KAREEM ABDUL-JABBAR Feature-SALUTE TO KAREEM (SIDE B)

Sky Captain Hook.

By TIM DAVID HARVEY

Rock between the fingertips and palm of his hand, this young man stands in a circle that seems like a spotlight of circling pressure, in a capacity arena that feels like the millions that are tuning in on their television sets around the nation and globe. In this moment this kid Lew Alcindor feels like an Olympian as he moves with the athletic grace somewhere between the bounty of ballet and the beauty of knowing kung-fu. He holds the rock for a moment slightly stretched to the side of him, before bringing it in to his body...slowly, carefully in one perfect pirouette of a pivot. Then he steps back, dancing with his spot, striding forward and in one creatively, crafted crane moment, elevates his arm to the outstretched stature that even the record books can't reach. Making proud and perfect flamingos out of all the goose-necks before his wrist snaps in one downward, almost deflated motion that sort of tells the opposition; "never mind"! As the ball flies high towards its one goal, the world record and more than just another point proved. They check the tape and its off the charts and when it lands...it's his personal best perfection. It's the gold! The top of the podium. It almost looks like a shot putt, but this shot is put down as a sky-hook and this young Lew Alcindor is the name at the top of it all; Kareem Abdul-Jabbar.

Floating like a butterfly and stinging the net like a bee, this ball pollinates the nylon like it was a beautiful flower in basketball bloom. And it all comes from the hands of the greatest, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. The most famous name change in sports and entertainment since the artist formerly known as Cassius Clay became some Louisville Slugger who went by the red corner name of Muhammed Ali. Young Lew may have changed his name to the mighty Kareem, but one thing number 33 didn't change in reflection was his tried and tested signature shot that no one could block. If it ain't broke, just hone it! Make it work like shot clockwork. Until after all the seconds are out you're the highest score with your arcade like move. One that leaves you leading all the second placers first and foremost in history and legacy of the books of legends. No, no Mike, Kobe, Shaq or Wilt. Even 'The Mailman' of Karl Malone couldn't deliver as many points as the storied Abdul-Jabbar did in the history of the National Basketball Association. And it's all thanks to that shot. Hook, sky-line and net sinker. But that wasn't the only thing this hoops grandmaster and godfather of the hardwood possessed. There where the devastating dunks, the brutal blocks battling, the bountiful rebounds rallied and of course the flawless post-up game that lead to all of this. All of this that lead this perfect prototype of a player in the centre position to be the best big-man in not only the history of the Wilt Chamberlain and Shaquille O'Neal dominated Los Angeles Lakers (not to forget the Minneapolis master of George Mikan, the NBA's first superstar), but the NBA as a Hakeem Olajuwon, David Robinson, Patrick Ewing and of course Boston Celtics ring bearer Bill Russell whole. Let alone the greatest all-round player on a Laker team that featured the Big Game of James Worthy and the Magic of Earvin Johnson and one of history and legacies all-time best like Laker luminaries from the classic logo of Jerry West to the modern day icon of Kobe Bryant and all the LeBron's, Jordan's, Bird's and Oscar winners.

Before the 7 foot 2, 225 pound, 68 year old number one pick in the '69 draft with a 20 year career of 6 rings, 6 MVPs and 19 All-Star selections racked up all those 38,387 points (good luck Steph Curry and your shot) Kareem Abdul-Jabbar was rolling in the Bucks with Milwaukee and the Big O of triple-double dream Oscar Robertson. Yet even, before all that Lew Alcindor was making immortal basketball history way before the NBA even called his name. When most kids in high school were waiting to be saved by the bell, Lew was playing 'till the final buzzer making power plays for Power Memorial and leading them to a huge 71 game winning streak during the Harlem renaissance in New York City. Then from the Big Apple to the Hollywood sands, Alcindor made the transition to college hoops in Los Angeles, becoming a Bruin with UCLA and uniting with classic coach and hardwood forefather John Wooden for a perfect partnership and coach player combo that outside of Hollywood was the hoops alternative of a Scorsese and De Niro director and actor. Yeah we're talking to you! Breaking every UCLA record, Lew was barely scrapping the surface of his basketball career whilst scratching his cornea in what later on in his playing days would resort to his goggle wearing look being iconic as his balding afro and beard. In L.A. before L.A. a young L.A. converted to Islam before changing his name, trained with martial arts legend Bruce Lee, played in the 'Game Of The Century' and even got the art of the dunk outlawed due to his dominance. Standing next to Wooden with three NCAA titles under the drawstring of his warm ups and strings of nylon around his neck was this young man ready for the NBA?

With the first pick in the 1969 draft you where damn right! After winning a coin toss tip against the Phoenix Suns the sophomore Milwaukee franchise was just the first round ticket, despite the legendary court circus act; the Harlem Globetrotters offering Lew a million bucks to travel the world with them. The hometown hero would also have to disappoint the New York Nets who thought they had secured his services with the ABA drafts first pick. Even if number 33 did have an afro he wasn't going to roll his socks up for anything trying to scale higher than the original and one, true basketball league. Or more aptly the "flesh" bidding war that he saw as so degrading to all parties involved he was prepared to literally turn down millions. With defensive legend and Boston Celtics lord of the 11 rings; Bill Russell sharing a last retirement cigar with Red the only thing standing in Alcindor's way was the rivalry of the most, 100 point scoring dominant ever; Wilt Chamberlain. But before number 33 would replace the lucky 13 in purple and gold he replaced him in the post as the NBA's centre of attention. Winning Rookie Of The Year honours off 28.8 points and 14.5 rebounds per game, before teaming up with Oscar in his second season to win the biggest award in basketball. The day after he became an NBA champion, Lew Alcindor became Kareem Abdul-Jabbar and the rest was National Basketball Association and Los Angeles Lakers history. The iconography of the goggles came next, put on by two broken hands as after injury a trade waved goodbye to the Wisconsin wonder who hit the coast for the Californian sun. Adding a purple heart to his gold standard career, rewriting the script with a casting call from Hollywood. Kareem Abdul-Jabbar was a Laker...it was Showtime without the Apollo!

