#CourtsideColumn THE FINALS CHAPTER

Games On.

By TIM DAVID HARVEY

What does early June mean to you? That last exam? The end of school or college maybe? A couple of weeks from that holiday you've been working towards all year? It could be anything but what does early June mean to an NBA player?

It means the final destination of the year for two NBA teams out of sixteen who endured the tough, long season and a play hard or go home playoff campaign. It means that one of these two teams will write their names in the NBA history books where the other team will merely remain an afterthought. It's about the NBA Finals and it will end with the champion team reaping all the glory and the success that every team worked hard for but that only one team can obtain.

It means more than the commercials, no matter how hot they are. It's truly amazing. It means more than the sneakers, no matter how nice those hyperdunks may be. It means more than all the big trades and news stories that dominate the 82 game long season instead of just being a sidebar. It means more than the state of the art, awe inspiring arenas, coupled with the money made off merchandise and the concessions, although there's not much that beats a Friday night big game with a brew and your closest. It means more than the emphatic player introductions, fireworks and in game entertainment, although that does get you fired up. It means more then the cheerleaders, although they do look real nice. It means more than the celebrities in the Jack Nicholson seats, dominating the first rows, although there's not much cooler than seeing Larry David sitting next to Spike Lee.

It means more than the expensive suits, and grown up, dress code envelope pushing fashions of the players arriving to the game. It even means more than the multi-million dollar endorsement deals and recession defying bidding wars for advertising space between timeouts. It even means more than any single player gracing the court that night. With all respect to the elite superstars of the league. It means more than almost every home fan wearing the same players jersey, this is all about every player on the floor and on the bench giving their all-as one-for a common goal. This is because what all it comes down too is the game itself, which for the majority of players, coaches and personnel will be the biggest game of their lives.

It's deeper then the midseason grind of a 10 game road trip. Its more vivid then the dream of a kid emulating a Jordan buzzer beater on the streets, his friend by his side assuming the role of the commentator, line for line like it was an infamous quote from a movie. For the two teams that make it you may have come close and tasted it before, but now you have first class reservations. It doesn't matter how long you've dreamed and waited for this moment you better be ready, because its here now.

No matter what happened this season, no matter how many games previously you won or lost it doesn't matter. No matter which journalist wrote you off or which pundit championed you it doesn’t matter as its all about now. It's all about the next four to seven games. It's about every second from the tip to the buzzer. It's about every loose ball, every hustle, steal, charge, foul, free throw and every point whether made on the scoreboard or on the tone of the series. It's about the game as strategic as chess and as unpredictable and free as Jazz (word to Utah). It's about your heart, your enthusiasm your drive. It's all about how much you really want to win, because if your desires not as strong as your opponents then you simply wont win.

It's all about your chance to go down in history, it's all about those 'amazing' moments. It's all about Magic's junior sky-hook or his playing centre and leading his team to the 'chip in the absence of Kareem Abdul Jabbar. Its all about “Who caught it?”, “Havlicek”! It's about warriors of the game like Willis Reed carrying his team on one leg. It's all about playing hard and prevailing over Bill Laimbeer and the rest of the Detroit Pistons who fight so tough. It's all about balloons falling on your floor with no one there to celebrate because you tempted fate to much in the face of Celtic pride.

It's about defying expectations, breaking rules, going against the grain. It's about not caring that no team has come back from a deficit of so many games, because your not going home tonight. It's about being wrote off completely and ignoring all put downs. It's when a strong team and unit defeats and almost sweeps a team with four Hall of Famer's on it. It's about every game counting. It's all about David beating Goliath at least once, draining it from deep whilst stepping over Tyronn Lue (nows your chance for revenge coach!). It's about after a decade of never touching glory crying tears of joy one year to not one year later sitting in a suit and watching your team being eliminated. It's all about worst to first, best to least.

It's about Larry O'Brien, its about those fingers on your hands waiting for those rings. It's all about the same dream you had as a kid. It's all about working on your dream all day long and then bouncing your worn out Spalding against a poster of Larry Bird when it got too dark and cold to play outside. It's that dream that you would of spent all day as a kid chasing if it wasn't for knowing if you didn't respond to the next time your mum called you inside there would be hell to pay. It's about what means the world to you, what gets you out the bed, to the gym, to the court or just even what gets you to subscribe to the NBA League pass. Then again this is just basketball right? After all this is just the NBA Finals, just what you've been waiting all year to watch and just what the two teams have been waiting their whole lives for to play.

Get Ready.

#TheKobeSeries THE BASKETBALL DIARIES

One Last Vine.

By TIM DAVID HARVEY

Dear Diary...or should I say Kobe!?

I can't believe it! I mean we all knew it was coming, but you know most of us refuse to believe something until we see it. Or learn the hard way. Or maybe it's just a case of not thinking about something we don't ever want to actually happen. A kind of wishful thinking that it doesn't. A fruitless approach but one still full of an effort that goes unrecognised. It's for sure not a case of you don't know what you've got 'till it's gone. We all knew for 20 years what we had.

