For the most
part, Kobe Bryant and Paul Pierce traveled in separate circles on Sunday night
in Game 2 of the NBA Finals at TD Banknorth Garden. (Motto: We may be named
after a financial institution, but we still have parquet!) They matched up more
frequently in last Thursday's Game 1, two streamlined sumos fighting for
position in their dohyo just above the free throw line. But now, with just 25
seconds remaining and the Boston Celtics clinging to a two-point lead that had
stood at 24 only seven minutes earlier, Bryant was the one called on to defend
Pierce, who held the ball at the top of the key. ¶ Implicit in each
Bryant-Pierce minibattle is another struggle, a crusade to win the hearts and
minds of NBA fans—nothing less than parallel campaigns for redemption. The Los
Angeles Lakers' Bryant is already recognized as the best player of his
generation, but he wants a CSS (Championship Sans Shaq) that would, in his
mind, cap the rehabilitation of an image that has taken more blows than a
piñata. For his part, the Celtics' sometimes petulant Pierce longs for a title
that would enable him to approach the elite status of Bryant as well as divest
himself of some of the baggage that he has accrued during a 10-year career in
Boston. Mistakes? I've made a few, Pierce will allow, an admission that comes
far more reluctantly from Bryant.
left and barreled into the lane, the manner in which he usually attacks the
hoop. Bryant was on his hip but needed help, which three Lakers provided. One
of them, guard Derek Fisher, hit Pierce across the forearm and was called for a
foul. Pierce not only made both free throws, but he also clinched the victory
at the other end by blocking Sasha Vujacic's three-point attempt, grazing the
ball with the fingertips of his left hand. Two James Posey foul shots put the
final margin at 108--102, Boston's second straight home win over Los Angeles,
which was favored in most quarters to win the series.
travels farthest on his road to redemption may well be the difference in a
championship series that has conjured up more 1980s history than a documentary
on Ronald Reagan. As of Sunday night it was advantage Pierce, his dramatic
(Lakers coach Phil Jackson repeatedly suggested overdramatic) third-quarter
return to the court from a right-knee sprain having sparked the Celtics to a
98--88 victory in Game 1. Wearing a support sleeve but showing no other signs
of distress ("I didn't really think about the injury, because once I step
on the court it pretty much goes out the window"), he scored 28 points on
Sunday, only two fewer than Bryant, and on 16 shots to Kobe's 23.
Bryant was the
bright light of an otherwise listless L.A. performance—though not as bright as
he usually is. Perhaps sensing that most of the Lakers are Not Ready for
Prime-Time Players, Jackson had put Game 2 on Bryant's shoulders, recalling his
9-for-26 shooting in the Game 1 loss. "He usually doesn't have two games in
a row that are bad," Jackson said before Game 2. "Kobe comes back and
plays better. So we anticipate that's going to be a pattern." Well, Bryant
really didn't play better on Sunday, not until the fourth quarter, when he
scored 13 of his 30 points.
There are others,
of course, who figure in this struggle for redemption, not the least of whom is
Celtics big man Kevin Garnett, famously recognized as a postseason failure
during his 12 seasons in Minnesota. In Games 1 and 2 Garnett was a rock,
averaging 20.5 points and 13.5 rebounds, drifting around the edges of the
offense but always delivering when called upon, and protecting the paint in his
unselfish and vigilant way. There is shooting guard Ray Allen, the sometimes
forgotten member of the Celtics' Big Three, another All-Star who in 12 previous
seasons had never advanced this far in the playoffs. Like Garnett, Allen was
steady, providing 18 points a game and the primary defensive pressure on
Bryant. And for that matter, a championship would also redeem coach Doc Rivers,
whose acumen has been doubted by a large contingent of Boston fans for four
seasons, including this one, in which his team won a league-leading 66
But there is
redemption and there is redemption, and it is Bryant and Pierce, in their
Promethean struggles with the only NBA teams for which they've played, who need
it most. As the series moved to L.A. for Games 3, 4 and 5, it was clearly on
Bryant to get his team moving. He was extremely animated in timeout huddles on
Sunday, even when the Lakers were down by 20. What did he say? "Get our
beep in gear," said Bryant, using beep instead of bleep. "Play beep
harder, a bunch of other beeps. It was beep, beep, beep, beep, beep. Eddie
Murphy Raw times 10."