But Hollywood was bowled over and before Magic and the Boston Bird saved the game and brought all the Nicholson actors into the superstar seats, Captain Kareem was the era director of this epic, with the slick Pat Riley running the screenplay. Battling all sorts of big-men from Bill Walton to John Salley and all sorts of eye erosion problems. It wasn't until the dawn of the Showtime L.A. and blue collar Boston era of the 80's that Cap and the Lake Show would win and pull real Magic out the hat when they selected the everlasting enthusiasm and smile of Earvin Johnson from the 1979 draft. After winning the season opener, Kareem shot and shouted a young Magic down after number 32 embraced 33 like they just won game 7 of the last day on the basketball calender. But by the end of the season when this Rookie Point Guard showed that the only man that could possibly replace Jabbar at center was the 6,9 pass first magician himself, Kareem would have bear hugged the next Lakers star himself if there wasn't a planes distance from the injured big and Philadelphia. In the storied Lakers and Celtics rivalry of the ages, Kareem was avenging Wilt Chamberlain's finals heartbreak to the ring hands of Bill Russell's Celtics. They could put balloons in the rafters now thanks to a team of greats like fellow google sporting James Worthy, the silk of Jaamal Wilkes, future millennium champion A.C. Green, future general manager Mitch Kupchack, future coach of today Byron Scott and the dynamic duo of dynamic duos. The inside and outside, one-two punch of Magic and Kareem, took over that of West and Wilt and nothing from the legendary legacy of the Los Angeles Lakers or the NBA as a whole since has topped this. Not even the second most dominant player of all-time Shaq and the second Jordan G.O.A.T. Kobe...this dynamite duo comes in second place too. Nothing could top the vision of Johnson's passing that looked to the sky of Jabbar's hook. And when a 40 year old Kareem bulked up and practiced yoga to muscle up and lean with a younger, post big-man dominating career the show just went on like Hollywood Lakerland's version of Shakespeare. Back to back and that again. Jack wouldn't give up his courtside chair marked like a directors one for nothing...not even the next big budget movie. Even the Pulitzer of legendary sportswriter Jim Murray saw a new prize everytime his typewriter slid back the moment Chick Hearn's jiggling words closed the refrigerator door.

When the retirement chair came rocking and hoop heavens door came knocking, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar left the game with all-time leading totals of 38,387 points, 15,837 field goals and 57,446 minutes played (only to be perished by Parish). Averaging a legendary line of 24.6 points,11.2 rebounds and 2.5 blocks a game, en route to the top 50, his number 33 up in rafters on each coast, the corridors of the Hall of Fame, the header in the history books and finally a statue outside STAPLES. A fond farewell to this gentle giant between the Lakers and their love to hate them Celtic rivals saw all players participating rocking the goggles and attempting a sky-hook, a move that nobody like this man can duplicate. It belongs in a basketball museum next to the exhibits of Jordan's fade-away and Allen Iverson's crossover like these holy grail, signature moves it's a pioneer play. Following the last streak of sky to be hooked, Kareem has done anything but retired. The man who has shown that even at seven feet and two nickels change he is agile enough to go toe-to-toe with Bruce Lee, fought him in the movie 'Game Of Death' and sent his serious self up in the hilarious 'Airplane' spoof that saw his star stock soar. Surely he couldn't be anymore than serious?! Well, even if a Shirley Temple was his drink of choice, this actor knew how to lighten the heart in the Summer, after giving his soul and sole to the season. Following his playing days retirement the history books engraver has proved to be a wonderful writer beyond his amazing first-name self-titled autobiography. Cap has capped off many basketball books, including children's ones with an off court message off the playbook. The regular columnist for leading, world newsstand famous magazine of the day 'Time' has gone beyond being a cover star to writing critical columns of issues of inspiration and influence too. Yet his most intriguing creative venture comes this year and we're not just talking about the HBO Abdul-Jabbar documentary. Kareem is set to look into legendary writer Arthur Conan Doyle's magnify glass to write the next pipe dream for Sherlock Holmes fans with an original idea about penning a story about the worlds most famous detectives brother 'Mycroft Holmes'. Now how's that for the most anticipated book of the year outside of Harper Lee's 'To Kill A Mockingbird' sequel 'Go Set A Watchmen'? That's elementary my dears. This old Cap is still involved in basketball operations however and the two time NBA champion as an assistant coach is now tutoring the next line of Laker big men in the central position of this franchises legendary legacy like he tried to do with stars Andrew Bynum and Dwight Howard. Now its sophomore Julius Randle, technically speaking in his rookie season after injury and troubled but talented defensive presence in the block Roy Hibbert, after the Lakers couldn't buy a free agent big-man after passing on so many in the draft for the small-ball future of D'Angelo Russell. A Ewing, Mourning and Mutombo following Georgetown Hoya who could go from role player to star again thanks to the mentoring of the master that when it comes to years as a Laker even Shaq and Wilt can't reach and touch. You want to really grasp the ceiling of number 33's classic court contributions? Then in this city of stars-with even 16 circling the centre of the court-you can't just hook the billboards bearing his name in the rafters. You have to reach for the sky...

#LakerLegendSeries

#TheKobeSeries JOE 'JELLYBEAN' BRYANT Feature-THE ITALIAN JOB

Bean Around The World.

