"IN THE EVENT OF A WATER LANDING..."

KOBE

A few nights ago ESPN ran a poll as to which NBA player you'd rather pay to see play in person, LeBron or Kobe. King James won that poll handily, which to me only reinforces the power of marketing. I wonder how many of those that voted for LeBron (I wonder who these people are who vote on ESPN polls in the first place, but that's another matter) watched Wednesday night's Lakers-Spurs game.

Kobe isn't exactly a warm and fuzzy guy, and he has his character flaws, but he's the greatest assassin the NBA has seen since Michael Jordan retired. He's the most competitive player the NBA has had since MJ retired. And he's the greatest non-post player of the post-MJ era. I will brook no argument on this one.

But what I love best about Kobe is just how much he cares. Sure, San Antonio may be the Lakers' greatest obstacle to another Western Conference title this season--as they've been this entire decade--but this was a weeknight in January on the road. And yet, thanks to Kobe (and to Ginobileeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!) this contest had the feel of a Game 5 in the playoffs (not quite a Game 7, but a Game 5).

When Ginobili took an inbounds pass with about 4 seconds remaining in the 3rd quarter, dribbled past halfcourt and buried a 35-footer at the buzzer, my eyes went directly to Kobe. He threw his arms up in disgust, as if he couldn't believe that his teammates' allowed that to happen.  

When, between the 3rd and 4th quarter, sideline reporter Nancy Lieberman-not-Cline asked Spurs coach Gregg Popovich what he needed to instruct his defense to do in order to stop Kobe, Pop replied cheekily but candidly, "I'm sure I have no idea."

Either did I, but like you I knew enough to double-team him when he was dribbling up on the wing with less than two minutes to play. With the Lakers down one and Roger Mason guarding him (apparently, Bruce Bowen is now officially old), Mike Tirico (or was it Van Gundy or Jackson) wondered why the Spurs weren't double-teaming Kobe, forcing some other Laker to burn them. Moments later, Kobe pulled up and buried a 27-footer, then made the "I've got big cojones" gesture (Tirico, who has less respect for his audience's intelligence than any broadcaster I know of, euphemized it as a "Sam Cassell" move).

And, really, was anyone surprised Kobe buried that shot (he'd done the same thing, from the very same spot, one night earlier in Houston)? Kobe is the only player I can think of since Jordan (and before Jordan, Larry Bird) who when taking a long-range jumper in a high-pressure situation, I believe the odds are better that he'll make it than miss.

Finally, I loved the look on Kobe's face when backcourt-mate Derek Fischer messed up by going for the steal on Roger Mason, whiffing, then fouling him from behind. The Lakers, with a 2-point lead, gave up an old-fashioned 3-point play in the final ten seconds. At the sound of the whistle, as the ball tickled the twine, there was Kobe under the basket once again throwing his arms up in disgust.

Like Jordan, Kobe is the most demanding of teammates. But it's nice to see he cares so much. When the Lakers crawled back from an 11-point deficit in the final five minutes to make it a two-point game, the Spurs called timeout. As the Lakers sat on the bench waiting for Phil Jackson's words of wisdom, Kobe rose and gave the four others an impromptu pep talk. He wants to win...badly.

And when little-used reserve Josh Powell hit a pair of 17-footers in the game's final minutes, courtesy of double-teams tossed Kobe's way, it was Kobe who met him first and chest-bumped him to let him know he appreciated that someone else could come through in the clutch.

As a teammate, Kobe is Simon Cowell. He's the mean judge, but he's the one whose approval you seek most.

A couple more things:

-- Kudos to Mark Jackson for disagreeing with Bob Knight's assertion that Stephen Curry is the greatest passer in the history of college basketball. And kudos to Jeff Van Gundy as well, for pointing out that when they did the Duke-Davidson game last week, Curry attempted too many difficult passes that failed. "Part of being a great passer," said Van Gundy, "is decision-making, and right now Stephen Curry is not at an NBA-level in terms of decision-making."

Tirico, when asked his opinion, chuckled and noted that Knight appears on his radio program every week so that he wasn't about to disagree. And that is why, Mike, you may very well be wealthy but you'll never have the respect of this fan. Because you so obviously are trying to win the approval of your bosses, as opposed to your listeners.

-- It's freezing almost everywhere except LA (84 degrees! Really?) and Phoenix, so it's a good idea to stay inside tonight and enjoy two games, either of which is a potential NBA Finals. The first is New Orleans (23-12) at Cleveland (30-7). Both LeBron and Chris Paul had triple-doubles earlier this week, and the Cavs have yet to lose at home this season (How would you keep either of those players off your All-NBA first team this season? Answer: You wouldn't).

The second game of this doubleheader is the one I really want to see, though. The Orlando Magic (31-8) at the Los Angeles Lakers (31-7). The two best teams in the league this season to this point, each with an All-NBA first teamer: the Magic's Dwight Howard, owner of the best shoulders the NBA has seen since Karl Malone retired, and of course, Kobe.

The Magic hit an NBA-record 23 three-pointers the other night at Golden State. Basically, their offense is to place four dead-eye marksmen around the arc while keeping you honest by putting Howard, the most devastating low-post player in the league, around the paint. And it's working.

Since losing at Phoenix in early mid-December, the Magic are 14-2 (losing only at Detroit and at San Antonio). Orlando's average margin of victory in those 14 wins has been 16.1 points. Those of you who, like me, loved watching the Phoenix Suns the past few seasons, well, look toward the Magic Kingdom. It's not a carbon-copy of the "Seven Seconds or Less" era, but it sure is fun to watch.

If Orlando-L.A. winds up being the NBA Finals come June, it'll be a whole lot of fun. Besides, it's been a couple years since people have had a chance to get their J.J. Redick hate on.

I Just Can't Stop

-- Just read that Chesley Sullenberger, the U.S. Airways pilot who nonchalantly eases commercial aircraft onto major waterways, is married to a "fitness expert in California". What's more miraculous: Yesterday's landing or a dude named Chesley Sullenberger being married to a fitness expert? I'm even more impressed with him now.

Think about it. Someone tells you that you're going to be on a flight that will need to make a water landing and allows you to pick, solely by name, one of four pilots to bring down the aircraft. You know nothing more about them than their names. Here they are:

1) Eric Mannion

2) Troy Tucker

3) Gil Armstrong

4) Chesley Sullenberger

I mean, pilots are supposed to be like your local "Live at 5" anchorman. Solid, WASPy named gents. And then you get a Chesley Sullenberger? Well, I'll be ...

-- Piggybacking on Simmons' genius here, but The Sports Guy notes that the Arizona Cardinals have a chance to beat four ornitholigical-named teams on the way to a highly unlikely Super Bowl win: Seahawks (to clinch), Falcons, interrupted by the Panthers, then Eagles and perhaps Ravens. Sports Guy then notes that U.S. Airways is based in the Cards' home town. The only thing missing: the home city, Phoenix, takes its name from a mythical bird that rises from the ashes.

-- And he's totally dead-on about the fact that Kenny Albert blinks about as often as a reptile. I'd like to add that he always looks as if he just had his wisdom teeth pulled.

-- Finally, if you were watching HBO at 11 p.m. last night, you saw the most graphically sexual show they've ever aired. I mean, it makes Cathouse look like Dora the Explorer. Judd Apatow may even have been offended (except that he cast her in a film, so maybe not). I won't say more except to note that this chick was the host of the program. You'll never believe: she grew up in the San Fernando Valley.