But after two decades, one last season of winding down, farewell tour games, four final quarters and a buzzer horn it was all over. Retired. Rafter banner and Hall ready. Forever in fame...but no longer in game.

I woke up this morning and Kobe Bryant was gone.

One of the greatest NBA players of all time. Certainly the closest inspiration to his idol, Michael Jordan, 23. Number 24 and 8...about to be up there with his teammate Shaq and all the other Laker greats. Mikan, Wilt, the fire of Jerry West, the ice of Elgin Baylor, the silk of Jaamal Wilkes, Big Game Worthy, Cap Kareem and the Magic man. Perhaps if it wasn't for Earv, Kob' would go down...and up as the greatest Laker ever, but as Johnson introduced the Black Mamba to the STAPLES crowd last night you knew whose Hollywood night it was.

To the tune of 60 incredible points at his age in front of an 18,000 sell out in front of the game and Hollywoods elite. From former teammates Derek Fisher and thank God Lamar Odom, to celebrities like Kanye West, Jay Z and of course Jack.

Heeeeere's Kobe!

About to hand it down to number 2 D'Angelo Russell, Jordan Clarkson, Julius Randle and Larry Nance Jr and their Laker legacy after one more memory for his Vino and Gold legend on Mamba Day.

The Nike athlete just did it like the commercial. Not even Jordan could take the air out his career like this. You have to love this a######!

One more for the road. One last ride.

Pick a moment from the history books for your memory banks. There's more than eight wonders for number 24 over that many seconds, 48 minutes and 82 games, over the amount of time it takes your kid to be a man of their own.

Since '96...golden classic!

There's the time he took his talent and sunglasses to the draft. Or the time he made all us high school kids jealous by taking Brandy to the prom. From Tyra Banks to his wife Vanessa he was the man. He even had the balls to rap. But it was his skill in another game with just one ball that really kept it real. Just like winning the Slam Dunk contest, rookie year in your warm ups. Or starring with Shaq, Eddie Jones and Nick Van Exel in an almost full Western All-Star starting team. And then there was the three titles with the Shaq and Zen Master dynasty. Then two more with his Spanish brother Pau Gasol and Phil and Fish again. And let's not leave out those two Olympic gold medals in the Dobermans kennel.

Who could forget? Like numbers like 81. Or 62 points over three quarters over Dallas like a Maverick. Giving Dwight Howard and Steve Nash a baptism before they ever christened the L.A. court as Lakers. Who could forget all the dunks, crossovers and fadeaways? All the moves, shaking off all the injuries. Like a torn rotator cuff, playing through the pain of his shoulder hanging out his socket. Or tearing his Achilles, trying to push it back into place like the God that he is, before standing up and making two free throws. Before walking off like the legend he is...no Paul Pierce wheelchair. Or even fellow retired Laker legend Gary Vitti popping that dislocated digit back in its painful place. Atta boy!

From Boston to Beans town there are so many Mamba moments through the snakes and ladders of his time on the hardwood pine. Like his Phantom Menace, force play in that operatic face mask. Or the Coach Kobe sidelined time...hey, you never know! Or a personal favourite how he reacted to (or should we say didn't) when former teammate, than a foe Matt Barnes tried to inbound the ball in his face.

Everyone's got their own special moment. That's just how much he means to so many people.

The career of Kobe Bryant means more to me than just being a 'bleed purple and live gold' fan of the L.A. Lakers. Being born in the soccer mad U.K. I started liking Basketball in 1996 when I was 11 years old. Jordan was the greatest but If I didn't want to look like a "glory supporter" I had to pick someone else other than the Chicago Bulls to follow as a fan. Los Angeles and the purple and sunshine gold of the Lakers drew me in like the backcourt play of Eddie Jones and Nick Van Exel. Little did I know that months later they'd draft some 18 year old and a big fella. 20 years of living and dying hard with the same team and I just had to make the trip back to the States this January to see Kobe play at STAPLES one last time. I mean I've not just grown up with this guy I've wrote about him when the lack of televised coverage in my home country meant I had to find another way to stay connected to his story. I got my first writing gig off an article I wrote about him. Too young to have witnessed Magic I don't just owe my Laker gold memories to him...I owe my career to him.

All good things don't come to an end...they live on in memory!

#FarewellKobe Thank you for everything! #TheKobeSeries

#TheKobeSeries THE GRATEFUL EIGHT/FOREVER 24

24/8

By TIM DAVID HARVEY.