By TIM DAVID HARVEY.

Like father, like Bean. This is a league full of extraordinary gentlemen...and the fathers that raised them. The Curry's. The Ewing's. The Hardaway's. So many like the Barry's. The Jon's, Rick's and Brent's. The Dell's. The Seth and Steph's...and of course the Riley's. Who one day could have a life in the WNBA, the way she looks like her dad and the same way this family shoots from three. But what about the Bryant's? Kobe's got a couple of girls himself, but the casual fans among us may forget about his true parentage. Like one of the greatest the rap game has ever seen, Nas having the hip-hop jazz roots of his father, Olu Dara, one of this games greatest came from another hardwood classic. The world may be his now, but one day Kobe 'Bean' Bryant was watching from the sidelines (complete with court sweeper like rapper Common back in Chicago for the Bulls) as his father Joe Bryant, know to most as 'Jellybean' was popping with his sweet hops and shot. Now, hey Joe! How about a taste?

Kobe used to be on his dads back all the time...literally. Or so the 'Muse' says, in Kobe's latest career documentary for 'Showtime' which is really the curtain call review of quite the champion and competitor. Kobe tell us straight up to the camera that when his father would come home with a training table list of injuries and ailments and more cramps than 80's style after a game, he and his siblings would walk up and down their daddy's back to work that stuff out. Who needs Gary Vitti hey? Not when you've got what then was a young Kobe's favorite nightly ritual. Watching his hero come home after a night fighting for his dream and looking up to him with pride and awe. Young Kob' was used to doing whatever it took to help his dad and his hoops career. Philadelphia 76er born and raised, it would be in Europe however that Kobe would spend most of his childhood days. Chilling out, maxing, relaxing all cool. Shooting some bball outside of school. Until this Fresh Prince of L.A.'s life got flipped-turned upside down. But still, Kobe wouldn't go live with his auntie and uncle in Bel-Air, or West Philly? Instead when the plane landed and he came out, it was Europe where his new throne would belong. An Italian job and wherever else his fathers great game and time would take him. 'Hang on lad...I've got an idea'. If the NBA wasn't going to give pops his props, he was going to scour the earth to find it. Taking this game overseas and revolutionizing and doing what all the young Jennings and WNBA stars he coached are doing today. Adding more stamps and approval to his passport and scouting report. Basketball without borders...only blowing more than the doors off.

And we all know what that European exposure and soccer skill did to Kobe and his game. From the savvy way he see's the floor, to the lost in translation way he play-call communicates on it. Like basketball's equivalent of baseball's facial-gesture and grimace, sign-language play-calling. Even if he doesn't have as much of a nose and ear for it these days now the likes of Gasol and Vujacic are gone. Maybe it's time to learn Chinese with Lin? A little bit of culture is good for anyone...even if at the beginning it does seem like too much of a permanent vacation and not just a world tour that the likes of Aersomith would rock and roll with. Still, before Bean senior took the seed of his junior overseas he gave NBA basketball a little bit of his own culture on these high seas of National Basketball. At 6, 9 and a star at Philly's John Bartram high and La Salle University, the Golden State Warriors drafted Joe Bryant in 1975 when Kobe was barely three years old with the 14th pick in the first round. Still after Golden State's lottery ball came up big, they switched tickets with Philadelphia as young Joe himself was given a Sixer cap on his way to career averages of 14.8 points 4.7 rebounds and 1.9 assists capped off per contest. After hitting the big stage, Bryant was going home...and boy did it feel so good. To play in front of his family and friends for four years alongside some of the games greatest like Doug Collins, George McGinnis and some doctor called Julius. It was just the prescription for J.B and on Ering's unit he was the right tonic for an operation that took it all the way to the lifeline of the NBA Finals, where they eventually flat lined against the Portland Trail Blazers 4 game to 2.

Still this Joe was one hell of a smoothly skilled player, running and dunking the floor with American abandon. Especially for his tweening Power Forward and Center position. When he headed to the West Coast-like his own son did on his 1996 draft day, over 20 years later when the Charlotte Hornets stupidly shipped him to some team in Hollywood-Bryant senior played for the Lakers neighbors Clippers. Still, he'd never see Los Angeles as a player, because this was back when the Clips where in San Diego and probably having their nightly sports bulletins read by Champ Kind of the 'Anchorman' Channel 4 New Team or something to that effect. After a "whammy" of a play-by-play each night, Bryant ended up flying high with the Rockets for a few years in Houston, before he'd really take flight. To Europe that is. Seven seasons in Italy made Bryant senior fluent in the European game and Bryant junior fluent in the culture. Just listen to the way he pronounces the names of the places he'd grow up in across the Italian A1 and A2 leagues. Playing for AMG Sebastiani Rieti, Viola Reggio Calabria,, Pistoia, and Reggio Emilia a decade after his NBA draft, from 1984 to 1991 this guy was a star that brought the peach to the vines of Europe as a young Vino was fermenting. If you thought this was just about collecting the zeroes on the end of a cheque, than the numbers of two 53 point games will read you differently. The 60 year old would play into his fifties as smooth as the day he rocked the young mans beard and fro. From a quick bonjour in France (for FC Mulhouse Basket) to a series of stints in the ABA that his early, Sixer game seem catered for (with the Boston Frenzy). Coaching is now this dads staple as he one day may head back to the NBA he's still connected to by being married to Pam Cox (sister of former player Chubby (Joe's nephew John Cox IV also plays pro in France)). In fact he's been in STAPLES with Los Angeles sister team the Sparks of the WNBA two times. Leading them to a 25 and 9 record (before a certain 80's legend called Michael Cooper ran the show), as well as coaching his resume in the ABA and now Japan (you're all familiar with the Tokyo Apache). Where he is the current coach of the Rizing Fukuoka. No wonder Kobe keeps coming back to Asia each Summer. He'll always have the inspiration of his elder statesman as well as his own pride and awe...even in his own winding down father time. This folks, is how number 22 and 23 influenced 24. Because without Jelly, there's no Bean.

