more effort to improve his game and excel than anyone else in his era, and arguably, ever.
Michael Jordan’s teammates saw how he played every day of his career, and they responded.
Will Perdue and Luc Longley worked hard enough for people to remember who they were.
Steve Kerr worked on his shot, and went from being a good college player to one of the greatest three-point shooters in NBA history.
Scottie Pippen pushed his skills so far, people argue that Jordan wouldn’t have been Jordan without him.
Yes, MJ might have inspired his teammates, but ultimately, they tried harder. They improved their skills. They made themselves better.
THE OTHERS
One crucial difference between Jordan’s teammates and Bryant’s is that MJ won his first title with the “role players.”
When the current crop of Lakers arrived, Kobe already had three NBA championships under his belt. He was already KOBE BRYANT, the superstar who Los Angeles chose to keep over Shaquille O’Neal, arguably the most dominating center of all time. The context was different. And that, to an extent, accounts for the inability of Kobe and the rest of the Lakers to coalesce the way that they would have normally.
Only No. 24 has remained on a pedestal, and for the most part, his teammates have been content persisting as more serving staff at the royal table than peers. Lucky to be playing with him, there to serve him, with no real standing of their own.
And that is their fault.
After all, if the “supporting cast” can’t see itself as anything more than the supporting cast, how is Kobe Bryant to blame for that? How is management or Jerry Buss to blame, for that matter?
Looking back, it’s amazing to me how remarkable Lamar Odom’s performance was during last year’s playoffs — not because he played so well, which he did, but because it was such earth-shattering news. Some of the attention, at least partly, was due to his injuries and his effort; he played through a torn labrum and a wobbly knee.
But people seemed to be almost more astounded that someone else on the Lakers besides Kobe Bryant was battling to win. And that is inexcusable.
Fans may not like a team that loses, but if players are fighting through injuries, diving for loose balls, and raging against the expectation of defeat, they can at least be respected. Fading into oblivion, as many of Los Angeles’ role players have done over the past few seasons — you just would expect to see some modicum of pride.
I don’t agree with how Kobe has handled his situation, but I certainly empathize with him. He’s done everything he can to make his teammates better. Now it’s their turn.
Andrew Bynum, Jordan Farmar and Ronny Turiaf need to stop being in awe of Kobe (I’m fairly certain Bynum has a more human view of Kobe now), and start playing like they belong. So far, there are signs that this is the case; Farmar seems confident in his abilities, as opposed to last year, when he seemed more confident in his confidence than anything else.
Luke Walton needs to stay healthy and do everything that his surprisingly wide array of talents allow him to do. Odom needs to stay healthy and pick up right where he left off last season: dominating the opposition at both ends of the floor.
Derek Fisher just got here, but Los Angeles needs him to embrace the role only he can fill as confidant and counselor to KB. (Not to mention veteran point guard.)
Vladimir Radmanovic needs to stay at sea level and keep hitting threes.
Kwame Brown needs to remember that on one memorable night last season, Staples Center actually reverberated with fans chanting his name. And he needs to make that happen more than once a year.
More than anything, Kobe’s teammates need to show some pride, and match his effort and drive with their own.
Contrary to the popular take, I do think the Others on this team have talent. Will it be realized? Can they make themselves better?
The future of the Lakers franchise — and of No. 24 — is riding on the answer.
Was Kobe the reason Shaquille O’Neal left Los Angeles?
Has Kobe played his last game in a Lakers’ uniform? (If you believe ESPN’s Ric Bucher, he has. Several times now.)
The focal point of all discussion has been No. 24, yet strangely enough, almost no attention has been paid to the assumption underlying his original complaint — namely, that Los Angeles has failed to surround him with the talent he needs to compete for a championship.
To a degree, Kobe is right. This team has not competed for an NBA title, or gotten past the first round of the playoffs, though two seasons ago, the Lakers came within a basket of doing precisely that.
But what about No. 24’s teammates — the Others, if you will. Do they have any talent at all? Enough to be competitive? To compete for a championship?
Start asking these questions, and the answers are surprising — both because they reveal talent on the Lakers, and because they lay the blame for Los Angeles’ current woes not on Kobe or Lakers’ ownership/management, but on the players themselves.
THE PARALYSIS OF AWE
Ever since Shaq’s departure, the Lakers have essentially passed through two periods.
The first, After Shaq, was short-lived. Kobe discovered quickly that he wasn’t Michael Jordan — at least, not yet — and that winning meant more than scoring 30+ points a night. Or to put it another way, he was Early Jordan (63 points v. Boston in the playoffs for a loss, etc.).
In the second, Understanding the Team Concept, Kobe began to grasp that he was going to need some assistance if he ever wanted to reach the post-season again. Being reunited with Phil Jackson helped Kobe move through this period rather rapidly. People say that No. 24 is selfish and so forth, and I’m the first to harp on the quality of his shot-selection/ball distribution, but he wants to win more than anything. You need teammates to win. He gets it.
The problem is that the majority of Kobe’s teammates — at least, the ones who have been here the last few years — have been awestruck by him, so much so that they’ve looked lost on the floor a lot of the time.
As a result, people have reached two conclusions. The first is that the Others simply aren’t very good. The second is that Kobe has done little to make his teammates better. Once every other week (if not more often), you can find a story out of a major media outlet questioning his ability to interact with other players, as if he were a two year-old.
THE MYTH OF MJ
What is commonly meant by “making one’s teammates better?”