Face it beans, it's almost over! The chips are well and truly down. The games almost in the refrigerator and you know all too well about the jello. Soon the man that will join the legendary Los Angeles Laker legacy making likes of Chickie, Magic, Kareem, the Logo and his old Wild West partner Shaq in a forum of bronze in the purple heart of the downtown City of Lost Angels will retire. That will be it! Day called. No more purple reign in So Cal. But as Kobe Bryant hangs up those Nikes which of his iconic purple and gold jerseys will be worthy enough to be raised to the Big Game, silk, stilted rafters with the likes of the aformentioned, Jaamal Wilkes, James Worthy, Gail Goodrich, Elgin Baylor and of course Wilt Chamberlain, the 100 point man who only Kobe got as close to like Jordan!?

Eight Wonder.

In the last Great Western days when the Lakers played in their Ingelwood, white pillared colliseum and still rocked their Showtime 80's uniforms with the purple and white lined piping, it was an 18 year old kid with an afro and sunglasses to match that was the hottest thing in California and Lakers attire in the 90's not named Rene Russo. Some didn't get this shorty but after many Jazz to Utah's ears airballs made him be cool, he went ultra Travolta when he found his Saturday Night, Grease slick rhythm. There was the Slam Dunk contest win back in the bald M.J. days where this young Airness didn't even bother to work out of his warm-ups and then there was the move. The major shift like number 23 laying it up in the line, changing hands. New digs, new unis and a new approach saw Kobe leap into Shaq's arms before the death of a dynasty rocked these fellas as he won his first championship and then went all Lionel Richie, once, twice, thrice times a Larry O'Brien lover for the Mike like threepeat. If that wasn't enough once Big Daddy took his talents to the Heat of South Beach, this little red Corvette and Prince that would be King busted through all sorts of brick walls, car jumping like he ran off Diesel and not Aristotle. Then if that wasn't enough Kobe Bryant almost jumped over the Big Dipper...forget Jumpman. Over Drake's Toronto Raptors a decade ago when Aubrey Graham was just a teen T.V. show idol, the Black Mamba finally found his venom sinking more points into Canada then he did against the Mavericks of Dallas just a few weeks, three quarters and 62 points ago. If you want to put Kobe Bryant's number 8 number up in the championship banner ceiling, where you can't even find the range of his talent, you just may want to add a one next to it.

24 Carat Purple & Gold.

One over Jordan. That's what people think. But Kobe Bryant's counting up to number 24 represented more than that, or number 23 for the man that chose his Lower Merion High School digits before 33 (which obviously Kobe couldn't rock because of Kareem). It meant redemption. The post Diesel and Zen age that saw Kobe reunite with...well Phil Jackson. And then D-Fish, class of '96. Before being fast and furious nitrus injected with some real championship Gasoline in the form of his second partner in victory crime Pau Gasol. But let's not forget number seven who got them to heaven (we see you Lamar Odom...stay on the up!). Kobe took the number 24 and a real 15 to go for his one goal. Two more of the same thing Gollum found so precious. But this Vino was more Voldermort as he looked to wizard his way to being the NBA's Lord of the Rings...he even dressed up as the big, bad with no nose from 'Harry Potter' for Halloween. But Kobe had one for the legend of Larry...scary huh?! The perfect villain. It was no more Mr. Nice Guy for the most competitive player since the hero from Chicago that wore a gold rope around his neck. But forget the great debate between the constant Kobe against Mike, head-to-head comparisons. What if Bryant played himself? Young vs old. Number 8 versus number 24. Vino V Bean. Batman against the Dark Knight. Forget the Man of Steel, Superman! From father calling time (no Jellybean) to injury crippling prime, Kobe's been fighting enough of himself and his own demons over the last few years and closing chapters of his career. Twenty four hours a day. Get it? Eight days a week?! To be one of basketballs Beatles in a fab four with the real, only big-three of Michael, Magic and Bird. Perhaps his greatest victory wasn't the one soaked in sweat and champagne but the one drenched and drowned in perspiration and pain. How he's bled purple...not just lived gold. And oh how has be aspired to prevail. Through tearing rotator cuff to pushing his achillies back into place, getting back up like Rocky, hitting two free throws back before walking off on his own terms, when most would tear up in a wheelchair. Can you roll and rock with that? Kobe's been more than a peach with the orange basketball son. He's been everything between a hard place. And when he's finally put down like the doberman this Olympian athlete is...I say put both up there.

Number 8? Number 24? I don't care! Kobe Bryant will always be the one!

And done!

#SuperheroSeason DeMARCUS COUSINS Feature-THE PUNISHER

B.D.P.