#TheKobeSeries

LUKE WALTON & BILL WALTON Feature-THE WALTONS

Father Time

By TIM DAVID HARVEY

Parquet floor erupts in celebration like those infamous splintered and cracked dead-spots on court that are now being pounded into submission by many a plimsoll and work shoe. These soles belonging to the souls to the sold out Boston Garden that are rushing to the arenas floor. This can only be a sign of one thing...another Celtic championship. It must be the golden era of the 80's. A time and tide of titles that if it wasn't for the Magic of the Lakers would have clearly flown the way of the old Irish's Bird from French lick every year. Now on this day in 1986, a year after falling to the purple and gold like avenged Forum balloons dropping to a lights out aftermath arena of a Wilt beating Russell led Celtics of decades back, the Boston boys are back in the rafters of the real Garden of basketball. They and Bird not paying the Lakers revenge just yet, but soaring over the Houston Rockets team that caused them so many problems with the twin towers of Ralph Sampson and some young dreamer called Hakeem. Six parts of a seven game series was needed for the C's to overcome H-town and maybe more than just the Larry legends of Kevin McHale and the late, great Dennis Johnson. In overcoming Houston's problematic post pair they needed something a little bigger. The 'Sixth Man Of That Year', Bill Walton who overcame more than just some strokes in the paint to rise above it all to glory. For what was riding on and against him made that season possibly the best year of Walton's playing career. Still with his red, Scalabrinie, Celtic leprechaun hair soaked in the same champagne or sweat his jersey was, he made his way through the shaking microphones and hands to find some people that meant more when it came to sharing this special moment of glory. He had to get to the locker room. He had to share this moment with his family and his young son staring up at him, beaming at his hero. A kid called Luke.

Luke Walton's father was a lot better than you think LeBron generation. The purists know. Post big-man age you know about your Wilt's, your Russell's. Your Kareem's and Shaq's. Even your Ewing's, Robinson's and Olaujawon's. Still amongst all these trees its hard to see the real forest of formidable foes. One in particular sporting the lumberjack shirt and blue collar jeans and Springsteen boots ready to chop wood. Bandana wrapped around the long hair that the soul of Marvin Gaye wouldn't judge. What's going on you ask? One of the greatest centres the National Basketball Association has ever seen! A man they called a hippy, but was really the hip to hoops hop. A guy that bridged the iconic fashion and passion play between the Knicks' Walt 'Clyde' Frazier's pimp game and Phil Jackson's Zen one. The man in the middle that dunked and blocked with a force that could shatter the glass he cleaned the opposite end to how much he shaved. A number one draft pick that was a Clipper before that franchise ever made it to Los Angeles. But before San Diego and even the Trailblazing Portland team that drafted him their was the Los Angeles times of UCLA. Times like these where this bold Bruin was a three time college player of the year, making John Wooden's side a powerhouse to the tune of two, perfect 30 and zip, net cutting, championship seasons. Then as the devout Grateful Dead fan and 'Worlds Tallest Deadhead', honour roll member took his band posters down from his dorm and put up the vinyl on the road, this man dropped the needle on a Hall Of Fame career. Even though his PDX beginnings where marred by a career crippling sick note, scrub laundry list of injuries for the ever ill-fated Blazers that kept him at bay like San Francisco. Still a warrior, rising from the cast concrete in the city of roses this man became a Portland legend down the trail like Clyde Drexler. Greg Oden take note! A superstar before he played a game in this league, a suit and tie for the shirt and board shorts guy may have prevented a few more, but an MVP block and rebound leading championship season would help raise his number 32 to NBA ceilings like NCAA ones. Outstanding in his Oregon opening, multiple foot injuries may have prevented him from getting his in the G.O.A.T. door, but one of the best B.I.G's still got to close his final chapter with another bookending for the association's most storied side. Leaving this game with his own footnote in the history books of being the only player to win the big three honours of season MVP, Sixth Man of the Year and Finals MVP. Throw it down big man...throw it down!

Little Luke couldn't be prouder. Growing up watching his pop play, whilst listening to his dads old records. Only to then become a man himself, tattooing Grateful Dead, skeleton arms holding orange and leather seams to represent his basketball brotherhood with Adam, Chris and Nathan, whilst inking a deal to draft him into the association of National Basketball himself. Although the current Golden State Warriors assistant coach who brings brilliant basketball I.Q. and experience (some with the Lakers D-League affiliate D-Fenders) to that job description at 34 is a little too young to have already retired for years, ever since swapping his Lakers champagne and trophies for Cavalier wine and gold. I guess injuries are as common as Teddy, presidential, fatherhood middle names in the Walton's household. Its all familiar like two championships each in the family trophy cabinet that put them in the exclusive, most successful championship company of the Barry family and the first father and son duo in the NBA to win multiple chips. And I bet you thought two Gasol's in the All-Star game was awesome. Named after old man William Walton's former Portland Trail Blazers teammate and friend Maurice Lucas, Luke grew up in California's San Diego, before making it to the University Of Arizona for a real gown graduating, capped off year of academics and textbook hoops. Averaging nice numbers across the board in points, rebounds, assists, steals and blocks, Luke was a steal when he was taken with the 32nd pick in the second round of the draft. A long way from his father times pole position, but still a drive to downtown L.A. for the Lakers team his dad once appealed to playing for before Red's Celtic green snapped and signed him up. Although a Small Forward and not the big block and dunk shy 7 footer his Walton senior was, Theodore junior was a dominant defender and perfect passer that even underrated dishing big man Shaq didn't need to assist...just like Kobe. This 6, 8, 235 pounds of Small Forward, role playing prototype got his rings and proved to be a great, young replacement for one of the Lakers best role players and champions of all time in off-ball genius, opponent wrestler Rick Fox. Switching with Deaven George for fifth Beatle duties in the billboard, Hall of Fame year of Shaq, Kobe and the Glove and Mailman of Gary Payton and Karl Malone.

