Kobe Bryant to America: "Don't Player-hate!"

One could stake their reputation on the fact that NBA superstar Kobe Bryant is accustomed to "getting the call" when someone charges him. But the June 30 off-court (or rather in-court) accusation of sexual assault is one charge Kobe simply will not flop for. In the weeks following the stunning announcement by Eagle County, Colorado's DA, the nation has granted the allegations of Kobe's sexual malfeasance the attention the situation deserves, flooding the airwaves with unanswerable questions. "Could it be arraigning in August?" Or the much favored, "Could Kobe Bryant be too offensive minded?" Or the introspective, "Is it funny to call him 'Bare Bryant'?"

But sometimes enough really does mean enough, as the five-time All-Star finally takes to the defensive end to swat down the idle rumors trashing his reputation-allowing me the privilege of a face-to-face interview in his Los Angeles home to discuss the scandalous details of June 30, 2003.

"Not in my house!" Kobe's voice booms from stem to stern as I attempt to enter the foyer with my Rockfords still laced up. Instead, the esteemed butler William Yeats ushers me into a pair of plastic booties (later signed and valued at 45 dollars) and marshals me inside of what is just one of Bryant's manors (for the record, Mr. Bryant has magnificent manors). Flanking me on all sides are the vestiges of past triumphs, as well as the intangible (wave of the hand) musk of further victories to come. But like any reporter worth his weight in Peabodies, I strike, beeline, towards the more palpable aromas of the kitchen. Meatloaf! Predicting my move, the journalistic savvy Yeats heads me off at the door. He fearlessly catapults me into the den where the 6'6" Bryant comfortably reposes on the lone chair. Pulling myself together, I cop a gangster lean and we begin:

Yours Truly: Mr. Bryant…

Kobe Bryant:Kobe, please...

YT: Mr. Kobe, let us not mince words: did you commit sexual assault on June 30, 2003?

KB: No, I did not.

YT: Well, who cares? I'm tellin' you, I just don't get women, you know? Sometimes they want us to commit and then, when we finally do it's, it's…well anyway, frivolities aside, wouldn't you say it's ironic that the biggest challenge of your career has you sitting courtside? [Chuckles (mine)]

[Pause (uncomfortable)]

YT: Now then Kobzilla, perhaps the most damaging evidence to leak out about that fateful night has been the reports of loud noises emanating from your room and the sound of female crying. How do you retort to these reports?

KB: She wasn't crying. We were ballin'. Basketball. That's all that went on in that hotel room. I didn't want to tell people at first because I didn't think they would believe me.

YT: So, what you're saying is that you two just "played some basketball?"

KB: Exactly. The "noise" everyone's been yapping about? That was from the lay-up drills we were practicing against the headboard…

YT: Kobes Pierre, I wasn't born yesterday - unless today is the 9th because I wasborn on the 8th. What day is it today?

KB: Basketball, that's all that happened.

YT: Well, how did this [ahem] sporting start?

KB: We took a few shots to warm ourselves up…

YT: Solid!

KB: and then we sort of fooled around with a little pick-up game… [Kobe struggles inwardly]

YT: Go on…

KB: Well, that turned into some heavy one-on-one action. We played to 11, but after midnight it got serious.

YT: I see. Now then, tell me about her defense.

KB: It was all pretty standard: the hand in the face; some hip checking; and, of course, slapping my wrists whenever I tried to grab a few easy buckets.

YT: I know the feeling.

KB: But she had considerable trouble blocking me, probably because of my form.

YT: Your form?

KB: I have a menacing hook.

YT: Ouch! Moving on, how did you [ahem] make-out?

KB: Well, we kept it pretty close. I mean, it was all up and down at the beginning, but I remember the turning point occurred when I took it to the hole and jammed it with my 36" vertical. She didn't like that.

YT: I'll bet. Please, continue…

KB: Well, like I said, I was down early, but I got the advantage of her after that. One time the lane was open, I mean, I had the easy 2 in, but I got greedy and went for three. It was ruled over the line.

YT: Well, these rules change overnight. Or over some champagne!

KB: You see, at that point, I was just trying to score. But it went on so long that, by the end of the night, I was so tired I was only shooting bricks. Of course, it didn't matter by then; she couldn't protect her basket to save her life.

YT: But would you say that she held her own?

KB: For four quarters? Definitely.

YT: Four quarters! I need to speak to your broker - my fourth quarter earnings are way down.

KB: I do have to say that she started whining near the end, but I didn't pay any attention to that. You see I'm the type of guy who keeps at it until I hear the whistle.

YT: Yes, and she claims she left her key chain at the front desk. Now, what happened after you finished up?

KB: Well, we hit the showers and got dressed, end of story. Then I told her to wash her sweaty uniform…

YT: Oh, I get it: a dirty Jersey girl.

KB: …and to not feel so bad about getting raped.

YT:Pardon me?

KB: You know, about losing so bad.

YT: Oh, I see. So, how does your wife feel about this little escapade?

KB: She's just mad that we don't play around like we used to. It's just not as much fun with her anymore, you know? I mean, we know all each other's moves. Where's the surprise? Plus she told me herself that it's getting pretty hard to fake me out. But we played today, for old time's sake.

YT: Not to editorialize, but who won?

KB: She did, on this sweet off-the-backboard move.

YT: I hope she called that.

KB: My wife always calls the bank.

YT: [ahem]