First Match

The 1996 Summer League was still a little-known tournament. There were no television broadcasts, no courtside cameras, and no reporters. Even the spectators by the court were mostly team staff, there to scout talent and see if they could uncover a hidden gem.

Kurt Rambis was the Lakers' Summer League coach. Rambis had spent most of his career with the Lakers, lived through the Showtime era, and won NBA championships in 1982, 1985, 1987, and 1988.

During his playing career, Rambis was beloved by Lakers fans for his mature underdog mentality and his absolute commitment to being a team player. He was known for his defense and rebounding, while also being an efficient offensive player, with a career-best field-goal percentage of 59.5%. Many in Santa Clara and Los Angeles remembered him for his relentless effort and willingness to do the dirty work that many players refused to do.

Rambis often wore a thick beard and black-rimmed glasses, which earned him the nickname "Superman" from Lakers announcer Chick Hearn. He retired with the Lakers in 1995, ending his fourteen-year NBA career. He then smoothly joined the coaching staff as a Lakers assistant coach.

"Listen up. Our tactics are simple: give the damn ball to Kobe, then get out of the way and play defense. Understood?" Rambis instructed the Lakers' Summer League squad before tip-off. He knew that aside from Kobe, everyone in the Summer League was a bunch of trash, and he had no interest in dealing with them. If not for his lack of seniority, he would never have sacrificed his vacation time to lead a team in the Summer League.

The front office had already told him to take extra care of Kobe. Rambis knew this seventeen-year-old high schooler was now the Lakers' prized treasure. From the owner to the president to the head coach, everyone was absurdly impressed by the kid. He had even arranged the starting lineup according to Kobe's request. It was only a Summer League game, after all. If they played badly, he could just pull them.

Before the game, Kobe had already spoken with Rambis, who agreed to let him start alongside Fisher, Bowen, and Ben Wallace. Thus, the Lakers' starting lineup was PG Derek Fisher, SG Kobe Bryant, SF Bruce Bowen, PF Ben Wallace, and C Travis Knight.

That was right—Bowen and Wallace had also come over to Kobe's side a few days earlier. After the same kind of one-on-one beatdown, Bruce Bowen, who considered himself an elite defender, had been scorched by Kobe for a perfect ten-for-ten. Ben Wallace, with his clumsy footwork, had been faked straight onto the floor by Kobe. The two of them joined Fisher as Kobe's underlings.

Travis Knight was the Bulls' twenty-ninth pick this year, but the stingy Bulls had not signed him. So he came to play in the Lakers' Summer League. At 2.13 meters tall, he looked intimidating, but he had the common weakness of white centers: he was thin.

Of course, that was only relative to the NBA. Summer League physicality was several levels lower.

"Guys, do you want to make some big news this game?" With the game about to begin, Kobe called the players together.

"Boss, tell us what to do. We'll listen to you." Bruce Bowen was the first to respond. Having spent several years overseas, he understood how the world worked. Kobe was his hope of getting signed by the Lakers, so naturally, he would obey without question.

"Full-court pressure. I'll guard the ball handler, and you cut off the passing lanes. Push the tempo. I want to see every one of you moving on defense!" Kobe growled in a low voice. The Lakers' lineup had formidable defensive potential. With a defensive line made up of three future All-Defensive Team members, even if Bowen and Big Ben were still somewhat raw, they were more than enough to crush the entire Summer League.

Fisher saw Kobe's gaze repeatedly drift, seemingly by accident, toward his head, and he could not help trembling. His scalp still throbbed faintly.

"No problem!" Old Fish read the situation and immediately gave Kobe a resolute look.

This was Kobe Bryant's first official game in this life, and he valued it greatly. He still needed to win the Summer League championship to complete his mission.

The current Summer League had sixteen teams. There was no group stage; it used a single-elimination format, and four straight wins would secure the championship.

Their first Summer League opponent was the Detroit Pistons. Their rising star, Grant Hill, naturally would not be playing in the Summer League. After averaging 20.2 points, 9.8 rebounds, and 6.9 assists last year, he had already made the All-Star team.

There was also one player on the team Kobe recognized: their power forward, Jerome Williams. Another rookie from this year, he had been selected by the Pistons with the twenty-sixth pick. At 2.06 meters and 93 kilograms, he looked extremely thin.

The game began with the opening tip. Travis Knight had the height advantage, but his leaping ability was average. The Pistons' Black center won the tip. Kobe immediately appeared in front of the opposing guard.

"Yo, yo, kid, what are you doing?" The Black point guard had spent many years bouncing around the minor leagues. He knew Kobe was the Lakers' hot young prospect, but he did not think much of this seventeen-year-old rookie.

His contempt brought disastrous consequences. Kobe saw that the point guard had not even lowered his center of gravity. He stepped in instantly and cleanly stole the ball!

"Fuck, he hit my hand! He hit my hand!" His shouting did not earn a whistle. The referee had clearly seen that it was a clean steal.

