Chapter 87: Between The Scales
Amid the restlessness of the entire arena, Xu Ling calmly walked to the free throw line, steadily making two free throws（ including one technical foul free throw）. 65 to 66, the deficit narrowed again to just 1 point.
More crucially, due to Bynum’s technical foul, the Grizzlies still held possession. They welcomed a prime opportunity to take the lead.
The baseline ball was inbound, Gasol securely received it at the elbow, and facing the slightly slow switch defender, he didn’t hesitate to step-through drive, leaning on the help defender and decisively rising for a light yet firm floater that arced over and banked in!
As the ball went in, the FedEx Forum instantly erupted!
“Paul Gasol!!! Ice-cold finish!” Kevin Harlan’s commentator voice instantly rose, full of passion, “Memphis takes the lead! A clutch strike from the Spaniard, from trailing, free throws, to seizing possession and reversing the score—this possession, the Grizzlies played like a veteran playoff team!”
Phil Jackson stood on the sideline, impassively raising his hand to signal the scorer’s table for a timeout.
The whistle blew, play stopped. The Lakers players headed to the bench, Bynum still muttering with his head down, Kobe wiping sweat with a cold expression. Jackson had his hands in his slacks pockets, his gaze sweeping the scoreboard—67 to 66, Grizzlies leading. His expression was calm as a deep pool, as if the intense fluctuations that just happened had never disturbed his inner peace.
Kobe makes them, Kobe breaks them.
This thought flashed through his mind. He was all too familiar with this script. Kobe’s absolute talent and competitiveness could shred any defense, half with 32 points was proof—this was his “making” side. But when the game bogged down, when opponents kept responding, when teammates started losing control, Kobe’s killer instinct would devour everything. He would trust himself far more than the system, even more than his teammates.
Jackson knew the crux of those last possessions lay here: Kobe’s obsession with a hero matchup against Xu Ling led to simplified offensive choices, stagnant ball movement. And when Bynum lost emotional control, though Kobe stepped in to stop it, he didn’t truly calm the team—his own body language screamed impatience, so how could he truly soothe others?
This wasn’t criticism, just observation. Jackson knew well that this near-obsessive killer instinct made Kobe, enabling those unbelievable shots, carrying the whole team. But it was also this instinct that sometimes severed the most direct path between the team and victory.
Jackson took the tactical board, his voice steady as ever: “We’re playing too rushed.”
As he spoke, the Zen Master’s gaze swept over Kobe, not accusatory but meaningful, “Memphis wants us in isolation plays, forgetting teamwork. From now on, every offense goes through the inside, we play smarter, not harder.”
Kobe stared at him for a moment, nodded, eyes unchanged.
Did he really get it?
Did he really understand?
Phil Jackson watched Kobe’s back as he turned toward the court, his heart unmoved. He was long accustomed to this uncertainty. Coaching Kobe for years, he’d never had that “great, he fully gets me” certainty.
Kobe’s understanding was always unique—he might accept instructions, but execution always bore his strong personal mark. He was a peerless weapon, piercing opponent defenses precisely, yet hard to fully integrate into intricate team rhythm.
Jackson’s thoughts were clear and calm. His earlier reminder was less about instantly changing Kobe’s playstyle and more a deliberate variation embedded in the heat of battle. He knew Kobe’s response now was likely formal respect for authority or tactical concession from competitiveness, not true ideological resonance.
In the end, Kobe was too strong, strong enough that the demon inside him whispered incessantly upon waking: trust yourself, you surpass any system.
Jackson thought no more; he’d done what was needed—provide direction, then observe. The rest, to the game, and to Kobe’s unpredictable, script-shredding superstar instinct.
Jackson’s assessment of Kobe was spot on.
Kobe indeed didn’t take his words to heart; with the third quarter not even over, the Lakers’ No. 24, nearing 40 points, was determined to take his individual offense to the end.
Kobe pushed the fast break, steps steady yet carrying impending pressure. He dribbled to the frontcourt, not waiting for teammates to set, and pulled up for a jump shot one step from the three-point line—rising against Xu Ling’s block, forcing the shot!
This was utterly unreasonable hero ball.
But the instant the basketball left his hand, the entire FedEx Forum fell eerily silent.
It went in!
The Lakers thus reclaimed the lead.
“Give the ball to Eli! Everyone else move! Paul, your screen has to be firmer! Kyle, if there’s an opportunity, attack the basket decisively!” Iavaroni hoarsely roared.
