Under The Phog
Kobe’s eyes, like a black mamba on the prowl, surveyed the airport going back and forth between the crying Ms. Cleveland, her face buried deep into Dad Gilbert’s chest, her tears streaming down his maroon and gold Cavaliers sweatshirt like melted ice cream dripping down the side of a child’s waffle cone, then back to LeBron, Wade, and Bosh who were using the terminal as their own personal stage, dancing and parading around with Pat Riley and his Amy’s as if they were celebrating an NBA championship.
“You’re in good hands,” Kobe Bryant said glaring off into the distance at the exiting Pat Riley, the Young Three, and the Amys. He looked back at Ms. Cleveland and smiled. “I promise you, we will do whatever we can to make sure you get your ring before he gets his.”
As Kobe walked away from the scene, he winced unexpectedly at a searing pain in his right kneecap, a painful reminder of the thousands of game mileage that was now finally taking their toll on his normally spry legs. As he thought about the words he had just said to Ms. Cleveland, he wondered if even he believed them anymore.It had been a month since the most physical series of his life against the near two-time champion Boston Celtics and yet he still felt sore. The soreness had become apart of him, the aches and pains in his muscles feeling as natural to him as the way the release of a 25-foot jumper leaving his hands.
“This is the way things are going to be,” Kobe admitted to himself. “I simply have to live with the pain, because at the end of the day, a lil pain in my knee feels a whole helluva lot better than losing.”
The lines were scripted. They were what the great ones would say, what Michael would say, and what he himself needed to believ...
Article Source: Bleacher Report - Los Angeles Lakers