Parquet felt like something else under the soles of Luke Walton's sneakers as he walked off the Gardens famous floor in a Finals over 20 years since his dad stepped off his to meet him head held high. Head down for Luke this just didn't feel right as ticker tape fell around him. Maybe it felt off to walk off like this because it wasn't the original basketball Eden of the Boston Garden that bloomed under his fathers feet before it was mowed down by a wrecking ball. Or maybe it was more like the fact that walking off a Finals floor just never feels right when its off in defeat. Its just how it is and how surreal it gets when you're a Laker and your dad was a Celtic. Its the equivalent of someone bringing the finest cut of steak to a vegan dinner party. It makes for one hell of a conversation over dessert. Still as this game was in Hearn's refrigerator, but on the wrong jello jiggling temperature, down in defeat Walton needed to change the pace of his walk. Just like Kobe did in his own Forum fall balloon moment. Inflated with motivation the following year, it was all Finals Magic like Earvin for surviving Shaq era Lakers, Kobe and Walton as they rung the changes of full circle champions. Still in beating Orlando for O'Brien, it just wasn't the same for the Lakers (although in todays hindsight, beating Dwight Howard must be sweet) like when the Celtics they wanted to play beat the Rockets and not their 80's Showtime incarnation in Bill Walton's time. 365 days and seven gruelling games of a repeating NBA Finals later would make everything right however. Through blood, sweat and baskets. Every position burned and every possession earned, the real, script flipping, storybook ending was rewrote in these David and Goliath, Ali and Frazier, Superman and Batman's latest legacy making chapter of legend. As Kobe ran down the STAPLE of a Hollywood, basketball red carpet on his home floor he cradled the ball in his arm and reached for the stars that couldn't touch him. Behind him though was a man that made all this matter. One of the key cogs, off the bench splinters in this role playing machine made of wood and championship gold plaque. Walton's son was a lot better than you think Larry generation. Clapping and celebrating a capped off championship that he helped champagne certify. Still in this moment of man in the mirror, like father, like son, career reflection, Luke had to get to the press box of commentators. He had to share this moment with his family and his old man staring up at him, beaming at him proudly. A man called Bill. The Walton's story complete. Goodnight Bill. Goodnight Luke.

#Forever24

This photo says it all! Down but not out! Struggle builds character! One young, future star out for a year and not one, but two of the greatest players of all time injured and possibly done for good and you say your all about the game when you laugh & ridicule on here? If you want to beat us...then beat us straight up, 100%, full strength. Fair and square. That's true competition. Real sport! Otherwise this is not a game. One of these guys comes from a place that's like a second home. The other practically started and gave me a career in writing...not just basketball writing. Oh wait that's right we haven't made it yet...but we don't give up! Ever! Rookie year or last one. Stand beside us or behind us! It ain't over until we give up! Laker fans aren't supposed to be really fans right? First or worst still here supporting! This isn't my job...its my passion! TIM DAVID HARVEY.

COURTSIDE COLUMN-Throwback Court

The Purple & Golden Years.

"Motherf###### Ass####"! That's how Steve Nash sums up his Los Angeles Laker backcourt mate Kobe Bryant as reported by top Sports Illustrated writer Chris Ballard of 'The Beautiful Game' in his latest Mamba Long Form. Truer words have never been spoken right?! What on paper is the worlds worst insult is actually a crazy compliment to one of the greatest basketball players of all time and still one of the best in the Association of National Basketball. That's right Kevin and LeBron...and that's right you guessed it! Kobe couldn't love Steve's comment any more, because just like Bryant replied, Nash is an ass#### too! Real recognises real and a motherf##### knows another motherf##### when he sees one. Originally this column was reserved for the instant vintage like a Saadiq C.D. How this was the league and maybe histories served best backcourt ever on paper. The best Point since Magic and the best player since Mike in the same backcourt, suited up in purple and gold for the same time. Just imagine what it could have been like when they had the best international player since Dirk and the most dominant big man since Shaq! You saw the 'Sports Illustrated Kids' superhero Justice League comic-book cover. Now its just Flash and the Batman. Now Pau Gasol's Green Lantern and Dwight Howard's Superman are gone...and lets not begin to get into the Cyborg of Metta World Peace.

In the dusk of justice (I promise that was another nixed Chris Paul swipe...honest) we miss this assembling of characters for one of the greatest teams ever...again on the dry-erase. Having Andrew Bynum, Lamar Odom and Derek Fisher was actually championship certified better though. You don't have to believe it! The history books wrote it. Still with Kobe and Nash's oldest and greatest backcourt you better believe they still have something. Especially with the Fantastic Four new academy of heroes to marvel at in Nick Young, Xavier Henry, Wesley Johnson and Jordan Hill. Along with the All-Star veteran and worldwide insanity famous big names of Carlos Boozer and Jeremy Lin respectively. Plus the post future of Wildcat big man Julius Randle from Kentucky makes this team look a hell of a lot better than what is read in critical ink. Especially with former Showtime fastbreak finisher Byron Scott running show. Clipper superstar Blake Griffin is right. In this battle for Los Angeles, the Lakers are still the alpha team with the history behind them and the whole world in front of them. Originally we said this column was going to be like a eulogy. An epitaph article of apprehensive appreciation to two legends and modern day idols about to lace them up one last time together before they hang them up. Still its not over yet for this throwback court. Not with a hardwood classic show on a preseason in Denver that was truly an exhibition. It's not over yet!