By TIM DAVID HARVEY

'There's a man going round taking names. And he decides who to free and who to blame. Not everyone will be treated the same.' You know the rest...when the man comes around. Hear the trumpets, hear the cowbells. More! It's punishing isn't it? One batch! Two batch. Treating all his enemies like penny and dime. Critics, opponents? They're all change to a dozen. Number 15 adds up to more. 20 and 10. One batch. Two batch. You can't call that penny and dime. Word on the street is there's a new major player in the NBA. The shooter as independent as they come. Tracking teams to their home court and taking them out with military precision. With enough floor knowledge and statistical hardware to take out any basketball city. This game is about to explode. BANG! Maybe everyone in this league created him. Don't think there's a connection? Perhaps all of the Steph Curry 'Daredevils' of the association opened the door for big men like this. Don't get caught in his crossfire. Blood is being shed and he's given more than his fair share. The city of Sacramento needs him and he's going to take care of them. No matter who or what stands in his way. You hit them and they get back up...he hits them and they STAY down! Why is he doing this? Because everything else is a half measure. This man has what it takes to get the job done. This man is no coward. You know he's one good day away from being the best. Hero or anti-not he's still super this season. Still a Marvel. To be Frank, DeMarcus Cousins is The Punisher. The King of his castle in Sacto, California. Yep that's right Mr. Bernthal. This is for you Jon. Go get those crossed bones like you sold us that pen off Wall Street. In S.K. away black that headband may as well be a skull cap. He's the symbol of bringing the pain to a soft league. Ride and do or die. He's cocked and loaded. Locked, stocked and two smoking barrels...and that's just his arms. Watch DMC run and he inks more...

Now walk this way. DMC is the King when it comes to this rocks hard game. Like Balboa this Rocky's Creed is incredible. This kids a fighter. Best award nomination or not...word to Michael Jordan B. It's not about how hard you get hit. It's about how hard you get hit and GET back up. And this guy is tougher than basketball leather with the jacket like Run-TMC. Yep that's right we mean Tim Hardaway, Mitch Richmond and Chris Mullin. Now they were the Golden State of real Warriors. Well this DMC know how to raise hell like his game was born in the 90's too. Everyone else are just suckers in comparison. You can't rock this guy out the box when he leads the bounce. He rocks the house! Can you rock it like this? You be 'illin like a Dr. J 'touchdown'. It's like that and that's the way it is. Just wait until he develops a hook! Then it will all be over like the bridge for B.D.P. That's just how prolific Boogie's down low productions are. He's the one like KRS. Out for the win by any means necessary all X's and O's. Don't think of him as criminal minded. His philosphy is necessary. His business...poetry. Taking all that tries to beat him back to elementary. That's our word like we're his sponser. But trust us this is the sound of a beast. One that's on a higher level. Don't blame everything on the boogie these nights. He's bringing sunshine and good times back to the coast of California, making Sacramento a wonderland. He's the Earth, Wind and Fire of the Kings organisation...as powerful and destructive as the elements. Want any more reasons to put him on your fantasy? Blowing and burning it all down. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. Lay it down. He's the one true King in this town. Give him the crown in this Game of Thrones. The kingdom awaits as heads roll from opponents in opposition, all the way to the fans in the stands.

Relate to Cousins like your uncles son because this guy is family now. Distant kin of Charles Barkley but with more mound to his rebound. More force than fun. Chuck may have chucked a guy through a window after a bar fight but this guy battles for the glass with the best. You saw him stand up for himself against Kevin Durant. Even amongst the downpour of a thunder storm he wont back down from the best. But he still shows restraint...its a good job for Steven Adams that we all discovered that. This guys no punk...he's a pro...albeit a professional one. The best of the best to ever do it and make artwork in the paint that will last on the court canvas of the Hall of Fame's gallery know it. Know this King is the new Chris Webber of Sacramento going fourth, strong but smooth on the inside with some out too. Former teammate of C-Webb and Sacramento's General Manager Vlade Divac knows this. As does former opponent and Kings part owner Shaquille O'Neal (and you by George, best believe Coach Karl does too...no matter what everyone thinks. You, him, her!). And Boggie's moves definitly have help and inspiration from these two former playing, legendary Los Angeles Lakers centres. From Divac's flair for the all-round running the floor of the FIBA international game, to the pure petroleum power of the Diesel. Oh and both those big men were perfect point passes like they were off guards. Soon you wont just know D.C. as a 20 and 10 guy. You can take 5 too. One through five, through fifteen this is what this all round team needs too to bolster their raw but real roster. Featuring the legendary role playing likes of the 'Tuff Juice' defensive dogging of Caron Butler to the have points will travel, All-Star journeyman gunner Rudy Gay and the happy go shot lucky future of Seth Curry whose on the same coast as some big brother of his. And then of course we can't forget the alumni.

