It was the final night of the 2005-2006 NBA regular season.
The Western Conference standings were a total logjam. A single win or loss tonight could completely rewrite the playoff bracket.
The San Antonio Spurs sat on the Iron Throne at number one, boasting a 62-19 record.
The Phoenix Suns held the second seed at 54-27, lighting up the league with their "Seven Seconds or Less" run-and-gun offense.
The Denver Nuggets, champions of the Northwest Division and led by Carmelo Anthony's young squad, were third with a 47-34 record.
The Dallas Mavericks, led by the big German, sat at fourth with an impressive 60-31 record.
(Note: Under NBA rules at the time, division winners were guaranteed a top-four seed. That's why the Suns and Nuggets were ranked higher than the Mavericks despite Dallas having a better record. This rule wasn't scrapped until 2015.)
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The Los Angeles Clippers were 46-36, sitting in sixth place.
The Los Angeles Lakers were 45-36, sitting in seventh.
The two L.A. teams were neck and neck.
The Clippers had already finished their season, holding a razor-thin lead over their hallway rivals.
If the Lakers won tonight, they would own the tiebreaker and leapfrog the Clippers to take the sixth seed. That was the golden ticket: it meant avoiding the powerhouse Phoenix Suns in the first round and facing the relatively inexperienced Denver Nuggets instead.
It would make the path to the second round a whole lot smoother.
But for the Spurs, keeping the Lakers stuck at seventh was the priority.
Gregg Popovich didn't want the Lakers gaining any momentum. Even though this Lakers roster was considered weak, the playoffs were a superstar's playground.
Nobody wanted to face the reigning scoring champion in a seven-game series if they could help it. Especially considering Kobe Bryant's history of absolutely torching the Spurs during the three-peat era.
Knowing Popovich, he wanted to keep his boot on the Lakers' neck.
So, for both sides, this game was a must-win.
---
The season finale had the entire country watching.
Staples Center was heating up. An hour before tip-off, the arena was already ninety percent full.
Fans were waving signs everywhere.
"BEAT SPURS!"
"LET'S GO LAKERS!"
"KOBE MVP!"
Up in the broadcast booth, the ESPN crew was breaking down the matchup. For a game this big, they brought out the A-team.
"It is absolute chaos in the standings tonight," Mike Breen said, his voice buzzing with excitement. "The Lakers have a chance to hand-pick their playoff opponent, but they have to go through the Spurs to do it."
"And Gregg Popovich isn't running a charity," Mark Jackson added. "The Spurs are going to play to win. They don't want to see Kobe in the playoffs any sooner than they have to."
---
Lakers Locker Room.
Phil Jackson was giving his final instructions. He held the whiteboard, his marker squeaking as he drew up the adjustments.
"Tony Parker..." The Zen Master paused. "He's fast. We don't have a point guard on the roster who can stay in front of him... Kobe, that's on you. Force him baseline."
Phil hesitated for a split second, looking Kobe dead in the eye.
It was a pre-game shakeup.
Phil was benching the slow-footed veteran Aaron McKie. Kobe was shifting to play point guard to lock up the "French Sports Car," Tony Parker.
The Lakers were going big.
Kobe nodded.
The 2006 version of Tony Parker was a nightmare for guards. Blinding speed, a deadly teardrop floater, and a spin move that could break ankles. Aside from Kobe, who was First Team All-Defense, nobody on this Lakers squad had a prayer of keeping up with him.
"Manu..." Phil's marker hovered over the Argentine's name.
"Link, you're starting tonight. You've got Manu."
Link's heart skipped a beat.
Starting in the biggest game of the season? Against Manu Ginobili?
"Manu isn't pure speed, but his rhythm is tricky. Just delay him, stay attached. The bigs will be there to help you at the rim."
"Got it," Link nodded firmly.
"Finally," Phil took a breath, his gaze turning serious. "Tim Duncan."
He tapped the center of the board.
"Everything starts with him. High post playmaking, low post isolation, pick and rolls... We don't have a magic bullet for Tim. We just have to wear him down."
Lamar Odom and Andrew Bynum exchanged a heavy look. They knew they were in for a long night.
"The Spurs are on the second night of a back-to-back. Use that. Push the pace. Run them off the floor. If you have the shot, take it."
