2010 NBA Finals: The (t5!) Cap Off

To an NBA dork like me, there’s nothing more fascinating than a discussion about legacy, measuring an NBA player’s worth by how he relates to the past. Obviously, the absence of a championship doesn’t reduce a player’s statistics or accomplishments in a literal sense, but simply put, you’re nothing when you haven’t won. Fortunately, almost all of the major players in the 2010 Boston Celtics vs. Los Angeles Lakers NBA Finals already own jewelry, so win or lose, their legacy was already cemented—Pau Gasol already distinguished himself from the long line of submissive European imports, Ray Allen already surpassed Reggie Miller as far as deadly three-point shooters go, Kevin Garnett is already classified as one of the best to ever play his position (second only to Tim Duncan, the way I look at it), and Paul Pierce already belongs in the pantheon of Celtic greats. However, to Kobe Bryant, whose ultimate goal is to be the best, the current amount of rings can never be enough.


Legendary wrestler Ric Flair said it best, “to be the man, you’ve got to beat the man.” As of right now, “the man” is Michael Jordan, and no one is more mindful of that than Black Mamba. After witnessing his output in 2010, Kobe’s eminence is now impossible to ignore, even by me, a cynic of his ever since he drove Shaquille O’Neal out of L.A. The degree of difficulty of some of the shots Kobe has executed during these playoffs (especially during the Phoenix series) has been, for lack of a better word, Jordanesque. So, if the comparisons are now apt, why was Jordan universally loved, and yet there has never been a more polarizing NBA superstar than Kobe?

If you recall, winning and championships were like a drug to Michael Jordan; nothing was more important. And it’s not that winning doesn’t mean anything to Kobe, it’s just not as important as being great. Championships are excellent, as long as he wins it on his own terms. Kobe resembles an eager high school valedictorian: he does the right things and acts the right way because he is conscious of what it does to his individual distinction. As a second-generation NBA player, he has studied how the superstars of the past acquired their greatness. He knows the journey one has to encounter in order to become legendary. Some fans view this quest for greatness as a selfish feat. After all, teammates and cities benefit from championships; legacies belong only to the person who achieved it.

As a Celtics fan, this is what I was counting on heading into Game 7. I knew that Kobe knew that doing work in the seventh game of the NBA Finals could do wonders for your legacy. It was the reason why every single one of his shots in the first half looked forced, resulting in a 3 for 13 shooting presentation in the first half (6 for 24 altogether). He needed to score forty last Thursday, because the storyline says that Game 7 is when the bestest of forever proves their excellence. Only when Phil Jackson took him out in third quarter did the Lakers make a threatening run, corroborating the fact that they are better when they are trusting the Triangle Offence and exploiting mismatches. Boston can’t contend with the Lakers’ length, especially when their lengthiest Kendrick Perkins is out with a knee. Because of this, Lakers center Pau Gasol should have been having a field day offensively, only he couldn’t do so if he doesn’t touch the ball. Remember this, Laker fans: your team almost lost because of Kobe Bryant’s aspirations to be great. Kobe Bean took 163 shots in the series, which is more than any other two Lakers combined. All of this “I wanted it ... and sometimes you want something so bad it slips away from you” comments from Kobe are admirable on the surface, but when you grasp what “it” truly meant for him, you can only shake your head. If Gasol won the Finals MVP (which he should have after registering 19.6 points, 11.1 rebounds, and 47.8% shooting), I guarantee that Kobe’s fifth ring wouldn’t have been as sweet to him.

And can you imagine how Kobe would’ve reacted if NBA commish David Stern awarded Ron Artest the Finals MVP trophy? I would’ve loved to see him explode from bewilderment. There’s no denying that I hate the Lakers with fierceness, but the lone bright spot of them coming out victorious in 2010 is the fact that Ron Artest, the Tru Warier, has a championship ring. He is a rare treasure in the NBA, a defensive gift that possesses the immovability of a power forward and the swiftness of a small forward. Ron’s talents are sadly obscured by strife and misbehavior, which is why most NBA fans only see him as a nitwit. Even his teammates have certified his volatility, but the same teammates also recognize his undeniable dedication and assiduousness. Ron-Ron has had his share of blunders in these playoffs, his three-pointer was so unreliable that the crowd in Los Angeles shrieked in fear whenever he decided to hoist one up. I know what it feels like for the people on your side to not have confidence in your jumpshot, when your teammates and your coaches don’t want you to shoot. Opponents can sense that, so they leave you open on purpose, which is a blatant test on your manhood. Well, in these seven championship games, Ron Artest was a man. Not only did he prevent Boston’s main points source, Paul Pierce, from getting his buckets, he also carried some of the offensive load in Game 7 and he hit the three-pointer that finally sealed it for the Lakers. I can only imagine that the projects of Queensbridge were ecstatic for their native son.

To an NBA dork like me, there’s nothing more special than a Celtics vs. Lakers finals, seven championship games between professional sports’ most lionized rivalry. The series wasn’t the prettiest basketball I’ve ever seen, but to quote the Boston’s Rasheed Wallace: “both teams played hard, my man”, and that's delightful to watch. As I said before, the Celtics were a mess entering the playoffs, so I never expected them to even reach the Finals. The way I look at it as a Celtics fan, whatever the outcome was, I was already playing with house money. Although, my team didn’t prevail in the end, I can only be grateful for a mammoth season. I’m already pumped for next year.