RealClearSports: Old Lakers Play Like the Old Lakers

By Art Spander
For RealClearSports.com


O, ye of little faith. Now what do you think of the Lakers? Too old? Too tired? How about too good?

There is nothing the sporting world does faster than jumping on bandwagons, unless it's jumping to conclusions. Lose a game, lose two games, and instead of talking about shots falling there's weeping and wailing about the sky falling.

Read the full story here.

© RealClearSports 2010

SF Examiner: Mieuli’s impact on Bay Area sports won't be forgotten

By Art Spander
Special to The Examiner


He put chandeliers in the Cow Palace and Rick Barry’s jersey behind an office door, delivered bags of fruit to sports writers and delivered a championship to the Bay Area.

You could call Franklin Mieuli eccentric. I preferred to call him passionate. He had a beard, a deerstalker hat and a love of life.

Read the full story here.

Copyright 2010 SF Newspaper Company

RealClearSports: Butler Does Its Ugly Best

By Art Spander
For RealClearSports.com


INDIANAPOLIS -- The sense is something mystical is happening, something beyond all the rebounds, turnovers and missed shots -- and oh, were there missed shots.

The thought is everything is going so perfectly for Butler, the sporting gods have taken control of the college basketball season.

Read the full story here.

© RealClearSports 2010

RealClearSports: Mountains, Mines, Myths and Bob Huggins

By Art Spander
For RealClearSports.com


INDIANAPOLIS -- West Virginia is composed of equal portions mountains, mines and myths. It is a region of Appalachian accents and backwoods towns that are the punch line of too many jokes.

And the part of its history not concerned with men in raccoon hats shooting rifles mostly deals with men in jerseys shooting basketballs.

Read the full story here.

© RealClearSports 2010

RealClearSports: Lavin Gets St. John's Back in the Headlines

By Art Spander
For RealClearSports.com


In the chaos of New York sports it is no less important to be on the back of the tabloids than at the front of the pack. Steve Lavin thus put his new employer in an enviable position even before he was officially hired.

'LOVIN' LAVIN' was the headline in Tuesday's New York Post, above a huge photo of the man, a correct implication he would be the new basketball coach at St. John's, which he became a few hours later

Read the full story here.

© RealClearSports 2010

RealClearSports: Little St. Mary's Finds a Sweet Spot

By Art Spander
For RealClearSports.com


MORAGA, Calif. -- To get to Saint Mary's College, you need a GPS and a lot of luck. It's due east of Oakland down a winding road through a canyon of redwood trees that are maybe a bit taller than Omar Samhan.

He's the 6-foot-11 center on a basketball team from a program with a great deal of history but beyond California receives almost no recognition. As for Moraga, it's a bedroom community named after Joaquin Moraga, the rancher deeded the area in 1835 by the government of Mexico.

Read the full story here.

© RealClearSports 2010

RealClearSports: Washington and the West Gain Respect

By Art Spander
For RealClearSports.com


SAN JOSE, Calif. -- We're all witnesses. Lorenzo Romar said that. After his Washington team upset New Mexico. After he heard Northern Iowa upset Kansas.

After he reminded us in this lunacy of a college basketball tournament "anyone can beat anyone.''

Read the full story here.

© RealClearSports 2010

SF Examiner: Bay Area schools step into the spotlight

By Art Spander
Special to The Examiner


SAN FRANCISCO — Mike Montgomery’s supposition was impossible to argue: “No matter how good you think you are,” the Cal coach said, “you’re playing other people who have won games.”

Then again, those other people are playing you, because you’ve also won games.

Read the full story here.

Copyright 2010 SF Newspaper Company

SF Examiner: Monty has helped make Cal relevant again

By Art Spander
Special to The Examiner


BERKELEY — The Warriors years have been erased. Imagine they never happened. Think of Mike Montgomery going from a successful career at Stanford to a successful career at Cal. That’s what has happened in the Golden Bears’ media guide.

Read the full story here.

Copyright 2010 SF Newspaper Company

SF Examiner: Warriors on the brink of irrelevance

By Art Spander
Special to The Examiner


SAN FRANCISCO — So what’s worse news, that the Sharks aren’t playing because of the Olympic break, or that the Warriors are?

Maybe Larry Ellison can sail his zillion-dollar boat right up to Chris Cohan’s doorstep, metaphorically if not literally, and get this sale under way. If there is to be a sale.

Read the full story here.

