Jackson set down the remote, folded his arms across his chest, and looked at everyone in the room.
"We're down 0-2, but we still have a chance. Back on our home court, at Staples Center, in front of those fans wearing purple jerseys, we're going to win two games and bring this series back to even. This isn't confidence. This is belief. We are the best team in this league, bar none. We're going to prove it. Not in the regular season, not in the first two rounds of the playoffs, but in the Finals. Right now."
He paused, and his voice sank lower.
"I know some of you think being down 0-2 means it's the end of the world. But it isn't. In 1969, the Celtics were down 0-2 to the Lakers, and they won. In 1977, the Trail Blazers were down 0-2 to the 76ers, and they won. In 2000, we weren't down 0-2—we were up 2-0—no, we were down 0-2. But anyway, history has seen teams come back from an 0-2 deficit before. And we're the Lakers. We don't accept defeat."
The locker room fell silent for a moment.
Then Kobe stood up and set his water cup on the table.
"The coach is right. We still have a chance. We only lost Game 2 because of bad luck. Game 3, at home, at Staples Center, in front of those fans wearing purple jerseys, we'll win."
He swept his gaze across everyone present.
"We'll win."
After the meeting ended, the players returned to the court and began practicing.
O'Neal threw down a string of ferocious dunks in the post. He dunked over the backup center five times, and each slam shook the rim. With every shake, his confidence grew a little stronger.
Kobe practiced mid-range jumpers from