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Written By:  Michael D. McClellan | Kobe Bryant knows the stories well. He has nothing but love for the man whose legacy stretches from the cramped gyms and bare knuckle brawls of the 1950s, to the innovative way that teams prepare for games today. When Bryant joins the Los Angeles Lakers as a 17-year-old rookie fresh out of high school, he quickly learns that the two of them are kindred spirits. Both pursue basketball greatness by embracing the least-glamorous aspects of the game, spending countless hours fine-tuning the most basic basketball fundamentals. Both are perfectionists who share a hypercompetitive and maniacal drive to win. And both are old school warriors who demand the same unwavering excellence from those around them. As Bryant morphs from precocious teenager to global basketball icon, their relationship grows strong and sturdy. He’s there to help Kobe weather the rape allegations that nearly derail his career, and provides sage advice at the height of his famous feud with Shaquille O’Neal. When Bill Sharman passes away at the age of 87, Kobe joins Jerry West, Pat Riley, and 500 others at Terranea Resort to pay tribute to the man he called mentor, advisor, confidant, and friend.

“Bill really loved Kobe,” Sharman’s wife, Joyce, recalls. “When Kobe was considering leaving the Lakers in 2007, Bill wrote him a personal note. It said that the best thing he could do professionally was to stay in Los Angeles and finish his career where he started it.”

Bryant, who has a deep and abiding respect for NBA history, takes the advice to heart. He walks away after scoring 60 in his final game, knowing he’ll be a Laker for life.

“Bill was someone I respected immensely,” Bryant says. “He played on championship teams and he built them, too. What he accomplished during his life was pretty special. He was an even better human being.”

~  ~  ~

Travel back in time.

The man with the dashing good looks and humble demeanor plays alongside Bob Cousy to form the NBA’s first modern backcourt, his midrange jumper a perfect complement to Cousy’s sleight of hand. He’s such a natural athlete that the Brooklyn Dodgers draft him, and while he never gets into a big league game, he’s in the Dodgers’ dugout on October 3, 1951, the day that Bobby Thomson hits the famous “Shot Heard ‘Round the World” that sinks Brooklyn’s pennant hopes and catapults the Giants in the World Series.

As a player, he’s an eight-time NBA All Star. As a coach, he wins three championships in three different leagues and sets a record for consecutive wins that may never by broken. He is one of three people, along with John Wooden and Lenny Wilkens, honored by the Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame as both a player and a coach. He’s an All-Star Game MVP, and a member of the prestigious 50 Greatest Players in NBA History. He drinks championship champagne with Cousy and Russell, and later coaches Jerry West, Elgin Baylor, and Wilt Chamberlain to those 33 consecutive wins en route to the Lakers’ first title in Los Angeles. For an encore he becomes an NBA executive, pulling the trigger on moves that deliver Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, Magic Johnson, and James Worthy to Los Angeles, launching Showtime in the process.

Sharman plays during an era that’s almost forgotten now, but few in the game have ever had a sweeter stroke; so pure a shooter is Sharman that he leads the NBA in free throw percentage seven times, and is the only player in league history with three streaks of 50 consecutive free throws. His 56 straight makes during the 1959 playoffs is still a postseason record.

“His shooting mechanics were as close to perfect as you could get,” Cousy says. “Nobody worked harder on their technique.”

Born in Abilene, Texas, on May 25, 1926, Sharman’s early childhood is spent with his parents and older brother at the crossroads of the Dust Bowl and the Great Depression. The family eventually moves to Porterville, California, and it’s here, at Porterville High School, that the ridiculously athletic Sharman earns 15 letters in an assortment of sports, including football, baseball, basketball, tennis, and track.

Sharman enlists in the Navy a day after graduation, and ties the knot a day after that. He serves a two-year stint in the South Pacific at the height of World War II, before returning home to enroll at the University of Southern California. At USC he works an assortment of odd jobs to make ends meet, cleaning up after the art classes on campus, and quietly acting as an extra several Hollywood films.  He also walks onto the baseball and basketball teams. Initially banished with the other scrubs, Sharman literally shoots himself onto the varsity squad when the team’s resident star, Tex Winter, informs the coaches that the Trojans’ best player is in the building next door.

“Those sessions helped me to refine my fundamentals,” Sharman says. “I wasn’t given anything. I had to work hard to earn a scholarship.”

By 1950, the 6-foot-1 Sharman is an All-American forward at USC. He’s selected as team captain before his senior season, and then honored as Most Valuable Player when it ends. The two-time Pacific Coast Conference MVP draws the interest of the fledgling NBA, but Sharman has concerns about the NBA’s financial viability. He signs minor league contract with the Dodgers for $12,000 instead and dreams of stardom in the big leagues.

“I really didn’t think about basketball much at that point,” says Sharman. “It wasn’t as stable as baseball, so I focused on baseball instead.”

The Washington Capitols take Sharman in the second round of the 1950 NBA Draft, even though he’s already toiling away in the minor leagues. With future Hall of Famer Duke Snider in the Brooklyn outfield, playing alongside big league mainstays Carl Furillo and Andy Pafko, it doesn’t take Sharman long to realize that cracking the Dodgers lineup is going to be harder than originally thought. When Washington’s head coach, Horace “Bones” McKinney, pays a visit later that summer, Sharman is all ears. The Capitols offer him $9,000, and Sharman is suddenly a year-round athlete.

