Hall of Fame footnote: Of air balls, handshakes and that smile

Would it be worth the effort?

Should I walk down the hall and see if I might add some little touch to the story?

Here’s the background...

It was May 5, 1997, and I was a columnist in Utah.

On that particular night, the heavily favored Jazz dispatched the Lakers 98-93 in Salt Lake City.

The victory concluded a 4-1 second-round playoff series breeze for the Jazz, who had won the West with a 64-18 record.

There was nothing particularly shocking about the win that evening, nor about the series result.

For the team I was covering, bigger battles lay ahead.

But heck, you always want to toss something a bit special into a column — something readers would never know on their own — and there had been kind of an odd twist near the finish to this game.

A KID, just 18 years old and with no prior NBA heroics to suggest anything special, had come off the bench for L.A., and been set up for two critical open jumpers in the final minute.

He shot two air balls.

So, yeah...

That was unusual enough to add a hint of spice to the story.

Besides, interviewing the Jazz after a game was like owning a tape that would never stop rewinding.

Karl Malone held court, talked forever and analyzed everything up to (and perhaps including) world politics.

There were a couple of interesting sidekick characters, worth a chat if they’d had some actual role in the night’s result.

And there was John Stockton, who never spoke to the media if he could possibly avoid it — and even then, I can’t recall Stock ever saying something worth printing.

Not then.

Meanwhile, the Lakers dressing room was as quiet as you’d expect, and even the large L.A. press contingent had more or less drifted away.

I wandered around for a second, getting oriented to the various lockers to see who might be available, and finally saw my target — sitting all alone.

“Hate to bother you at a tough time,” I said, extending my hand. “Steve Cameron, from the Daily Herald down in Utah Valley.”

The handshake was returned, with a welcoming smile.

“Hey,” he said. “I’m Kobe.”

MY FIRST reaction was surprise.

This young man was still trying to establish himself as a legitimate NBA player – he’d averaged just 7.6 points in 15.5 minutes during that full rookie season — and in a win-or-go-home playoff situation, he hadn’t even drawn iron on two makeable jumpers.

So I mentioned his willingness to smile.

“I think I’ve just been grinning out of embarrassment,” Kobe said. “I wasn’t really expecting to be in that spot.

“I feel badly for letting everyone down when I got that opportunity. Hopefully, I’ll make some of those eventually — or else I won’t be in the league very long.”

Needless to say, history gave us the answer on that.

I feel privileged, now — in these unbelievably tragic circumstances — to have managed more than a head-nodding conversation with Kobe Bryant while he was still just 18 and waiting for all that talent to emerge.

He suggested then, not as an excuse but simply as an observation, that those missed jump shots were likely an issue of strength.

Or lack of it, since he was a rail-thin teenager dropped straight into the NBA.

Clearly, he took care of that.

I’m so glad, especially now, that I spent some time with him right at the beginning.

Through the years, I wound up having plenty of conversations with Kobe, in different cities and circumstances — but rarely without a crowd around him.

And never again after a couple of air balls.

Email: scameron@cdapress.com

Steve Cameron’s “Cheap Seats” columns for The Press appear on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. He also contributes the “Zags Tracker” package on Gonzaga basketball each Tuesday.

Steve’s various tales from several decades in sports — “Moments, Memories and Madness” — run on Sundays.