Country cousins isn't just familiar with King purple. His heart belongs to the Big Blue Nation. As this former Wildcat wildcard who clawed away with Coach Caps boys is a Kentucky king too. U.K. all day like England. He's united in the kingdom of men who made it over the walls of Rupp arena. Teammates and freshman to be alike. Legacy makers who now make the league like everyone from Washington Wizard John Wall and Phoenix Sun Eric Bledsoe. To Los Angeles Laker sophomore Julius Randle, to one of this years top rookies, Willie Cauley-Stein, drafted by...drum roll please...the Sacramento Kings. Forming a future force of a formidable, frontcourt frontline with his new Sacramento brother Cousins. But this perfect partnership isn't the dynamite, dynamic duo these young princes run on however. That would be the Kentucky court connection of DeMarcus' pick and the roll of pass first, prototype Point Guard Rajon Rondo, quarterbacking the now and later of this franchise. Making for quite the team and one of the leagues best double acts complete with matching headbands and varsity gear. But if you want to talk about a real Kentucky connection crossover and contemporary then look no futher to the line of joining hair above the New Orleans Pelicans franchise faces line of sight. Because in this 'things done changed', new era of notorious bigs the only one better than this bad boy is the Ant-Man Anthony Davis. Sure Wilt and Bill this isn't Chamberlain and Russell, but in this small ball, present tense league its still a revolution amongst all this Curry and other Kings and a far cry from the Shaq vs hack from every fouling out rotated player above 6, 10 age. The numbers speak for themselves. 27.3 points, 11.3 rebounds and 3.2 assists and countless nightly and career highs that brutalise the box score like he does interior defenders. Sure most brilliant big men mount up numbers that make their court vision 20 and 10, but in foresight just how great could 30 and 10 be? It would be the old engine of this running league, under the hood of some Fast and Furious nitrus. Flip the switch because this young mans rumble is changing the game. He's a knockout. Putting them all down. Now hows that for punishment in this NBA war zone...with a capital D.M.C.?! Click...clack...BANG!

WHEN LIFE GIVES YOU LEMON-A Tribute To Meadowlark Lemon

Meadows Land .

By TIM DAVID HARVEY

Dunkin' Donuts. New York City thats where you can find me when this Englishman writer in New York is on holiday, or as our U.S. neighbours call it 'vacay'. Call it tradition. Every time I go to my Eden M.S.G. to watch the Knicks play. After watching the team with no middle (maybe thats all changed now Porzingis) I grab a donut at the shop ajacent from Madison Square. Some Dunkin after some dunking. It has to be done. But last night Carmelo and the boys where at another Garden in Boston so why was I here? A kid passes the window bouncing an ABA blue and white basketball. He's got to be careful though as he tries to spin it on his finger...its got autographs on it from all members of the Harlem Globetrotters. Thats why! He's palming himself a piece of history...legacy.

Legend!

The oldest, best and most original basketball team...did we mention most fun? Icons thats can still bring the Worlds Most Famous Arena, The Garden down even when the New York Generals are playing and the Knickerbockers are not. Even when Tom Brady's uptown doing his thing and hundreds of orange and white jerseys downstairs from M.S.G. descend to where Penn Station will take them. The Globetrotters can still take the world by storm on earths biggest stage, just blocks away away from the electrical, entertainment core of the universe in Times Square, that in just a few days will have a million eyes in it watching the ball drop, as a billion watch on T.V.'s worldwide, as New York meets New Year. Every calender year these Globies from uptown N.Y.C. in Harlem tour more than the Rolling Stones, no matter how old the franchise gets. Celebrating 100 years in this game. Bringing another countless contest to yet another high-wire dunking, worldwide record shot, glitter bucket throwing, the court circus is in town, game winning close last night.

But tragically and coincidentally this morning we where awoken by the news thats its founding father, its first star has left us to join the hoop heavens.

The original Harlem Globetrotter, Meadowlark Lemon has died at 83 years of still ever young age.

"Better than M.J. and Kobe combined"-Chris Rock.

Did you see that? I can't believe my eyes! A hoops head see's a lot of things in Harlem-Bobbito Garcia, Kobe Bryant just turning up-but nothing like this! This kid is crazy! He's dribbling around what represents the whole of New York, like these nationals are paper towers. Not the Chrysler and Empire State Building skyscrapers they are supposed to represent. He's sliding on the floor, like grease was used to clean this court and he's staying there like the static in his shorts wont relent. He's still keeping the dribble though, as close to his chest as it is to his hand. Spinning around on the floor like he's breakdancing to a Run-DMC classic. It's like that and that's the way it is! But here's the hook, he rises, keeps control, spins some more, fakes more times than cosmetic surgery in Beverly Hills and flashes a genuine smile that is, like this game, what it's supposed to be all about...fun! Even the defenders can't help from having their cheeks break into smiles along with their ankles, as they are all left for dust. Some opting to mop up that greasy mess that should be back there down court, because right now they would make a better living cleaning and paving the floor for the greats. The rest of defence are now spectators, like the audience that's drove miles in their masses to witness this. The paint is this young mans red carpet now as the flashbulbs make camera moments...but...wait! He pulls up like people in their cars on the outside who can't get a seat. Here comes the shot as jaws drop, like eye-lids be damned refuse to. Blink and you'll miss it. The ball goes up. Rising like yeast for the bread! It's all beautiful like the rotation, now just wait for the butter. Then...wait! What!? SNAP! Suddenly, the ball pops back from mid-air right back in the opposite direction and right into this kids palms! What in God's great earth was THAT!? Call that a gooseneck?! This is some Houdini wizardry. Forget Magic! Everyone's shaking their heads and looking at the Mexican Wave almost, in-sync head disbelief to either side of them for an explanation. Only in Harlem right!? The guys still smiling as someone finally finds the words to ask, "Meadowlark! How do you do that?!" (From the Harlem Globetrotters article 'Harlem World' published in 2014).