Just look at that photo for example. The smiles, the jokes. The chemistry, the camaraderie. I know! What a bunch of A-holes right?! That knowing glance like that knowing smile between Kobe Bryant and Michael Jordan as they passed each other like this in the 2002 All-Star game where Kobe owned his hometown Philadelphia as a dunk missing Jordan told him, "don't be taking over the whole game now", smiling. To which Bryant beaming even more at his idol, winked, "don't talk me to death" (don't you just love it when they mic All-Star games?)! This look between Steve and Kobe that they know something that we don't. They've still got it, despite injury or father time! Nerve damage or Achillies be damned. Not only are these two of the associations greatest competitors, playing together instead of dunking and dribbling over and around each other. They are two of the most dedicated. Kobe Bryant tore his Achillies and then tried to excruciatingly push it back into place before hitting what where two mere consolation free throws before walking off court to show they really meant something. This guy, not injuries decides when he's done. Then if you thought that was painful Nash's extensive nerve damage, still playing professionaly at 40 was like a root canal for the whole body. You cant see it, but boy if you where in his sneakers you would feel it. Yet he's still playing all to honour a contract that the Lakers could have simply put to amnesty for the Canadian international. Yet they wont. Now that's dedication. Isn't that right Dwight? Sure the afro and floppy hair may be gone but the heart and souls still there as they run and run all the armchair fans social media hate out of trend. You may have seen our last articles on Kobe and Steve Nash 'The Winter Soldier' with pictures of them walking back into the tunnel lie they are done, but no. They are not. I still believe in Kobe Bryant and I still believe on Steve Nash. If only they had more Denzel time these men on fire would be one of the greatest Laker duos like Magic and Kareem, the fire and ice of Baylor and West and of course Shaq and Kobe. Still with Bryant saying he's got more years in him then the 'S' ends of his Mamba 'Ringsss' t-shirt and Nash even contemplating staying on another year there's more Hall Of Fame moments to come before the corridor calls. Yes these guys are crazy and maybe these ass##### will have even more time together. After all they deserve each other. I know the rest of the league right? It's a motherf#####! TIM DAVID HARVEY

WILT CHAMBERLAIN Feature-MR. 100

Stilt The Man.

By TIM DAVID HARVEY

Look up there! They say its lonely at the top and for one of Hollywood's biggest stars, figuratively and literally it appeared that way behind the locker room scenes. You see that big house, atop the very peak of the Hollywood Hills beyond the rest of Los Angeles' California coast. Looking like Avenger Iron Man's Stark mansion and something 'Knight Rider' David Hasslehoff owned himself when he wasn't on a 'babe watch', patrolling Venice Beach as a lifeguard in a 90's hit T.V. show that now make those orange floats, Hollywood hoarder desired famous. Still the Hoff had nothing on the Big Dipper who rose higher than any mansion foundation. This was his lair for the ladies first and the man who used to pull down rebounds and points in what today could only be described as video game numbers, used to rack up the statistics when it came to after game dates, shall we say...and believe me that's putting it mildly. More surprising than the fact this giant, imposing talent-that some argue as more dominant than Shaq and even more greatest of all time than Michael Jordan (believe me this isn't as sacrilegious as it sounds)-never fouled out in his career (that's a lot of minutes), is that the crazy numbers of female partners he laid claim to didn't put him in an early grave in the pre-Magic Johnson warning era. Still an abhorrent and an uncalled for, unfair racist punch to the jaw that landed this mans teeth in the roof of his mouth and lead, as it does to circulatory problems probably did, as he died of a heart attack tragically decades later. Still before we call manslaughter on any player or dental awareness on your own brushing habits this is another way of saying this late great legends legacy was somewhat marred by loneliness and ignorance. Still, right now everyone is about to learn just how 100% this gentle giant was and how lucky the National Basketball Association was to have number 13.

This ladies, gentlemen and basketball purists is Wilt Chamberlain. This boys and girls is a man that scored 100 points...in a single game. That's right a century and that many years later-despite the high school and street claims-and a record of this mammoth magnitude will never be quite outdone like this. Not even the 81 of fellow purple and gold Kobe Bryant could match this on his best week and another pivotal Laker legend at the centre position, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar may have followed him and recorded the most points in NBA history, but the man that is 20 retired jerseys above the Stilt could never double up on the Dip. You all know that most teams of five men and even more substitutes sometimes don't make it to 100 and sometimes that's even a game winning box score, but one player? Well no one player was like Wilt and on this day the Phila wearing 76er, who took the Warriors from San Francisco to his home, gave the New York Knicks a real big three of digits. It's crazy to think that this man "only" made 36 of 63 from the field. Still his 28 for 32 from the line was truly something else instead for a man whose Achilles heel was free throws like fellow Laker superman Troy's, Shaquille O'Neal and Dwight Howard. The young man that held up a scrawled down '100' on an A4 piece of note paper was a record book engraver however. He was a regular 50 and 25 threat. That's right 50 points and 25 rebounds...on average. That makes todays 20 and 10 threats of the post big man age look like Luc Longley numbers. No wonder the Goliath Wilt, despite his claims that no one loved him, is arguably considered the greatest Los Angeles Laker centre of all-time. If not the National Basketball Associations best player. Michael Jordan may be the prototype, new millennium model of basketball silhouette like his Jumpman Nike logo, or Chamberlain's former famer teammate Jerry West, but in a big mans game, Wilt is the most dominant ever. Even more than the big fella Shaq or the hook of Kareem in a Laker legacy lineage of big centres of legend that began in Minneapolis with George Mikan and could have ended recentely with Andrew Bynum or Dwight Howards torch bearing. Shaq's diesel would run out against the dipper in a match-up and Stilt Chamberlain could even leave the goggles and glasses of Mikan and Kareem fogged for good.

