At this point, Kobe Bryant could rise for a 50-foot fade-away jumper off the wrong foot and, if he releases within the last second of the game, I'm thinking it's good.
You would, too.
Admit it.
I mean, after his buzzer-beater madness these past few weeks, Kobe could shoot a left-handed jump hook from beyond half court for the win and the Lakers would probably start celebrating while the Spalding was still in the air. This Kobe dude can't be serious ... but he is -- he's so serious.
Last Saturday's buzzer-beating baseline trey against the Kings (one of the few open looks I've ever seen him get at the end of a game) gave Kobe three game-winners in about four weeks. His first was in early-December, an off-balance, semi-runner that he banked off the glass on poor Dwyane Wade. Then there was his little shake-n-bake, turnaround fade-away on the Bucks two weeks later. All these end-of-game shenanigans are adding to Kobe's clutch lore.
Oh wait ... I forgot, some of these newfangled stats will tell you that Kobe isn't actually all that clutch. My bad.
There are "stats" out there that say Carlos Boozer and Corey Maggette are better late-game options than Kobe Bryant. John Schuhmann (our numbers expert here at NBA.com) wrote this column at the beginning of the season, which included a list that ranked Kobe 38th in "clutch situations." Give Schuhmann a break though, it wasn't his fault. It's math and science's fault.
With "clutch situations" defined as "the last five minutes of a game with a scoring margin of five points or less," an equation was used to find each player's True Shooting Percentage (TS%). True Shooting Percentage basically takes all the points a player accumulates during these "clutch situations" and divides it by the product of doubling a players field goal attempts and 44 percent of his free throw attempts.
It would look like this on Albert Einstein's chalk board: True Shooting Percentage = PTS/ (2*(FGA + (0.44*FTA))).
Got all that? Good. Now let me tell what you already know: the results are bogus -- especially if we want to call this some kind of "clutch stat." Why? Well, at some point in our cultural history, the word "clutch" went from being just a noun and verb and became an adjective, too. Clutch, as in, "tending to be successful in tense or critical situations." That definition seems like you can regulate it to "stats" and math, but we all know that, in sports, it's more abstract than that. But before we even get into that, there's the reality that there are so many factors and variables that can result in Mehmet freaking Okur sporting a higher "clutch" TS% than LeBron bleeping James.
For instance, LeBron is probably shooting more contested shots than Okur, who gets more open looks off Deron Williams' dribble penetration. Amar'e Stoudemire converting off a Steve Nash pick-and-roll pass is entirely different than D-Wade needing to make something out of nothing on a broken play against a stiffened, late-game defense.
Any kind of stat that ranks Kyle Korver 13 spots ahead of Carmelo Anthony shouldn't really have the word "clutch" anywhere near it. Let's call it "late-game accuracy." We, well, "I" use "clutch" in a much more visceral sense.
For me, clutch guys are the dudes that come up big, in big situations, in big games. Maggette's stats would, I'm sure be useful to a GM thinking about acquiring him and placing a value on his ability to get to the line late in games. But ultimately, who really thinks of Magette as truly "clutch" when he's played for mediocre-to-abysmal teams for much of his career?
His late-game free throws haven't led to too many late-season wins for a team fighting for playoff position or to a win in a swing game of the playoffs. And here's the biggie: how many actual Ws has he actually led a team to? Maggette has played on only one squad that finished over .500 -- the 2005-06 Clippers -- which was probably because Sam Cassell was taking the clutch shots. So, ultimately, is Maggette truly more "clutch" than Paul Pierce? Come on, son.
Here's when we can really have a "clutch stat" -- when we have a mathematic/statistical equation that takes into account when a player like 'Bron or 'Melo is 4-for-16 until the last five minutes of a close game and then goes 4-for-5 from the field and 5-for-5 from the line. Or, when we place more weight on games against teams with winning percentages higher than .600; or when the "clutch stat" differentiates between a January game, a regular season "statement games" and a playoff game. Clutch is when Player X's team shoots 30 percent in the second half and in a "we're not losing"-type performance, scores eight straight points in the last five minutes.
Ask yourself this: If Shawn Marion -- ranked 31 spots ahead of Kobe on the "clutch situation" list -- would have taken that 3-pointer against the Kings, would Paul Westphal have had the same nonchalant, resigned, arms folded, "I-know-this-is-going-in, so-I'll-just-look-down-and-check-to-make-sure-he's-in-bounds-and-behind-the-3-point-line" posture? Doubt that, too.
Would Kings fans have had the same beach ball-sized lump in their throats? Nah. You know why?
Because -- and no disrespect to Marion and his obvious talent and value -- he ain't Kobe. Kobe's clutch.
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