At the same time,
it was incumbent upon Pierce to keep his foot on the gas against a team that
had won all eight of its playoff games at Staples Center. The Celtics' captain
had much assistance in Boston, including an improbable 21 points on Sunday from
a backup backup frontcourtman named Leon Powe (pronounced POE). Jackson called
him Pow, probably deliberately, to call attention to the disparity between
Powe's free throw total (13 in his 15 minutes) and L.A.'s (10 for the game).
The Lakers will likely say nevermore to such a Powe performance at Staples, so
Pierce will need to gear up his act on the road, where it will no doubt be
suggested that his knee injury is, well, something you'd see in Hollywood.
IT WAS about a
year ago that Bryant and Pierce, their teams long forgotten (the Lakers had
lost in the first round of the playoffs and the Celtics didn't even make the
postseason, both for the second straight year), began comparing notes when they
ran into each other during pickup games at UCLA. "We talked about a lot of
things," Bryant said last week. "We talked about who was getting traded
first. I guess that's one thing I'm happy I didn't win." Pierce, who could
envision a bleak future as, say, a Los Angeles Clipper, agrees. "I remember
us saying that neither one thought we'd be back with our team," says
Pierce, who grew up in Inglewood and returns to his Southern California roots
in the off-season. "He felt strongly about moving on from the Lakers, and I
felt the same way with Boston. So it's kind of ironic that we're in this
position on the same teams playing each other for a championship."
quest for Pierce is more desperate than it is for Bryant. The Lakers star has
three rings, even if they were earned alongside Shaquille O'Neal, and is a
surefire Hall of Famer. Pierce, on the other hand, had played in just one
conference finals (in 2002) before this season and waits, impatiently, just
outside the velvet ropes of superstardom. He has never been as airily haughty
in the public eye as Kobe. When Bryant was asked last week why so many of his
teammates wear his signature sneakers (Pau Gasol, Vladimir Radmanovic and D.J.
Mbenga lace up the new Hyperdunk, while Ronny Turiaf favors the older Zoom Kobe
III), he had the chance to muster up at least some wink-of-the-eye humility.
We're all just waiting for Ronny to get his own shoe, he might've said.
Instead, Bryant lapsed into Nike-speak, referring to his famous viral video
clip. "They all have an interest in jumping over cars," he said.
"It intrigues them, so they wear the shoes." That is Bryant, take him
or leave him, the latter being what much of America—aside from L.A., where
Kobe-adoration knows no bounds—chooses to do. His hunt for redemption is very
real, but he does not ask for our blessing or approval along the way.
through life. Pierce claws. The Celtics' swingman has not been pilloried to the
degree that Bryant has, but then Pierce has not publicly erred on such a
manifest scale as Bryant did when he found himself accused of rape in 2003.
(The charge was dropped.) Pierce was clearly the victim when he was stabbed
nearly a dozen times in a Boston nightclub in September '00. Still, Pierce has
had his moments, which he collectively calls "the dumb stuff I did."
For much of his early career he affixed a scowl to his face, suggesting that
this child's game for which he was handsomely compensated brought about as much
pleasure as dealing with a duodenal ulcer. He played angry as well, bulling his
way to the basket and flailing his arms wildly to get a foul call, the American
version of the European flop. (Though his game has become much more refined, he
still does that from time to time.) He came across as the emblem of the
self-centered American player when, as the team's top scorer, he "led"
the United States to a sixth-place finish in the '02 world championships in
Indianapolis, alienating teammates and coaches George Karl and Gregg Popovich.
And who could forget when he showed up at a press conference after the Celtics'
Game 6 overtime win over the Indiana Pacers in the first round of the '05
playoffs with his head wrapped in bandages, to protest a foul that he thought
should have been called.