Copyright 2010 SF Newspaper Company

RealClearSports: Thanks, David Stern for Doing the Right Thing

By Art Spander
For RealClearSports.com


Thanks, David Stern. Thanks for doing what any sane-thinking person would have done, suspending the two Washington Wizards players who were so stupid, so arrogant to bring guns to practice.

Thanks for attempting to restore to society some sense of what is right and wrong.

Read the full story here.

© RealClearSports 2010

SF Examiner: New year doesn't bring much hope for Bay Area sports

By Art Spander
Special to The Examiner


SAN FRANCISCO — This is a happy new year? The 49ers reveling because they didn’t lose more games than they won. The Raiders groping because they did lose more games than they won. The Warriors making us wish it were baseball season. The Giants and A’s making us wonder why we should wish it were baseball season.

Read the full story here.

Copyright 2010 SF Newspaper Company

RealClearSports: A Different Christmas for Stephen Curry

By Art Spander
For RealClearSports.com


OAKLAND -- This is a different Christmas for Stephen Curry. His first as a pro. His first away from home. His first playing basketball for a losing team.

Life is a learning process. Curry was ahead of the curve. His father, Dell, played in the NBA. Stephen knew more than others. But there was much he didn't know.

Read the full story here.

© RealClearSports 2009

SF Examiner: After 50 years in basketball, Attles remains a true Warrior

By Art Spander
Special to The Examiner


OAKLAND — He didn’t think his pro basketball career would last a day. It’s lasted 50 years. With one team, the Warriors.

There’s a song in “Follies,” the Sondheim musical of aging chorus girls recalling the 1920s and 1930s, titled “I’m Still Here.” Good times and bum times, the lady has been through them all. So, in his own way, has Al Attles. And always with the Warriors, whether Philadelphia, where he and they started, San Francisco or Oakland.

Read the full story here.

Copyright 2009 SF Newspaper Company

RealClearSports: Wooden Wins a Big One, No. 99

By Art Spander
For RealClearSports.com


He couldn't win the big one. That was the criticism of John Wooden. Fifty years ago.

Times change. Perceptions change. Integrity never changes.

Couldn't win the big one.

Wooden was in his formative years at UCLA, a team competent enough in the old Pacific Coast Conference and its successor, the AAWU. But in the tournament, there was USF with Bill Russell, or Santa Clara with Ken Sears, and the Bruins were eliminated.

Then they began to eliminate everybody else. Starting in 1964, UCLA won all the big ones, won 88 games in a row, won seven NCAA championships in a row, and John Wooden earned a reputation he's never lost as the finest college basketball coach in history.

The great man, the "Wizard of Westwood'' -- a phrase Wooden still dislikes; it came from the title of a book by Dwight Chapin and the late Jeff Prugh -- turns 99 today, October 14. Ninety-nine, one short of a century.

Sadly, he is looking his age, frail, fighting through one ailment after another, the sort of problems not uncommon to those who make it to their ninth decade.

Delightfully, he never acts his age. He hates being pushed in a wheelchair. Doesn't want to be fussed over.

"I'm embarrassed not being able to get around,'' he said a while back. "I don't like it.''

Who does? In our minds, it's always yesterday, always a time of youth, when we never imagined what the future would be, never dreamed those old guys would be us.

The India Rubber Man someone called Wooden. He was the All-America from Purdue in the early 1930s. He would hit the floor and bounce up. Then he would hit a basket.

He became an English teacher and a coach. No, he became The Coach. After serving as a naval lieutenant in World War II.

UCLA hired him from Indiana State in 1948. He headed west and almost headed back to Indiana. Life in southern California, call it the "Hollywood Effect,'' was unsettling. Wooden considered leaving not long after he arrived.

But he still was there when I entered in 1956, a freshman on the school paper, the Daily Bruin, sent to interview Wooden in less than elegant campus surroundings, a spartan office in a wooden bungalow maybe 150 yards from an antiquated gym so small (2,500 seats) and so closed-in it was, in a word-play on the Tennessee Williams drama, nicknamed "The Sweatbox Named Perspire.''

Wooden was polite if impatient. Businesslike. Efficient. The Pyramid of Success, now marketed, was attached to the wall. He had his ideas. When he would get his players, Walt Hazzard (Mahdi Abdul-Rahman) and Gail Goodrich, Lew Alcindor (Kareem Abdul-Jabbar) and Bill Walton, the ideas were brilliant.

