Albert's voice grew solemn. "In NBA history, teams that win Game 5 have an 85% chance of ultimately winning the championship. The Lakers are standing at the edge of a cliff now. It's not that they have no chance, but their chances are slim. That 15% chance of a comeback requires them to win two straight on the road. The Knicks only need one more win."
Harlan concluded, "Game 5 of the Finals is over. The Knicks lead 3-2. Game 6 will be in Los Angeles, at the Staples Center. The Lakers are fighting with their backs to the wall, while the Knicks have championship point in hand. Who will play better basketball in Game 6? I don't know. But I do know this series isn't over yet."
Postgame press conference. Kobe sat at the table, the microphone in front of him set a little too low. His expression was cold, though not the kind of cold he showed reporters—it was coldness toward himself.
"Kobe, you lost the pivotal Game 5 and now trail 2-3. Do you still have confidence?" Kobe was silent for a second. "Yes. Because it's not over yet. Three-two isn't four-two. We still have one game to play, on our home court."
A reporter pressed on. "Li Fei scored 77 points today. Do you have any way to contain him?" Kobe looked at him. "No one can contain Li Fei. But we can contain his teammates. His teammates scored 35 points today. Next game, we won't let them score another 35."
Another reporter asked, "Do you think you can win Game 6 at home?" The corner of Kobe's mouth twitched slightly. "Yes. Because we're going to drag this series to Game 7. In a Game 7, anything can happen."
O'Neal sat beside Kobe, an ice pack