Typically, this refers to a few things. Some are strategy-related — drawing opposing defenses to open up opportunities for your teammates, setting them up to score via great passes, etc. A good deal of making your teammates better, however, seems to revolve around intangibles. Somehow, the true leader improves the performances of his teammates through positive encouragement, inspiring them through his own effort. And of course, Michael Jordan is the standard by which all other aspiring leaders are measured, since he — as a friend of mine puts it — managed to win a few titles with Scottie Pippen and some guys from the gym.
Except, as the following review of David Halberstam’s book about MJ, “Playing for Keeps,” points out, that that’s really just the popular myth.
Jackson occasionally stood up to Jordan; early on, he demanded that Jordan share the ball more often. It took him a long time to develop such trust in his teammates. Jackson was so effective in running this delicate ship, Halberstam doubts any other coach could have led the Bulls to those six titles. “Maybe four, no more,” he said.
Halberstam also watched the way Jordan interacted with his teammates, no idle matter. Once, during Chicago’s first championship run, two exasperated teammates counted the number of times Jordan used “I” during a pregame chat with several writers.
The Jackson that’s being referred to, of course, is none other than Phil Jackson, the current Lakers coach. The article goes on to provide some more intriguing details that show an uncanny parallel to the current situation in L.A.
Jordan occasionally showed his wicked side. He ruthlessly hassled Bulls general manager Jerry Krause, who longed for public credit and was eager to dump Jackson and start anew.
MJ, as reality would have it, was a ruthless taskmaster early in his career, barely tolerated by his teammates, who got along with him at least partly (if not more so) due to the management skills of Jackson.
What I’m driving at here is this: If Michael Jordan didn’t make his teammates better by patting them on the back — at least during the first championship run — how did he do it?
HE DIDN’T DO IT, THEY DID
There’ s an old cliche in psychology that goes something like this: You can’t make anyone do anything they don’t want to do.
I would argue that Michael Jordan didn’t do a thing to make his teammates play better.
Yes, he played the most incredible basketball we’re all likely to ever see.
Yes, he put forth more effort to improve his game and excel than anyone else in his era, and arguably, ever.
Michael Jordan’s teammates saw how he played every day of his career, and they responded.
Will Perdue and Luc Longley worked hard enough for people to remember who they were.
Steve Kerr worked on his shot, and went from being a good college player to one of the greatest three-point shooters in NBA history.
Scottie Pippen pushed his skills so far, people argue that Jordan wouldn’t have been Jordan without him.
Yes, MJ might have inspired his teammates, but ultimately, they tried harder. They improved their skills. They made themselves better.
THE OTHERS
One crucial difference between Jordan’s teammates and Bryant’s is that MJ won his first title with the “role players.”
When the current crop of Lakers arrived, Kobe already had three NBA championships under his belt. He was already KOBE BRYANT, the superstar who Los Angeles chose to keep over Shaquille O’Neal, arguably the most dominating center of all time. The context was different. And that, to an extent, accounts for the inability of Kobe and the rest of the Lakers to coalesce the way that they would have normally.
Only No. 24 has remained on a pedestal, and for the most part, his teammates have been content persisting as more serving staff at the royal table than peers. Lucky to be playing with him, there to serve him, with no real standing of their own.
And that is their fault.
After all, if the “supporting cast” can’t see itself as anything more than the supporting cast, how is Kobe Bryant to blame for that? How is management or Jerry Buss to blame, for that matter?
Looking back, it’s amazing to me how remarkable Lamar Odom’s performance was during last year’s playoffs — not because he played so well, which he did, but because it was such earth-shattering news. Some of the attention, at least partly, was due to his injuries and his effort; he played through a torn labrum and a wobbly knee.
But people seemed to be almost more astounded that someone else on the Lakers besides Kobe Bryant was battling to win. And that is inexcusable.
Fans may not like a team that loses, but if players are fighting through injuries, diving for loose balls, and raging against the expectation of defeat, they can at least be respected. Fading into oblivion, as many of Los Angeles’ role players have done over the past few seasons — you just would expect to see some modicum of pride.
I don’t agree with how Kobe has handled his situation, but I certainly empathize with him. He’s done everything he can to make his teammates better. Now it’s their turn.
Andrew Bynum, Jordan Farmar and Ronny Turiaf need to stop being in awe of Kobe (I’m fairly certain Bynum has a more human view of Kobe now), and start playing like they belong. So far, there are signs that this is the case; Farmar seems confident in his abilities, as opposed to last year, when he seemed more confident in his confidence than anything else.
Luke Walton needs to stay healthy and do everything that his surprisingly wide array of talents allow him to do. Odom needs to stay healthy and pick up right where he left off last season: dominating the opposition at both ends of the floor.
Derek Fisher just got here, but Los Angeles needs him to embrace the role only he can fill as confidant and counselor to KB. (Not to mention veteran point guard.)
Vladimir Radmanovic needs to stay at sea level and keep hitting threes.
Kwame Brown needs to remember that on one memorable night last season, Staples Center actually reverberated with fans chanting his name. And he needs to make that happen more than once a year.
More than anything, Kobe’s teammates need to show some pride, and match his effort and drive with their own.
Contrary to the popular take, I do think the Others on this team have talent. Will it be realized? Can they make themselves better?
The future of the Lakers franchise — and of No. 24 — is riding on the answer.
by David Neiman
SportsHubLA
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