No wonder this original Fresh Prince who ended up in Bel-Air, after being born and raised in Philadelphia (and yes the playground is where he spent most of his days), like Will Smith (your parents will understand...cant believe I'm saying that) was "WOW" inspiring amazing enough to tour with the Harlem Globetrotters. Trekking across his stardom like a supernova, stealing everyone's heart like a purse, without the ball needing to be on a string. Between all the buckets of glitter and purple and gold this man had as many ups and downs as the number of times he put the ball up and through the basket. It almost looked like an instant replay. But watch this! As soon as a real big three of Wilt, and the fire and ice of Jerry West and Elgin Baylor assembled and formed like Voltron along with Gail Goodrich in Los Angeles, a ring brought everything full circle. Chamberlain was finally champion in California, destroying New York basketball again and in the bright lights and big screen city of Los Angeles' Hollywood this player could finally play. Promiscuity and points rained when they said it never did in Southern California. It looked like nothing could stop Wilt in Lakerland. Even the Magic's and Kobe's of today are just Worthy Laker legends in big point making comparison. Still there was a David to this Goliath and his name was Bill. Bill Russell of the Boston Celtics. A big man rivalry that was even more heated then his reluctant Laker torch passing one with Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. If Michael Jordan is the greatest player of all-time and Wilt Chamberlain the most dominant ever, then Bill Russell is the most successful. Just check the old Boston Garden air vent units for the number of times Red Auerbach lit one of those iconic victory cigars. For awhile when finger jewellery-less Wilt played the lord of 11 rings Bill it was all smoke. So much so that Russell ran out of digits and just has all those rings scooped in the palms of hoops safest hands. Russell was everything Chamberlain was not. Popular, loved..the man! Some thought the underappreciated and misunderstood Wilt was offensive in more ways than one. Whereas Bill remains the greatest defensive player this game has ever seen.

These great rivals and even better friends represented the Laker/Celtic storied rivalry like two big, opposing symbols and they practically started its rich NBA legend and history. Before Magic and Bird where bringing the golden era to basketball, making all other sports green with envy, Russell's Celtics where Wilt and his Lakers bogey team. The battle of Los Angeles between Kobe Bryant and Paul Pierce was a million miles and years from this. Wilt dominated by making every point he could to anyone who would listen, whilst Bill ruled down his long career road without saying a word. Even though silence was truly golden even against Lakers yellow, Wilt deserved his purple heart and jersey against the traditional, green-collar work of Boston. Bill recognized him as his biggest and best competitor and besides Batman needs Superman, like Stallone needs Schwarzenegger and Springsteen needs Dylan. Like the sun needs the rain. Like the Celtics need the Lakers. Like the NBA needs them. Just like Magic and Bird. There was even an offer for this man to fight Muhammed Ali, but this man already had his Joe Frazier in Russell and no matter how many times he hit with a knockout dunk, the belt would usually end up around the Celtics trophy cabinet. Still Wilt got his, with two fingers to the league or any critic that just saw statistics without substance. Or saw him as second place like today some think compared to M.J., or Shaq. Like they did to Russell, or Kareem. Or Larry O'Brien. We already told you this man was more than the 20,000 claimed sexual partners (that would be on average, one a day for 54.8, exhaustingly straight years...or half that, if he...well you know). Or the even more unbelievable 30 and 20 averages over 9 seasons. Part and parcel to why number 13 was that many times an All-Star or up there in the rafters with all those banners he made Bill and Boston work so hard for. This Hollywood Conan star was truly a Barbarian, no O'Brien, even being big and bold enough to make it in business and volleyball of all things. Still when he spiked the peach it was something else. All other professionals looked like drunks next to the master. So all kneel to the man that had to dip through doorways. He took his bow at the Hall, but the only thing more tragic for the top of the top 50, who died all too young at 63 alone is that he's not today as readily remembered for who he truly was. Gentle, giant and above all...great!

ADRIAN DANTLEY Feature REACH & TEACH

The Changing Of The Guard.

By TIM DAVID HARVEY


7.00am. A early morning, fall Winter mist outside your frosting window matches the steam whistling from your kettle on the inside. You pour two cups of coffee...you and your husband are going to need them today. He switches the half piece of buttered toast from his mouth to his hand not holding a suitcase as he kisses you on the cheek and tells you he loves you whilst putting on the other half of his suit jacket and heading towards the door for another day at the office. Before he leaves he gives you a knowing wink and directs your attention towards the 'Captain America' and 'Frozen' lunch-boxes. You smile warmly. He's got the school run tomorrow. Then after holding your warm cup of java and savouring the steam and wake up and smell the coffee feeling of morning, your peace is interrupted by what seems like a hurricane of horses galloping down the stairs. Your two kids hug your legs with an excitement that begs for another snow day. 'Not today' you think as you make sure their scarves are tied and their hats are on properly as they giggle. You hand them their lunch with a kiss as you all head for the door, only for you to come back and reach for the keys on the countertop. Leaving home you rush walk against the wind, cold, clock and what already seems like too tired legs for two young people. You're tired yourself but then as you reach the crossing right ahead of school a long wingspan and big palm signaling stop wakes you up. It's the tallest man you've seen all week. Wait a minute...

