It's one thing to actually be a fan of the Los Angeles Lakers—the team. Those falling in this category see a club that remains competitive but in disarray, an organization struggling to reconcile its iconic championship identity with a new era ostensibly led by center Andrew Bynum.
Kobe Bryant fans are a different breed altogether.
The first distinguishing characteristic is an egregious disregard for efficiency. In a city where it's acceptable to be 15 minutes late to just about anything, maybe we shouldn't be surprised.
Nevertheless, Bryant is inefficient even by Los Angeles standards. A career 45 percent shooter, Kobe is shooting at an even 43 percent after spending most of the season closer to 42. In his best seasons, Bryant averaged closer to 46 or even 47 percent.
Beyond the arc, he's making just 30 of every 100 attempts.
Excuses abound, to be sure: "He has to take so many shots because his team is so bad," or "Half of his shots are terrible shots, because he's forced to bail his team out of lost-cause possessions."
There's a tiny bit of truth to these claims, but as nostalgic delusion is oft to do, these nuggets of truth are exaggerated into grand narratives designed to rationalize the end of an epic dynasty.
In his 3-21 performance against the New Orleans Hornets, Bryant was 0-7 in the first half—four of those shots were three-pointers. This is symptomatic of a past-prime player doing what so many is his situation tend to do: settle for the outside shot.
Of course, those viewing events through purple-and-gold tinted glasses may be quick to remind us that Kobe ended up hitting a game winner. Congratulations must be in order... right?
When you have three All-Star caliber players on your team and arguably the best low-post duo in the NBA, there shouldn't even be a game-winning shot against the lowly New Orleans Hornets. Every first-half possession should be a game-winning shot, and anything short of a 10-point lead going into intermission is a disappointment.
That might have happened if the offense didn't still live and die by Kobe's jumper. After all, Bynum only had 10 shots (of which he made seven). Ramon Sessions only took eight shots (of which he made four).
If you're a genuine Lakers' fan, you'd like to see better shot-selection, and you'd probably like to see some more plays called for Kobe's "supporting cast."
And yet, the Bryant fans seem to care less about what's good for the Lakers and more about the pristine image of an icon. Win or lose, this is Kobe's team... even if that means lose.
Herein lies another myth spun by Kobe's fans: The Lakers would be a terrible team without him.
In a recent poll (scientific only in its measure of how passionately these fans believe in ghosts of legends' past), over 82 percent of respondents picked Bryant as the MVP over alternative choices LeBron James and Kevin Durant.
Some similarly responded to claims that Bynum has supplanted Bryant as the Lakers' best player with with shock, awe and disbelief at the audacity that someone would write about the facts rather than historic reputation. Without Bryant's pomp and circumstance, the Lakers feel like just another good team—not a dynastic champion.
It appears some would prefer the feel of a championship team to an actual championship team.
There's a simple explanation for why Bryant still appears so indispensable—he takes nearly twice as many shots as Andrew Bynum and averages almost 10 more shots per game than Pau Gasol.
If Kobe Bryant switched places with Kyrie Irving for one day, then sure, he should take at least 23 shots a night. But, Bryant doesn't play for the Cavaliers—he plays with All-Stars (plural).
And, to be clear, it's not just about prolific shooting. When the ball swings to Kobe, it stops. That's his style. He likes to size up defenders, methodically plan his next step, and use an array of hesitation moves and fancy footwork to create the sliver of space he needs to make a play.
Yes, it's all very impressive. But, it's not the best thing for the Lakers' right now. It kills ball movement and prevents his teammates from developing anything closely resembling a rhythm.
Bryant might still churn out 4.6 assists a game, but that's just what happens when someone has the ball in his hands so consistently. As a great player, he's bound to make some great plays for other people—especially when he finds himself in the air with nowhere else to go.
But these assists come at the expense of fluid and timely ball movement. The Lakers do in fact get their share of assists, but they're not the product of a sound offense. They also get their share of turnovers, with a 1.45 assist-to-turnover ratio that ranks in the middle of the league (tied with the Charlotte Bobcats).
For his part, Bryant turns the ball over 3.6 times a game. Again, that may simply be because he constantly has the ball in his hands, but that excuse cuts both ways—it's the same reason he picks up 4.6 assists per game.
While it took Kobe some last-minute "heroics," to upend the Hornets, a team-effort would have diminished the needs for heroics in the first place. This is the paradox for Kobe Bryant: the more he plays the role of MVP, the less valuable he actually is.
In contrast, the West-leading San Antonio Spurs entered halftime last night with a 27-point lead over those same Hornets. Unbelievably, 13 different Spurs played at least 10 minutes in that game, and each one of them scored at least five points. Five different players scored in the double-figures off the bench, while only one starter did so.
The next time you hear a Kobe Bryant apologist decrying the wretched state of the Lakers' roster, ask yourself why Patty Mills, Gary Neal and Tiago Splitter are any better-equipped to dominate the Hornets than Steve Blake, Matt Barnes and Josh McRoberts.
It isn't that one bench has substantially more individual talent than the other. The difference is that one bench plays in an ensemble system that give its role-players a few lines. Kobe may always be in the running for an Oscar, but his supporting cast looks a lot more like one-line extras.
You can still respect Bryant's world-cass talent while asking him to use it a bit differently. That's what great coaches must do.
You can also give endless praise for his superhuman career while acknowledging that Los Angeles was at its best when it included a heavy dose of Shaquille O'Neal. O'Neal averaged 27 or more points five times for the Lakers, and frequently dominated postseason action with 30 or more. Bryant still got his shots, but not at the expense of points in the paint.
Yes, Bynum has proven to lack maturity, but perhaps added responsibility would result in some commensurate personal growth. He may not yet be the Lakers' MVP, but he may need to be. His 36-point outburst against the Clippers speaks for itself.
Kobe fans can celebrate the facade of an MVP performance, but it's a performance that shares more in common with Hollywood than the Hall of Fame. This is only Kobe at his best if you insist on believing a storyline that woefully ignores reality.
Those aren't haters talking—those are realists. And for the Lakers fans not sipping the Kool-Aid, the truth matters. It's the only way to win another championship this season or the next.
If you care more about the Lakers than the image upon which they're built, you know it's time for Kobe to change with the times. He may still be the best Laker, but he'd be even better if he weren't.
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