The NBA Finals start tonight and I am one of the few, the proud that drastically prefers professional basketball to college. In all the various subplots that are floating around the teams and players, I think that the one most interesting is Kobe Bryant and his legacy. And when you are a 6′ 6″ guard there is only one person that matters when you are compared to history and all-time greatness.

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I believe that in his 13th year in the league, Kobe has finally mastered most of the tools and tricks that made Jordan the preeminent player in league history with a few exceptions.

First, I don’t care whether you hate him as a person, a player, or as a media icon – if you watch the Lakers play, you have to – must – acknowledge that he is a stone cold assassin in the fourth quarter. In fact, this aspect of his game was probably the first thing to develop and it was evident since the first championship with Shaq. At the time I thought (and probably still do) that Kobe could only keep himself in check for three quarters while the Big Aristotle grabbed 25 rebounds and scored 40 points.

Then in the fourth quarter, his ego would burst its dam and it became the Kobe show. I can remember against the Sixers after nearly every shot he jacked up, I was screaming at him for wasting the shot clock and forcing it without even so much as a pass to another teammate. Of course, he’d make these shots. It doesn’t change the fact that they were bad shots, at least for every other player in the league, but after five consecutive possessions of this exact sequence I was left silent as if I was witnessing something.

In truth, it was the first time I had seen something like this since …

In truth, when I was watching Jordan heat up (exhibit 1: the flu game), it was like a growing ball of excitement in my chest because you knew it was happening. Something historic. With every possession I got annoyed when Jordan would pass the ball away to his teammates to run the offense. Of course, they’d simply just give it back and clear out. With Kobe, I was a bit blindsided. I was still applying the rules and expectations of the normal NBA on him and only when I saw it out of the blue seemingly in the NBA finals did I realize he had It. It with capital “I”.

That switch from average to amazing. It’s rare to see, but a short list of players had It, such as Barry Sanders or Montana. I believe that the whole “choke/cluth” concept is overrated. There are legitimate instances of someone being so nervous or overwhelmed that they are unable to perform and thusly choke. Perfect example is Doug Gottlieb shooting free throws or Nick Anderson’s mental breakdown in the Finals against the Rockets. Other times, people are labeled chokers rather arbitrarily – like the Buffalo Bills. Play those games ten times and the juggernaut that was the Dallas Cowboys wins nine out of ten in both Superbowls.

So for a basketball player to decide that every shot they are taking is going in – with a hand in their face and after three quarters of play – is not clutch, its more than that. There are plenty of guys that can ice the game on the line – those guys are clutch. Players that get the ball and everyone watching knows they are going to score that is transcendent. Kobe has that.

Before you think I’m building an altar to Kobe let me tell you why he will never be Michael Jordan.

To Kobe’s credit, he takes pride in his defense – team and (especially) individual. Very few superstars in the Association have any interest in playing defense. It’s hard, physical work that tires you out on the “money” end of the court. He’s got good feet, he’s disciplined in the scheme, and quick hands. I’ve seen him shut down the opposing player many times, but the difference is that Jordan made defensive plays all over the court. The third to last play of his Chicago days saw him creep up on the blind side of Karl Malone to strip the ball which resulted in his iconic shot with his shooting hand held high (of course, Malone true to the spirit of the game flopped, cried, and threatened the referee with a scowl).

Or when Old Jordan pinned Ron Mercer’s shot as a Washington Wizard. Jordan had just turned it over and sprinted up the court with that youthful vigor of days past. Most guys would try to make a play and either bail out for fear of looking bad or just foul. And most of those guys are 25 years old, not 38. Instead, Jordan followed him up and just grabbed the ball off the backboard as if it were a rebound. I was watching the game with my boy, Johnnie, and we both jumped out of our seats with the same expletive.

That is not Kobe Bryant.

The other thing and, I believe most important, is their psyche within the leadership role and team dynamic. Most kids that grew up watching Jordan play didn’t really understand what was going on when he took over. Most thought that it was a silent, individual decision on Jordan’s part that the rest of his team sucked and it was time for Wennington and Buechler to get out of the way. It was time to let the big dog eat and have all eyes firmly focused on me, me, me. No, not exactly.

First, Jordan was the heart and soul of those teams. Those moments when he entered another stratosphere and ripped out the still beating heart of the other team were earned. Earned through his relentless practices, coaching, fire, and determination. Jordan’s teams looked to their leader with a “my big brother is badder than yours” type attitude and were eager to let him out of the gate. Jordan could take over because he had the credibility among his team, not just as the greatest individual talent, because there was no one on the team that gave as much, cared as much as, or made every single person better (and richer) than Jordan.

Everyone has heard the stories about the golf or card games with the Dream Team and the same fire is there. Now all of these kids that watched him while they were growing up, just start ignoring the game plan or defense to make it a personal highlight reel. That’s not the essence of Michael Jordan. He dominated because he could and because the onus was put on him by the rest of the team and Phil Jackson. And it was only and always to win.

As a result of this, other superstars of the day were afraid of him. Literally, afraid of saying something that would elevate his ferocity. I call this the Hulk Effect – the angrier he gets the worse the beating for your team and the personal embarrassment of spawning twenty-five Nike posters from a single game. I remember an interview on ESPN Radio with Reggie Miller just after he retired. They asked him about his legendary games with Jordan and he responded as he always did as a player, “Michael Jordan this or Michael that.” Then he caught himself in mid-interview and said with a newfound sense of defiance, “Wait, I can call him Mike, its not like I’m playing him anymore and he’ll get angry.” Literally. And this from Reggie Miller, the biggest thorn in your side, briar in your sandal, under your skin type player.

If Jordan’s presence was a tangible aura that filled the court, then Kobe on the other hand has a soft candle glow. He is the best player in the league (sorry, Lebron). And I believe that he’s figured out how to make his team better … after only 13 years of playing and the constant ego massaging from the greatest NBA coach ever and resident Zen master.

Most teams and coaches probably believe that if they can challenge Kobe’s manhood or pride, then he’ll play angry. And angry for Kobe means rebellious, juvenile gunslinger. He starts talking to everyone but his teammates and it becomes a 1v5 game. Why no one has tried to make it personal with Kobe over a seven game series amazes me. Take what the Wizards did to Lebron this year and do it to Kobe (exhibit 2 – Raja Bell). I guarantee he’ll inadvertently throw his entire team under the bus after the first loss and the petulance and posturing will return.

The other thing about Kobe is that his persona of assassin and league’s best player has a very calculated and carefully crafted feel to it. No player prior to Jordan had his competitive reputation or unique, individual aura in the game and outside of it. Now every superstar player strives so hard to emulate it. That is what I enjoyed so much about pre-Jordan NBA, the greats had their own feel and image. Bird. Magic. Isaiah. Nique. All incredible, but all different.

The whole Black Mamba thing strikes me as artificial and deliberately asserted to create a persona to mimic what Jordan had naturally. I believe that from his earliest days in the league Kobe was thinking in terms of meticulously creating this image of himself as an honorific to Jordan in the hopes that he could join him or supplant him. Instead the reality of it is that Kobe is a over-indulged, creepy, spoiled rich kid that happens to be really, really good at basketball.

He’s a great player, one of the top 10 to ever play, in my estimation … but he’s not and never will be His Airness. Or even Magic or Bird for that matter.

By the way, this wouldn’t be a Jordan column if I didn’t mention Pippin.

Pippin.

Done and done.