When life gives you Lemon...he changes the game. And everybody that loves it. Personally as a basketball writer I have to thank Mr. Lemon for all his inspiration to me. Although I never had the pleasure of knowing him, or the honour of meeting him and although I dont want to lay claim to things like this in his passing, I have to thank Meadowlark for reaching out to me. Following this above article two years back he shared it with his followers, which hopefully means he read that above paragraph about him (so he knows what he means to a kid from a country where they dribble ball with their feet) and then he also started following me on Twitter. Although its only social media and something small it meant a lot and will always be appreciated. I tried to reach out for an interview but alas he was still busy at 80. The Global Ambassador (you see him bringing this beautiful game to the love of Parker's Paris) who taught Betty Ford how to dribble on the Oval Office carpet in the White House was probably schooling someone else. Retirement? Nah there was nothing senior about this citizen. Breaking ankles whilst most are replacing hips. Till death do them part? Nah bury Lemon with a red, white and blue basketball, this American hero and flagship Globetrotter will still be dribbling it all the way to the pearly gates (I mean this was a guy who shot his first milk carton basket at an onion sack propped up with a coat hanger...and then went on to play 16,000 games with the Globes). They say heaven is green...well it really is a playground now. With meadows of Lemon. All for this kid from Harlem who dribbled and trotted the globe until he changed both basketball...and the world. In fact forget a cliche...for his names sake he was more like Naismith. Forget changing the game...he re-created it. There's no M.J. No Kobe. No King without the Prince. On the throne as the most famous Globetrotter despite everyone from Nelson Mandela to Scooby Doo becoming one in his honour. Give this man a statue, series, or even a movie. Here's to Meadowlark Lemon. Hall Of Famer. Minister. The Clown Prince. The worlds most entertaining basketball player. THE Harlem Globetrotter.

Original...forever!

#TheKobeSeries I STILL BELIEVE IN KOBE BRYANT

Forever 24

By TIM DAVID HARVEY

Just because someone is broken down doesn't erase all the great things they've done...

I Still Believe In Kobe Bryant...

1996. Shades atop the bald M.J. like cut of the next greatness to his airness. A kid whose about to play in front of the Hollywood celebrity types who are no stranger to that type of sunglasses indoors look announces that straight out of high school he's about to take his LeBron James decision to the talents of the NBA. He looked too hot too handle. Too good to be true. Too cocky? Too much air in that aviator covered dome? Well the kid Kobe was only 18 and he was bound for greatness...albeit some mistakes too. Utah, the Salt of the Lake City for the Laker. Nothing but nitrogen and oxygen. Airball after airball until the birds called. Young Kob' couldn't hit much on his way to the postseason of a rookie year that seasoned him even as a young pro. He couldn't make music against the Jazz. Mailer daemon, failed to deliver against future teammate Karl 'Mailman' Malone. His best fade was away with his afro. But it wouldn't be long before leather met nylon and Kobe met the legend of Larry again and again, year after year, circling around again. Just like a ring. How it all changes...

2016. And in this New Year, Kobe will be resolute in his poetic, press conference announcement and the conclusion of his rocking chair retirement tour of his last 82 game NBA season. Arena to arena. Player to player. From fellow high schooler, now old school, still here and back home in Minnesota Kevin Garnett, to new kid on the Californian block D'Angelo Russell. From Madison Square Garden to the STAPLE of his one, true home. Heroes come and go but legends are forever. Muse to muse. Stephen Curry to LeBron James. All the tributes. All the testaments. All the devotion. All the dedications. All the crowds. All the cheers. All the long three balls just for show. And then again, 20 years later as the former 18 year old future of the franchise and league, pushing 38 and all he can do with the rock starts shooting at air once more. Face it father time is real. It's crazy how it all comes around. Like infants becoming seniors. The rise and fall either side of prime time. The circle of basketball life and a legends career. It's all too raw and all too real. But to the chef and the King watching, watch closely because one day it'll all be us too. Time just gets away from us...no matter how much true grit we have. It'll happen to the Spur sheriff Tim Duncan too...no matter how old he gets. Magic and the greatest ever to do it initialed M.J. knows that all too well. As does the icon of the logo Jerry West. You can only clutch at it for so long. One day all that's good must pass and come to an end. But in the air of all those missed shots tonight comes one that makes. And then another...and another...and another. Brick, swish, brick. Swish, swish, swish. Swish, Swish...SWISH.