Phil didn't say anything else. The clock on the wall hit 7:30 PM.
Time to work.
Kobe was the first to stand up.
There was no shouting, no Hollywood speech. He just looked around the room, his voice calm and terrifyingly focused.
"Let's go."
"Get the win."
"And then," Kobe paused, "we go to Denver."
The locker room doors swung open.
Outside in the tunnel, the noise was a physical force, rolling over them like a wave. Link, walking in the middle of the pack, could feel the floor vibrating beneath his sneakers.
As they emerged from the tunnel, the volume peaked.
Nineteen thousand fans stood up in unison, a sea of purple and gold crashing against the stands.
"LET'S GO LAKERS!!" The chant was deafening.
Spotlights swept across center court.
On the other side, the Spurs were already lined up by the visitor's bench. Duncan was stretching, head down. Parker and Ginobili were whispering to each other.
Popovich and Phil Jackson locked eyes across the court. Old rivals. No waves, no smiles. They would do their talking on the hardwood.
The referee walked to the center circle, ball in hand.
The starters stripped off their warmups and stepped onto the court.
Lakers: Kobe Bryant, Link, Sasha Vujacic, Lamar Odom, Andrew Bynum.
Spurs: Tony Parker, Manu Ginobili, Bruce Bowen, Tim Duncan, Nazr Mohammed.
Link looked at the slender frame of Ginobili.
This was before Popovich moved him to the permanent sixth-man role, and way before the bald spot took over. He still had a full head of long, flowing hair.
The Argentine was one of the most creative players of the century. His game was wild, improvised, and totally at odds with Popovich's rigid system—yet somehow, he made the Spurs infinitely more dangerous.
Not far away, Manu seemed to notice Link staring. He shot the rookie a friendly, relaxed smile.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to STAPLES Center!"
The PA announcer's booming voice snapped Link back to reality.
As the lineups flashed on the giant screen, a ripple of shock and murmurs went through the crowd.
"Wait a second! We are seeing a massive adjustment in the Lakers' starting five!"
At the broadcast table, Mike Breen's voice went up an octave.
"Kobe Bryant is listed at the one! He is going head-to-head with Tony Parker!"
The camera immediately cut to Phil Jackson on the sideline. The Zen Master stood with his arms crossed, his face unreadable.
"Wow! Phil pulls a lineup we haven't seen all year for the biggest game of the season!" Breen shouted.
Mark Jackson jumped in, talking fast.
"Kobe at point, Link starting at the two... This is an aggressive lineup! But they are putting the entire world on Kobe's shoulders tonight—running the offense and stopping the point of attack."
"It's a bold move, no doubt about it," Breen analyzed. "Tony Parker is too fast for Aaron McKie. Phil decided rather than let Parker live in the paint, he's going to cut off the head of the snake with Kobe."
"But at what cost?" Mark Jackson asked. "Kobe already has to carry the scoring load. Now he has to chase Parker around screens all night?"
"It's a gamble," Breen concluded. "Phil Jackson is betting that Kobe can neutralize Parker on both ends, and betting that Link's shooting can punish the Spurs if they try to pack the paint."
"It's crazy," Mark Jackson paused. "But then again, it's Kobe Bryant. You never bet against that man's will to win."
The commentary only added fuel to the fire in the arena. The fans' faces were a mix of shock, nerves, and anticipation.
At center court, Link took a deep breath and stomped his feet on the hardwood.
Starting. Against Manu Ginobili.
He knew this was a test from Phil. Manu was the X-factor of the Spurs dynasty. Guarding him required 100% mental focus.
Kobe walked calmly to the circle, locking eyes with Tony Parker. The Frenchman tilted his head slightly, offering a faint, cool smile.
Tim Duncan patted Bynum on the back. The young Lakers center looked a little jittery.
The ref, holding the dark orange leather ball that would decide their fate, stepped between them.
Bynum and Duncan crouched, coils tightening, eyes locked on the ref's hand.
The roaring ocean of the Staples Center fell silent.
Tension. Expectation. Determination.
It all hung heavy in the air.
The shot clock reset.
Tweeeet!
The sharp whistle cut through the silence.
The referee tossed the ball up, spinning into the lights.
Game on.