Twenty-seven years, 10 NCAA titles, 620 wins, 147 defeats. UCLA finally got its building, Pauley Pavilion, in 1965, and Wooden finally got an office worthy of his status. But deep down, he was still the no-nonsense guy from Middle America.

For many years, Wooden has lived in an unpretentious San Fernando Valley condominium that is more museum than residence. Memories, homilies and most of all awards are on virtually every inch of the walls, atop every desk, table or trophy cabinet.

There is a letter from Richard Nixon, a bobblehead doll of Tommy Lasorda, a Yankees cap from Derek Jeter, a photo montage of John Stockton, of whom Wooden wistfully noted, "Was the last player in the NBA to wear shorts, not bloomers.''

He has books about Mother Teresa, a Medal of Freedom award from George W. Bush, a football autographed by Don Shula and, of course, photos of the UCLA teams he coached to titles before retiring in 1975.

"Nell arranged those pictures in the Pyramid of Success,'' explained Wooden, alluding to his wife, who died in 1985. "I didn't like that, but I wasn't going to change anything she did.''

Nell Riley was the only girl John Wooden of Martinsville, Indiana ever dated. There's a framed photo, leaning against a wall, of the two of them, John 16, Nell 16. The love of his life, to whom he still writes a letter the 21st of every month.

Her name is alongside his on the basketball floor at Pauley. It was the only way he would allow the court to be dedicated, to both of them.

Wooden is a baseball fan. He would come to UCLA games when they still played at a utilitarian facility on the land where Pauley was erected and harass the opponents, a classic "bench jockey,'' insulting but never obscene. Wooden can talk about Babe Ruth. Or about Barry Bonds.

John Wooden knew. John Wooden knows. In 99 years, he hasn't missed much. Including winning the big one.

As a reporter since 1960, Art Spander is a living treasure of sports history. A recipient of the Dick McCann Memorial Award -- given for his long and distinguished career covering professional football -- he has earned himself a spot in the Pro Football Hall of Fame. He was recently honored with the Lifetime Achievement Award by the PGA of America for 2009.

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http://www1.realclearsports.com/articles/2009/10/14/wooden_wins_a_big_one_no_99_96503.html
© RealClearSports 2009

SF Examiner: Another Oakland athlete turns sour

By Art Spander
Special to The Examiner


OAKLAND — “Hello, vultures.” It was Stephen Jackson, the “get-me-out-of-here” guy getting in here with a welcome to the fifth estate, which is not to be confused with the four corners.

A few weeks back, Jackson said he wanted the Warriors to trade him and, subsequently, was fined $25,000 by the league for “statements detrimental to the NBA.”

But here it was media day — pro basketball is back — and here was Jackson, drawing a crowd seemingly larger than the one Sunday at the Coliseum for the Raiders.

Richard Seymour of the Raiders draws a personal foul for tugging at an opponent’s braids, and when asked about the incident by a columnist, grows belligerent. Seymour pulled a player’s hair, but didn’t like it when someone else pulled his own chain.

Then a day later, Jackson walks into the party, to borrow a line from Carly Simon, like he was walking onto a yacht, smug, smiling and when persuaded, truthful.

He knew full well he was the Warriors’ story and after some feigned indifference — “I already answered, so don’t ask me” — spent a good half hour telling the story, long enough to break your heart or your bankbook.

What happens to these athletes in Oakland? Are they stricken with Transpontine Madness? Is it being based adjacent to Berkeley?

Is it the new parking rates, a ripoff as big as Jackson’s fine?

Why did Matt Holliday bat zilch when he was with the A’s and turn into another Stan Musial with the St. Louis Cardinals? How come Seymour gets into a Raiders uniform and then gets into an argument? And why did Jackson receive a little $27 million bump in his salary and then attempt to flee?

Jackson’s explanation is that outside of him, the Warriors aren’t very good, but he said it in more gentle prose.

“We’re not getting any better,” was his analysis, followed immediately by, “No disrespect to all the guys on the team, and I’m not saying the job couldn’t get done with them.”

Thanks, Stephen. Such reassurance. No wonder you were chosen captain.

Jackson thought he could get it done with Baron Davis, pal Al Harrington and Jason Richardson, each of whom has been traded in the Warriors’ never-ending quest for instability.

They all were on the team when the Warriors in 2006-07 made the playoffs for the first time in 13 years and the only time in 15 years. Now it’s Jackson his own self, and uncomfortably at that.