I Still Believe In Kobe Bryant...

And then out of nowhere he gets more air and then takes flight like the vintage, still in warm ups slam dunking, champion child he once was. Jamming a dunk home. Rising against the Rockets. Even Dwight Howard had to give it up. There's nothing realer than reconciliation. The tributes keep flowing in. No wonder this superhero caught iron like Tony Stark. No rim like old Wizard M.J. at All Star. The air is still there. The Kobe Nike's still just doing it with those old cleat, sneaker steps. Even the kid D'Angelo thinks his mentor could play for another two years with hops like that. Even if that could have been how he ended up putting that shoulder out. You always knew he'd rise again. I mean this is a guy that tore his Achilles and then tried to push it back in place, before getting back up, making two free throws and walking off court...no wheelchair. All heart...no doubt to that dedication. Even that negative is a career highlight like a maverick 62 in three quarters. Just let another former foe like Dwight tell it, as legend Reggie Miller clutches at the perfect quotable soundbite; "there's still venom in the Mamba"! Word to Vino!

I Still Believe In Kobe Bryant...

You can't deny in this last run. Everything this man has done. The partnership with Shaq. The dynasty that will always last. The gassed up refuel with Gasol. The reunion and redemption with the Zen Master. The duos with teammates that he helped and they helped alike. The greatest role player to ever do it Derek Fisher. One of the most, all round talented players to ever put the ball on the floor and play this game, no matter what Lamar Odom (stay up, stay well). And now the new small-ball revolution, big-three of the continuing Lake Show, Julius Randle, Jordan Clarkson and the number one, number 24 should look after, this years second pick, Russell. And talking of numbers. Number 8? Number 24? Which do you retire? Both! Come on where talking about a guy who scored 81 points in a single game. Second only to Wilt's 100! Put that up! A Laker legend as big as Chamberlain, Kareem, Minneapolis' Mikan, or even Shaq. Let alone the logo or the Magic playing card. A legend of the NBA and its history as a whole. The closest thing to the G.O.A.T., Michael Jordan. Hero or villain. Dark Knight or Darth Vader it doesn't matter. In these Star Wars this guy was a Phantom Menace, even at times with the operatic mask. A basketball Jedi that still isn't done. The force is still awakening.

I Still Believe In Kobe Bryant...

Dear Basketball. He penned you one last love letter, signed, sealed and delivered to his season swansong. This is how much you mean to him. He gave you his all. Body and soul. That's true love and if you can't see it, you can read it in this players tribute in The Players Tribune. From tube socks to game winning shots. Little Italy to the Great Western Forum. Jellybeans to red grapes of vino wine. He fell in love with you and we fell in love with him. Sole to soul. Hustle to heart. Pounding. Grinding. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1...gone. Goodbye. Love always. And Dear Kobe. I wrote letters to you too. No Stan, just a fan. I told you after the first injury that crippled your career that we all knew you'd come back. I told the world that would listen that I wouldn't bet against you. I wrote stories and tributes to you. So much so I created a series. The only one to feature more than number 24, was one less in 23 for 'The Jordan Series'. More than a hash-tag trend it was my dedication to the end. As a matter of fact, as humble as it is. As small as it is. No matter how far it all goes or how big this all gets. The first article I ever had published for SLAM was about you. I was barely 25 and I called it 'Thirtysomething' and now as one myself with a half decades of experience and more articles for more outlets and plenty more dedications wrote later I owe my career to you. Your gift. Your inspiration. Your muse. It's simple as that, but how do I find the right words to thank you? The influence to what you've done to my life is ingrained like your palm on the seams of the basketball. And for that to this day all I can say is thank you once again. And once again, to this day, your last one in this game may be coming, but not yet. It's far from over. There's still so much more to come. Still so many games to play. Still so many articles to write. Still so much more. Still.

I Still Believe In Kobe Bryant...

Do you?

#TheKobeSeries

LARRY NANCE JR Feature-LIKE FATHER, LIKE DUNK

NBA Fam.

