(Los Angeles, CA) - Phil Jackson, when asked about his mind-bending motivational tactics, often echoes one of his favorite lines from a Rudyard Kipling poem about the rules of the jungle that, in essence, says, “The strength of the pack is the wolf and the strength of the wolf is the pack.” Fortunately for Jackson, the wolf wears #24 and the pack is headed for a championship party in Los Angeles.

The strength of the Lakers is Kobe. Kobe’s strength is the Lakers. Critics question this synergy partly because Kobe, at times, displays impatience and impunity when he works with individuals who are neither as talented nor driven as he is. The wolf gets testy with the pack. The pack, in turn, distances from the wolf. With any two-way relationship, like a business partnership for instance, the road is never obstacle-free. Ironically, Kobe’s stubbornness and legendary single-mindedness might have helped the Lakers grow from what felt like an insipid blind date in the first post-Shaq season to a winning give-and-take relationship in 2009.

As such, I don’t understand how Kobe’s greatness rests on his ability to win a championship on his own. Bill Russell has Bob Cousy. Magic Johnson has Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. Michael Jordan has Scottie Pippen. Yet no one demands that Russell, Magic and Jordan win a title without assistance to validate their immortality. Great things are rarely achieved singlehandedly. Lennon wouldn’t be Lennon without McCartney. Bono wouldn’t be Bono without The Edge.

But as Kobe gets tantalizingly close to becoming, not just the next Jordan, but  the new Jordan, people threatened by the impending paradigm shift launch a preemptive strike and swiftly question Bryant’s ability to lead, win, score, share, love and hate. It is unfortunate that in the post-Jordan era, greatness comes with impossibly steep expectations. Suddenly, being great isn’t enough. One has to surpass the very notion of excelling in team sports. If Kobe wishes to be the new Jordan, throw him into the murderous gauntlet and make him prove his worth.

With all this pessimism and scrutiny thrown his way, what other recourse does the wolf have? He grinds his teeth. He abandons congeniality in favor of rancor. He loses the ability to smile in order to develop a scowl. Bryant’s 40 point outburst in Game 1 sends the message loud and clear: The wolf is out for blood so dare not impede his path. He elbows Jameer Nelson. He drags Dwight Howard into first row. He makes Courtney Lee, Mikael Pietrus and JJ Redick, Orlando’s designated Kobe stoppers, look like sheep offered for slaughter.

Compelled by Kobe’s ferocity, the pack responds. Pau Gasol unleashes a brilliant performance armed with finesse and force reminiscent of Kevin McHale. Lamar Odom, bad back and all, becomes the primary assassin off the bench. Derek Fisher nails two three-pointers in Game 4 that basically clinch the series and does it with a fiendish smile. Trevor Ariza uses quiet fury to steal, stab and slam the opposition in the most critical times.

The strength of the pack is the wolf. The strength of the wolf is the pack.

The strength of the Lakers is Kobe. Kobe’s strength is the Lakers.

And the wolf finally gets his NBA championship. MH