Lowry passed halfcourt and, per the coach’s order, passed to Xu Ling.
Xu Ling waved off one side, declining the screen. What he wanted was simple: one-on-one.
The crowd roared wildly; this was one of the night’s rare moments where Xu Ling ditched pick and roll for isolation against Kobe.
Kobe, defending full throttle, coldly barked: “Come on!”
Xu Ling lowered his center of gravity, then made no extra moves, ripping a massive crossover dribble from left to right that cracked Kobe’s defense, driving inside. But Kobe’s defense wouldn’t crumble from one flaw; experience, awareness, and judgment let him slide over, blocking Xu Ling’s path. It looked like the offensive push was ending, but Xu Ling suddenly raised the ball, pulling back with a counterintuitive step-back and another step-back
“OMG!!!!”
Harlan cried out in shock at Xu Ling’s double step-back stunning the arena; even Kobe, who prided himself on mastering every technique, was caught off guard, as Xu Ling rose from the created space for a three-pointer.
“Swish!!!”
“What magnificent footwork!” Harlan exclaimed, “Eli answers Kobe with another top-10 play!”
“This young man knows no fear, no shrinking before Kobe!” Collins screamed, “Let all the doubters shut up, this is a great game, a great duel!”
Chill deepened in Kobe’s eyes. He received at the top, faced Xu Ling, jab step with crossover step then rose cleanly; this time, Xu Ling’s block was perfect!
“Duang!”
Kobe clanged it! Gasol muscled Odom for the key rebound.
Xu Ling sparked the fast break, frontcourt three-on-two! He cut middle drawing the double team, passing to Lowry trailing on the right.
Lowry got a wide-open look, adjusted, rose—but missed.
“Bang!”
It rimmed out!
Kobe secured the defensive rebound, ignored teammates again, dribbled to the frontcourt, posted up for a fadeaway jumper that went in.
Xu Ling called for pick and roll, drew the double team and passed to Gasol for the assist on the Spaniard’s dunk.
The game devolved into brutal mano-a-mano slaughter.
Kobe kept scoring with unguardable shooting and powerful drives; Xu Ling countered with clever isolations and passing,
sides trading leads, each bucket like tearing flesh from the other.
In one off-ball box-out, Xu Ling tangled with Odom, arms entwined, battling for position, both crashing down; just two possessions later, Kobe collided head-on with Xu Ling squeezing for space, both hitting the floor, no whistle from the referee. They leaped up almost simultaneously, not even glancing at each other, just continuing the battle.
The deadlock lasted to the final 27 seconds of the third quarter.
Lakers possession.
Kobe received at the top, facing Xu Ling’s tight defense, chained jabs then forced right drive, losing balance in the physical confrontation. He staggered backward drifting, extreme fadeaway at the 24-second buzzer.
Buzzer-beater in!
Kobe pumped his fist in a low roar, Lakers bench erupting.
But before cheers fully exploded, Xu Ling raced to the baseline for a quick long pass—the basketball rocketed across the court, finding streaking Kyle Lowry!
Lowry caught and drove, banking a layup before Fisher could recover and block.
It went in!
End of third, 86 to 86, teams tied.
This scene prompted Harlan during the break: “I have to say, this is the most thrilling, intense, brutal quarter I’ve seen this season! Kobe Bryant, like a cold-blooded beast, hitting those despairing shots in his signature way, probably another near-15 in the quarter! He’s declaring to all of Memphis: this is why he’s a superstar!”
“But what shocks me more is Eli and his Grizzlies! Every time Kobe seems to drag it to garbage time, the Lakers ready to stretch it to double digits, this kid stands up with an answer! With shots, passes, his unyielding will, holding the Lakers at bay!”
“86 to 86, no losers this quarter, folks, cheer—this epic game has 12 minutes till the final outcome!”
Xu Ling sweated buckets, double figures again in the quarter, pushing to his limit; Kobe too breathed heavily, looking at Xu Ling—no opening contempt, not facing such tenacious opposition in ages.
In the short two-minute break, the air in FedEx Forum felt solidified then squeezed, so dense it was hard to breathe.
Xu Ling stood off-court, chugging Gatorade from the trainer.
Iavaroni loudly said things he had no heart to hear.
On the Lakers side, Kobe was the same. He didn’t sit on the bench for even a second’s rest, standing behind the Zen Master, ready to return at break’s end.
