On the Lakers' side, Shaquille O'Neal scored twenty-eight points and grabbed twelve rebounds, but his offensive efficiency clearly declined in the second half. Kobe Bryant contributed twenty-two points, six rebounds, and five assists, but after Pippen contained him in the second quarter, he never regained his first-quarter rhythm. Fisher scored ten points, while Horry had eight.
The atmosphere in the Houston Rockets' locker room was completely different from before.
There was none of the calm after winning the first game, nor the silence after losing the second. It was a complicated mix of exhaustion, excitement, and stubborn resolve. Barkley sat in front of his locker with an ice pack on his knee, kinesiology tape on his shoulder, and a bottle of Gatorade in his hand. He had not changed out of his jersey yet, and sweat was still dripping from him, but there was light in his eyes—the kind that only appeared when someone saw hope in the depths of despair.
"Brothers," his voice boomed through the locker room, "listen to me."
The locker room fell silent. Everyone looked at him.
"We won on the road."
Barkley stood up, and the ice pack fell to the floor. He did not pick it up. "Three to two. They were on their home court, wearing their jerseys, chanting their slogans, thinking they could finish us off tonight. But on their turf, we snatched the win away from them. Do you know what that means?"
His gaze swept across every person present.
"It means their momentum is gone. Up three to one, at home, thinking they had it won—and then they lost. Imagine the looks on their faces in that locker room right now—Shaq staring into space, Kobe furious, Phil Jackson figuring out how to adjust. They're panicking. They thought this series was