Kobe did not slow down after taking the ball. He strode forward, and all the other players saw was his proud silhouette hanging from the rim.

"Defense! Don't just stand there! The game's only just started!" Kobe dropped down from the basket, his chin slightly raised as if the steal and dunk were nothing worth mentioning.

Damn it, what kind of monster boss am I following? Will Fisher never get his chance to shine? Fisher thought, but his mouth shouted, "Great play! Defense! Defense! Bruce, watch your positioning!"

Kobe looked at Fisher, who had been the first to react, and could not help feeling proud of his leadership. This kid who loved to zone out was improving quickly. Maybe he should knock some more sense into him later?

The first quarter became completely one-sided. Kobe Bryant hounded the ball handler relentlessly. Whether they played point guard or shooting guard, without help from teammates, they could barely dribble past half court. Kobe piled up steal after steal, and every steal was followed by one of Kobe's stylish aerial displays.

Meanwhile, Fisher locked down the other guard. His first-round-pick physique gave him a huge advantage against these minor-league players. Bruce Bowen smothered the opposing small forward, and with his veteran experience, he left his opponent unable to get a shot off. Ben Wallace roamed everywhere, bringing the Lakers endless energy through traps and rebounds. No matter how many timeouts Pistons Summer League coach Alvin Gentry called, he could not stabilize the situation.

Damn it, I know Kobe—the outstanding high school kid. But where did the Lakers find all these players with such strong defense? Shouldn't they be playing in actual NBA games?

Rambis stared in astonishment at the Lakers under Kobe's leadership, tearing into their opponents like a pack of wolves. He was a little dazed. A team with this kind of defensive ability could put up excellent results even in the NBA, couldn't it? Were the opponents just that bad, or could Kobe lead a pile of trash to godlike heights?

When the second quarter began, the Pistons brought their center up to the middle of the court to receive the ball and facilitate the offense. Travis Knight was too slow-footed to deny him from the front, allowing the ball to finally cross half court through the center's playmaking. But the Lakers' half-court defense was like an iron barrel. Kobe had his teammates slow down and stop pressing, shifting into man-to-man half-court defense, and the Pistons simply could not score efficiently.

They could not drive through, their mid-range shots would not fall, their cuts were picked off, and their threes clanged off the rim. Even after cutting down on turnovers, the Pistons still could not find a solution in their half-court offense. It was as if every player had been guarded to death.

Once the Lakers settled into the half court, their offense became Kobe's personal show. As soon as Old Fish brought the ball across half court, he handed it to Kobe as though it were burning his hands. Then he planted his hands on his hips and watched Kobe humiliate every Pistons defender assigned to him.

Using only two moves—a three-point pull-up after a screen and a drive-and-kick—Kobe tore apart the Pistons' defensive line. Alvin Gentry kept changing the player assigned to guard Kobe, but none of them could trouble him in the slightest.

Looking at the despair in the Pistons players' eyes, Fisher remembered what he himself had looked like while training with Kobe and could not help shuddering.

Halftime arrived. Kobe and Rambis encouraged the team together.

"Guys, we played very well in the first half. Now go tear them apart. Plenty of scouts are recording your performances from the sidelines."

Ben Wallace, Bruce Bowen, and Travis Knight all felt their blood surge. After producing such a spectacular performance, their chances of staying in the NBA had surely increased. And all of it had been brought to them by their boss, Kobe Bryant. They knew that without Kobe, they had no independent offensive ability and would make fools of themselves on the court. But with such a sharp blade cutting open the defense for them, they had enormous room to perform on both ends of the floor.

The break ended, and the whistle sounded to begin the second half.

The moment Kobe had the ball, two Pistons players came to trap him. Kobe smiled. This was exactly what he wanted. Kobe's method for dealing with traps was simple: either shoot before the double-team formed, or, if there was no good opportunity, use his court vision to distribute the ball to an open teammate.

The third quarter became Kobe's playmaking showcase. One scalpel-like pass after another went to Bowen and Fisher in the corners. With all that space, they knocked down plenty of threes. Whenever the big men stepped up to trap Kobe, he tossed the ball into the air. Ben Wallace and Travis Knight then got their chances for alley-oop dunks.

Seven assists in a single quarter—this was Kobe's answer to the Pistons' double-teams. The Lakers' offense flowed like water, and both their half-court sets and fast breaks made Rambis think of someone.

Wasn't Magic Johnson during the Showtime era the same way? He would destroy the opponent, then elevate the whole team. The only difference was that Kobe prioritized scoring, while Magic prioritized passing.

By the end of the third quarter, the game had lost all suspense. Kobe did not return to the court, and the final score was Lakers 97, Pistons 61. Kobe finished with an all-around performance of 37 points, 4 rebounds, 11 assists, 4 steals, 1 block, and 3 turnovers.

Their next Summer League game would be against China, a quarterfinalist at the 1996 Atlanta Olympics.