“I know I had a big part in getting this organization back to the winning attitude, if not the biggest part, and every year I lost somebody that I felt helped me with that,” Jackson said.

Jackson said he stands by his attempt to get out of town.

“Even though I made the statements I made,” he advised, “I’m going to come here and play like I didn’t make them. I’m not going to lie down for nobody, even though we’ve been taking steps backward every year.”

Almost makes you want to tear your hair out. Oh, sorry, Mr. Seymour.

Art Spander has been covering Bay Area sports since 1965 and also writes on www.artspander.com and www.realclearsports.com. E-mail him at typoes@aol.com.

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http://www.sfexaminer.com/sports/Spander-Another-Oakland-athlete-turns-sour-62797762.html
Copyright 2009 SF Newspaper Company 

RealClearSports: Call Them the New Jersey Nyets

By Art Spander
For RealClearSports.com

Does this mean the Cold War is over? You only wish Mikhail Gorbachev still were around. He was the Soviet president who, in a misinterpreted warning to the West -- the U.S. and allies, not the division always won by the Lakers -- said, "We will bury you.''


Instead, the Russians are buying us out.


The guy considered the richest man in Russia, a label that once might have been a comedian's punch line, Mikhail D. Prokhorov is going to become the principal owner of the New Jersey Nyets, um, Nets.


Times indeed have changed. The Twitter Generation may not be aware, but the Russians, actually the U.S.S.R., of which Russia was the major part, used to be the bad guys. Now they're the wealthy guys.


A strange week over here in the United States. Jerry Jones opens this billion-dollar stadium, for which he is proverbially slapped for indulgence, and then a few days later people are enthusiastic because Prokhorov is going spend millions to take control of an NBA team.


Prokhorov's offer is being called a "rescue package'' for current Nets owner Bruce Ratner, who bought the Nets six years ago with the idea of hauling them to Brooklyn, where apropos of nothing a great many Russian émigrés have settled over the decades.


Six years ago, another Russian billionaire, Roman Abramovich, purchased the English Premier League soccer team Chelsea, which was immediately nicknamed "Chelski'' by a lot of skeptical journalists. When it comes to games with round balls and nets, money seemingly is no object to the Russians.


Nor is it a problem for Jerry Jones, a man who, despite coming across as pretentious and arrogant, still should be allowed to do what he wants with his.


Nobody stood around and took shots at Louis XIV when he was having Versailles expanded to 700 rooms. Of course, if they had, it would have been the guillotine. Why can't we be magnanimous toward Jones and his Cowboys palace?


The reaction to Prokhorov investing $200 million generally has been favorable, although there is that skeleton in the closet ... a 6-foot-9 one: Prokhorov was once a basketball forward. In January 2007 Prokhorov was arrested while on vacation at a French ski resort for supplying prostitutes to friends. He was released after several days, charges were dropped and Prokhorov said he will not do business again in France until there's an apology.


Prokhorov started out selling jeans in Moscow in the 1980s and, lo and behold, suddenly had a large stake in Norilsk Nickel, the largest producer of nickel and palladium on the globe.


In April, according to the New York Times, he was pressured by the Russian government into selling his stake just before the world financial crisis hit the Russian stock market.


He thus had something like $14.9 billion, and even after hosting his usual number of fancy parties still had a large reserve of cash and securities.


Already owner of a share of the Russian hoops team CSKA Moscow, Prokhorov said one reason for his investing in the Nets is to provide Russian basketball a financial revitalization by allowing coaches and players to attend NBA training programs.


The league already has played official games in China and Europe. Commissioner David Stern has suggested, if not predicted, the NBA will create a new conference or division of teams from cities such as Madrid and Paris. For a Russian to control a team is only another step in the process.


Consider some of the owners in big-time sports, Dan Snyder of the Redskins, Mark Cuban of the Mavericks, even Al Davis of the Raiders, individuals making waves, making enemies, making money.


To borrow from Doris Kearns Goodwin, they are a team of rivals.


What's one Russian billionaire more or less added to the blend?


It's simply that not very long ago, until the late 1980s, when Russians and Americans were involved the relationship was "them'' and "us.'' We boycotted the 1980 Moscow Olympics. They boycotted the 1984 Los Angeles Olympics.


To think a quarter-century later a Russian would be involved with a franchise playing the one game invented in the United States would have been inconceivable.


Japanese have invested in the Seattle Mariners. Conversely, Americans run Manchester United and Liverpool, two of most famous soccer teams on the globe. The Brits thought owners from the U.S. would muck up their sport. It hasn't happened.