Wait just one minute. You recognise this crossing guard. The distracting reflectors or the biting cold balaclava don't fool you. That's former All-Star and one of the greatest NBA players and scorers of all-time Adrian Dantley. Directing the traffic he used to drive through down the lane as a basketball God. But why? Surely he doesn't need to?! Still the ever hard working A.D. wants to just do something and give back to his community. As nice as he was as a coach for Carmelo Anthony and the Denver Nuggets that direction didn't end up on the same path that everyone wanted. Besides the league doesn't pay its vets health insurance. Saving wayward kids from getting run over like he used to save loose balls from going out of bounds on a morning and afternoon shift for around 40 bucks an hour does. Eastern Middle School in Silver Spring, Md's intersection is now the daily domain of a man who used to own 94 by 50 feet of hardwood court nightly. Now this guy truly is something. A great man of both the local and NBA community. A Hall Of Famer, 30 point average scoring machine and two time leading champ the likes of Iverson, Kobe and Kevin Durant can only relate to. A purists, pure scoring favourite 'The Teacher' was taking people to school before directing people to it in a basketball education. Entering the L in the late 70's and playing during that next decades Magic/Bird, Lakers/Celtics golden era A.D. represents one of the last of truly the best. You know like when music sounded so Motown great before all that next generation R&B kind of watered it down somewhat. Like classic woodgrain and leather, American muscle cars before things in the automobile industry became a little too safe and plastic clunky. A.D. represents the good old days. An original like the Adidas he wore. No wonder the three stripes have made him part of their 'Top Ten' signature. Just don't ask for his autograph while he's trying to do his current job. Besides have you ever seen someone try and get in his way as he cut through traffic playing in the NBA?

 B.C. Before the God M.J. there was A.D. A 6, 5, S.F./S.G. out of D.C. with a A plus bball I.Q. Forget about a basketball jones when Delano Dantley was in the zone. He was smoking as he put out the opposition like a cigarette butt in an afterthought ashtray. Those legendary Buffalo Braves selected the Notre Dame college star with the 6th pick '76 draft, who became a Rookie Of The Year and Montreal Olympics Gold medal winner on his way to a 6 time All-Star career. One that would garner him the Oscar Robertson trophy to his cabinet and those career book line averages of around 24 points, 5 rebounds and 3 assists are like the mighty O too. The consensus All-American in college is second all time in fighting Irish scoring and first in charity stripe buckets earned and paid off. Him and his Dame also upset and ended John Wooden and UCLA's legendary and storied 88 game winning streak. Bruising the Bruins and big man Bill Walton whilst showing future fellow 80's Laker Jaamal Wilkes who was really as smooth as silk. The leading scorer of Notre Dame also paced the gold winning Team U.S.A. in Canada,leading all scorers when he wasn't even a rookie of the National Basketball Association. When the NBA did start signing his cheques he braved out some time with Buffalo where the future Los Angeles Clippers had a big three herd of R.O.Y.'s in a half decade. So much so that the team probably thought they where justified in shipping him to Indianapolis where he kept up the scoring pace in the city of fast cars and now fast buckets clutched before Reggie Miller had his time in town. Still after a Michael Jordan number of games, A.D. was on the road again like Willie Nelson and we aren't talking about a 7 day trip across country. Forget what would be the Clippers, Adrian Dantley was in California playing for the Los Angeles Lakers with THE Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, pouring and scoring when they said it never rained in Southern California.

 In the pre-Magic kingdom, showtime era that featured wing wonders like Wilkes and current Head Coach Byron Scott, many forget like Bob McAdoo that another prolific power playing great suited up for the storied purple and gold in his and the Lakers rich and vibrant history. Perhaps it was because it wouldn't be long before he was soon off again for the then purple of the Utah Jazz. An All-Star journeyman being shipped around as trade bait for his fourth team in as many years? Maybe that's why he dropped one of the numbers on his 44 jersey. But like Jordan wearing the 45 he wasn't there to play games with you, but take aims at you. As the Jazz associated game of NBA basketball before the hip-hop of Jay-Z had an instrumental Utah leader playing and singing from the baseline. Like a saxophone ringing through the Salt Lake City night (doesn't sound the same like New Orleans does it?) the league really heard from Dantley as he led the NBA in scoring twice as he spent the lions share of his career proudly playing with the Jazz. At his professional peak, Adrian was a scoring mole and all six of his All-Star spots where during his seven years in Nevada. Not even torn ligaments in his wrist could stop the net snapping of A.D. Still a change of motor saw him join the 'Bad Boy' assembly line for the Detroit Pistons where he became more than just another cog in the Isiah Thomas machine. His former teammate and NBA role playing, champion great John Salley told us last month, "teach' really helped me in the way I dealt with people and being the best professional I could possibly be". Salley now known as an active vegan promoter also had a seed planted by his 'teacher' mentor after the professionaly and physically in shape Dantley once told him straight after a hard practice, "hows that cheeseburger treating you"? After the former Jazz player made music playing points in Motown be became a Maverick donning Dallas green like city and colour. Becoming a Texas quick draw with his high percentage shot for his last two career years before a 10 day stint with the green of Milwaukee for a quick buck and stint. Blowing a whistle on his playing career this guy now moonlights as a referee, stopping players in their tracks once again. The mid-range game of this legend scored him a place in the hall and a retirement in the rafters but the man who earned his living from the free throw line (sharing an attempts record with another scoring icon Wilt Chamberlain) now maintains one from the crossing line. From courtside to roadside, this changing of the guard will always keep this legend the same thing, hard-working, professional and a valued member of the community. Don't you know by now? Everything runs through A.D. Stop, look, listen!