By TIM DAVID HARVEY

Looking up to the glow that is his father, junior can't help but be in awe as his eyes attempt to scale the height of the television he see's before him. The V.H.S. is rewound to an NBA Classic and Larry Nance senior is taking the human highlight film of Dominique Wilkins, the good doctor of Julius Erving and the first ever NBA Slam Dunk contest by windmill storm. So much so whether you're someone as big as Michael Jordan or even Kobe Bryant you can't help but take inspiration from the first NBA player in history to win this now storied and epic contest back in 1984. Especially if you're Larry Nance Jr, the former NBA players son watching on tape delay as a young boy at a contest more than a decade and change in the making before he was born, becoming the new proudest thing Larry Nance had done. Rising like the Phoenix he was, Nance reduced the competition of the likes of Showtime Laker Michael Cooper, Portland Trail Blazer, Clyde 'The Glyde' Drexler, Dr. J and Nique to ashes even when he was still in his warm ups (we see your inspiration Kobe). No sweat, his combo of one, armed, outstretched windmills and tomahawks flying had the whole basketball world in a spin, years before the wheel turned and a lack of originality ruined the most creative of contests when it came to the freewheeling All-Star weekend. 'The High-Ayatolla of Slamola' deserved every 50, before the voice of the 'Got Talent' like panel came in to former champion, years after play. Before all that he was American's above the rim idol. Bar the free and high sock stance of the fun and entertaining ABA contest, the three time All-Star and Cavalier, whose 16 and 8 career average was great enough to have his number 22 raised higher than his hops to the Cleveland rafters, made his weekend in 1984 his living, lasting legacy of legend. One that still continues to this day. In more ways than one...or being the first and foremost.

The legendary and legacy line of father and son, family ties in this league is as storied as the NBA or the Walton's (Bill and Luke to be family tree traceable) themselves. We all know about the Barry's, the Dell and Steph Curry's (not to mention brother Seth and the rest of the ball playing family that like most court holding families extends to the womens league and probably one day, postgame superstar Riley Curry). His teammate Klay Thompson and his dad Mychael of the Lakers and the fact that Los Angeles Clippers head Doc Rivers coaches his son Austin like this chapter was written in the stars by the basketball gods themselves. But there's much more than meets the fathers eyes when it comes to father time. I mean did you even forget about Kobe's pops, Joe 'Jellybean' Bryant? Or speaking of that, George Karl's son Coby who also had some underrated time with the Lakers that should have birthed more? There's the Bibby's...Henry and Mike. Horace Grant's brother Harvey and his sons Jerami and Jerian Grant. Norm and Brian Cook. Tito Horford and Al Horford, Ed Manning and Danny Manning. And even the first Basketball superstar George Mikan and his son Larry. Or more recently John and David Stockton. And that isn't even the half of it. We haven't even got to the players named after players. Ron and Ronnie Brewer who where both Bulls in Chicago. Larry Drew and Larry Drew II. Rich and Richard Dumas. Or how about even the slight change of LeRoy Ellis and LeRon Ellis? Mike Dunleavy Sr and junior. Walter Szczerbiak and Wally Szczerbiak and Glenn Robinson Jr and Glenn Robinson the third. And more big guns today. Patrick Ewing and Patrick Ewing Jr. Glen Rice and his Junior. Tim Hardaway. And of course the legend of Larry.

Nance Jr rocking the Lakers number 7 like the great Lamar Odom is a swingman like no other, who I guarantee you'll see this mid-February in Toronto for the All-Star weekend, one way or another the city needs his heat. Sure this late first rounder could be a steal like the similarly slept on sophomore Jordan Clarkson and he could join the Julius Randle and D'Angelo Russell, young, hopeful future of the Lake Show in the rookie/sophomore duel. His energy, hustle and what he brings to the game on both sides of the floor, like rebounding, not to mention his genes can afford and assimilate that. He's already the off the pine, microwave time, hustle and lay-up line flow, spark  plug the Lakers have sorely missed since guys like Von Wafer, Shannon Brown, Devin Ebanks and Trevor Ariza. And thats just the tip of a very cold iceberg. But aside from that this kid has to be a dead cert for the Slam Dunk contest and not just because of his pops, who is now wearing a Laker cap in support like he never thought he would after all that 80's blow-out Showtime, Sun heartache. But because of that preseason dunk against the champion Golden State Warriors that caught the cool and crisp Hawaii air and so much more so that it may even be the dunk of the year...and it wasn't even officially recorded this season. The elevation, the pause for breath in the middle of air, the hammer, the nail in the games coffin and then the Jordan-esque shrug. I don't know that could be it. But then again did you catch the one he caught against the Pistons going full throttle to the hole with aggression, but the air-time, cruise control he displayed as he butterfly floated to the net before he stung like an Ali bee. It almost looked angelic in those Sunday Whites. Or how about everything else to come? Just like his alley-oop, lay-up against Orlando, it's all magic. Larry Springer has more in his sneaker step...better call Jerry! Now you know he can enter the ring and knock everyone else out, round for round in the ultimate bell-ringing contest with the tricks of his, 'now you see me, now you're a poster trade'. Like Larry Jr said, "it'd be fun". Like Larry Senior says of his boy; "he's playing hard", adding that his son at the young age of 22 already understands the game better than he did. Now Nance wants to take it one step further with his family legacy and have little Larry continue his dunking legend in the Slam contest, if not this year but one day. He'll be watching with pride, like son, like father, but this time from courtside whilst everyone else will be watching on T.V. Like father, like dunk! “He was going to put me in a wheelchair, roll me out under the basket and slam dunk on top of me,” senior told Lakers.com about junior. Father time is about to get a real facial.