On Prokhorov's intent, Cuban of the Mavericks, a maverick in his own right, if a very intelligent once, said, "I love the idea. It will bring a whole new perspective, and with the dollar struggling, an entrée to new financial markets.''


Money talks, no matter the language.





As a reporter since 1960, Art Spander is a living treasure of sports history. A recipient of the Dick McCann Memorial Award -- given for his long and distinguished career covering professional football -- he has earned himself a spot in the Pro Football Hall of Fame. He was recently honored with the Lifetime Achievement Award by the PGA of America for 2009.

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http://www1.realclearsports.com/articles/2009/09/24/call_them_the_new_jersey_nyets_96490.html
© RealClearSports 2009

Newsday: Jimenez passes Watson for British Open lead

By Art Spander
Special to Newsday

TURNBERRY, Scotland -- He had stepped from the past, which in this land of legends and lore, kings and kilts, shouldn't have been a surprise.


Tom Watson seems as much a part of Scotland, of the British Open, as the heather in the rough and the bunkers in the fairways.


He is 59 and yesterday, when the 138th Open started at Turnberry -- where Watson won an Open 32 years ago -- he shot a 5-under-par 65 to come in a shot behind Spain's Miguel Angel Jimenez. Watson shares second place with American Ben Curtis, the 2003 Open winner, and Japanese Tour regular Kenichi Kuboya.


"I think there was some spirituality out there today," Watson said. "Just the serenity of it was pretty neat."






Spirituality and fantasy merge here to create reality. It is here along the Firth of Clyde where Robert the Bruce, an eventual king of Scotland was born in the 13th Century. It is here where weathered castles and abbeys dot the countryside, telling of another age.

Over the hill in Ayr runs the River Doon and across it the Bridge of Doon, or as it's called here, the Brig o'Doon. "Brigadoon" became a Broadway musical set in a mythical Scottish town where the residents never age.

Like Tom Watson.

"Not bad for an almost 60-year-old," Watson, who reaches that number in two months, mused of his round. Not bad for anyone no matter how old. Or young.

And how's this for fantasy morphing into reality. Watson, once the dominant player of his day, mashed the dominant player of this day, Tiger Woods. Woods shot a 1-over 71. At 33, he gave Watson 26 years and six shots. Woods is seven shots out of the lead after a sloppy round.

Watson simply gave everyone a reminder greatness can still have its day. He has won the Open five times. He has won the Senior British Open three times, one of those at Turnberry.

The Open is golf on the links land, that sandy soil from which the sea receded thousands of years past, golf where balls bounce and sometimes the wind howls and the rain falls. It's the weather which gives a links course its character and difficulty, but yesterday the sun was shining and the air was still.

"She was defenseless," said Watson. Reminiscent of those beautiful days the last two rounds of the '77 Open at Turnberry when, in the so-called "Duel in the Sun," Watson shot 65-65 to edge Jack Nicklaus, who had 65-66.

Nicklaus stopped playing the British after St. Andrews in 2005, but in a sense he was at Turnberry yesterday. Jack's wife, Barbara, texted Tom on Wednesday evening wishing him luck.

"I texted her back," Watson explained, "and said, 'You know we really miss you over here.' And I really meant it. It's not the same without Jack playing in this tournament."

Open champions have exemptions now, after a new regulation, only until they are 60. Nicklaus is 69.

Watson, looking at a leader board which included former winners Mark O'Meara, age 52, and Mark Calcavecchia, 49, said knowledge of links golf, which is more on the ground than in the air, is a large part of the equation.

"We have an advantage," Watson insisted. "The older guys have an advantage. We've played under these conditions, and we kind of get a feel for it. And that feel is worth its weight in gold when you're playing."

A year ago, at Royal Birkdale, Greg Norman, then 53, made a run at the title until the final holes. (He shot 77 yesterday).

Watson wouldn't guess what lies ahead.

"Sixty-five is the way to start," he said. "Will I be able to handle the pressure? I don't know. Whether I'm in the hunt, who knows? The pressure may be too much too handle. But I've been there before."

Many, many times.

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http://www.newsday.com/sports/golf/ny-spbrit0716,0,6778856.story
Copyright © 2009, Newsday Inc.

RealClearSports: There's No Magic for Orlando

By Art Spander

So life returns to normal. The Lakers win another championship, the Magic kick themselves – or maybe an effigy of Mickey Mouse – and we settle down to a summer of contemplating exactly how good Kobe Bryant really is.

Oh, the Lakers haven’t yet won the NBA title? Indeed they have; only the league has yet to make the acknowledgement.

You heard all the comparisons, Hollywood vs. Disney World, not that there’s much difference between the two if you don’t count humidity and the traffic on Sunset Boulevard. In Hollywood, however, they always know how the script ends.

And watching Hollywood’s team, the Lakers, so do we.

Not a bad game Thursday night, the fourth of these very enticing finals. The home team (bad guys, if you’re some screenwriter who has Laker tickets) makes a little noise but, because it can’t make free three throws come apart when it should be coming together.

Long ago we learned pro basketball is a game of ebb and flow, and just because one team – the Magic, in this case – looks brilliant and the other can’t read a defense or seemingly a shot clock, it doesn’t mean that’s not going to change.

Trailing by 12 points at halftime, shooting 33 percent from the floor, the Lakers stepped out of their funk, stepped up the defense, made their usual key shots and beat the Magic, 99-91, in overtime.

Or did the Magic beat themselves?

“Free throws,’’ said Orlando coach Stan Van Gundy, the guy who hasn’t gone hungry – literally that is; figuratively, since he and the Magic have never been champions, they are candidates for food stamps.

“What did we shoot, 59 percent?’’ He knew. What we all knew was that when you get 37 foul shots and miss 15, you don’t deserve to win. When you have a five-point lead with fewer than 30 seconds remaining and get tied in regulation, you don’t deserve to win.

This wasn’t exactly a choke job by the Magic. Rather, it was comeback by the Lakers. Rather than a tightening of throats by Orlando, it was a tightening of the defense by Los Angeles.

They know a good story in Hollywood, and Derek Fisher definitely is one. He was with the Lakers when they won their three titles with Shaq and Kobe. Then, because of things like age and salary caps, he was let go, signing first with the Golden State Warriors, where he fit like an elephant would in a Mini Minor, and after that with the Utah Jazz.

His infant daughter was stricken with retinoblastoma, a cancerous tumor in her left eye, but Fisher kept coming back from the hospital to help the Jazz come back in the first two rounds of the ’07 playoffs. Then, released once again, he was re-signed by the Lakers where, as we noted, he released that rainbow 3-point jump shot.

The first, with 4.6 seconds left in regulation, tied the game, 87-87, Thursday night. The second, with 31.3 seconds in overtime, broke another tie. Explaining why he was open on both attempts, Fisher, who offered a very noticeable smile after the one in OT, told ABC-TV, “No. 24 gets a lot of attention.’’

That, of course, is the man of the hour, Kobe Bryant. And even though Kobe was only 11 of 31 on field goal attempts, he did score 32 points and have eight assists and seven rebounds. Without him, of course, the Lakers aren’t even close.

At intermission, however, some may have concluded they were close to a collapse. Yet even though L.A. was out of synch – “We got hamstrung; we played soft,’’ said Lakers coach Phil Jackson – you sensed Orlando didn’t believe in itself.

The Magic kept waiting for the Lakers to make their run, and with Trevor Ariza scoring 13 points in the third quarter after scoring no points in the first half, they made it.

The Lakers are the better team, the championship team, and the only question was when they would play like champions. The answer was not long in coming.

Kobe has been badgered about during this series by critics who no matter how much he does expect him to do more. There was a story that having been on the Olympic team last summer and then going straight into the NBA season, Kobe is worn out, and the weariness is showing. What’s showing is Bryant’s character. And courage.

We’ve watched great shooters over the years, Sam Jones, Jerry West, Oscar Robertson, Michael Jordan naturally and now LeBron James. It’s hard to say where Kobe ranks, but it’s not worse than second.

Weary, worn out, smacked around by Mickael Pietrus, hammered by Dwight Howard, Kobe still connects most of the time when he gets free and some of the time when guys are hanging on his arms.

He wanted a championship. He’s got a championship. He and the Lakers. Like Magic.
As a reporter since 1960, Art Spander is a living treasure of sports history. A recipient of the Dick McCann Memorial Award -- given for his long and distinguished career covering professional football -- he has earned himself a spot in the Pro Football Hall of Fame. And he has recently been honored with the Lifetime Achievement Award by the PGA of America for 2009. 

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http://www.realclearsports.com/articles/2009/06/theres_no_magic_for_orlando.html
© RealClearSports 2009