“I spent the summer of 1950 in the Dodgers’ Class A league, playing for their team in Colorado,” Sharman says. “When the season was over, I reported to the Capitols’ training camp in Washington, DC. At that time I didn’t realize that one of my teammates—Earl Lloyd—would become the first black player to play in an NBA regular season game. I used to pick him up on the way to practice, and we developed a lifelong friendship. Little did we realize that we would both be inducted into the Hall of Fame!”

Sharman is averaging a team-high 12.2 points when Washington folds 31 games into his rookie season. A dispersal draft is held. He’s selected by Fort Wayne, but never plays a game for the Pistons. Fort Wayne is in search of size. Auerbach dangles center Charlie Share, and the Pistons offer up Sharman and rugged bruiser Bob Brannum in return. Sharman signs for $14,000. It’s one of many shrewd deals Red architects through the years.

“I saw Sharman shoot,” Auerbach says later. “And could he ever shoot. What I didn’t know was how he would mesh with Cousy.”

Auerbach doesn’t have to worry for long; in their first game together, Cousy and Sharman combine to score 44 points.

“Cousy made the game easy for me,” Sharman says. “He was like Larry Bird, in that he knew what was going to happen before anyone else did. My job was to get open. If I did that I knew he would get me the ball. Cousy also had a charisma that the sport needed. He was one of the main reasons that basketball became so popular.”

Bob Cousy and Ed Macauley are clearly the stars in Sharman’s first year with the Celtics, but Sharman finds his niche, averaging 10.7 points while shooting 85 percent from the free-throw line. Boston finishes in second place in the Eastern Division with a 39–27 record, but the lack of a dominant center costs them in the division semifinal series against New York. It proves to be a recurring theme for the pre-Russell Boston Celtics. Nobody takes the losses harder than the team’s biggest fan, Walter Brown.

“Walter Brown was one of the nicest, kindest people that I have ever known,” Sharman says. “He was a true gentleman. He invested just about every dollar he had to help keep the NBA from going under. Without him, the league might not have survived.”

Sharman averages 16.2 points during the 1952–53 season, while playing a more integral role. He also captures the first of seven free throw crowns.

“Hard work and proper technique,” Sharman says, when asked how he made the free throw look so easy. “It all began when my father nailed a basketball hoop to one of our barns in the backyard. And that’s where I’d be most of the time, at least when I didn’t have other family functions or duties which needed my attention. I was very fortunate to start shooting the basketball at a very early age. Grasping the basic fundamentals sparked my love and passion for the game.”

In Boston, Sharman continues to groove his stroke.

“It was important for me to establish a consistent shooting motion. When I played for the Celtics and we went out onto the court, the first thing I did was go to the free throw line and shoot until I made three or four in a row. I wanted my mechanics to be as close to perfect as possible. And then, at halftime, I’d go out and repeat the process. The image of the ball going through the hoop was very powerful. It gave me confidence that, in a game situation, I could step to the line and repeat what I had practiced.”

A year later, Macauley leads the league in field goal percentage, Cousy leads the league in assists, and Sharman is tops in free throw percentage. Auerbach’s selection of junior-eligible Frank Ramsey offers hope, but only in future seasons. Motivated by the loss to the Syracuse Nationals in the Eastern Division Finals, Sharman is one of the first players to recognize the value of year-round workouts.

“He was the first player I knew who adopted a structured exercise program,” Cousy says of Sharman’s workout regimen. “Before the game he would be on the floor doing sit-ups, push-ups, stretches, and things that are common to most teams today. Back then, nobody did that. Sharman was ahead of his time.”

A new era dawns during the 1954–55 regular season. Sharman’s scoring average increases to 18.4 points, and he’s again named to the NBA All-Star Game. This time he garners MVP honors, thanks to a brilliant fourth quarter performance that propels the East to a 100–91 victory at Madison Square Garden.

“Winning the MVP award certainly ranks as one of my all-time career highlights, and remains somewhat unusual in the way that it happened,” Sharman says. “As I recall it, the game was very close going into the fourth quarter—and I had only scored five points at the time. But I got hot during the middle of the period and scored 10 points down the stretch.”

Sometimes it pays to be good, and sometimes it pays to be lucky. On this occasion, Sharman is both.

“Unbeknownst to me,” says Sharman, “Al Cervi, who coached the East that year, tried to substitute for me during the fourth quarter because the game was close and I hadn’t been particularly effective up until that point. However, I scored a couple of quick baskets before the action on the floor was stopped! Cervi decided to call the player back from the scorer’s table—I believe it was Dick McGuire—and let me finish out the game. Had there been anything to stop the clock, I would have come to the bench and watched the rest of the game with everyone else.”

Sharman wins a fourth consecutive free throw crown during the 1955–56 regular season, is again named an All-Star, and for the first time in his career is honored with a spot on the All-NBA First Team. A painful semifinals loss to the Nats convinces Auerbach that changes are needed if the Celtics are to win a title. Cousy is arguably the Celtics’ best player, and easily the most popular. Sharman is at the top of his game. That leaves Macauley, who can score the basketball, but who can’t bang with the game’s goliaths.

“The trade to acquire Bill Russell was probably the biggest and most prolific deal ever made in the history of the NBA,” Sharman says. “The Celtics won 11 championships because of Russell, and the St. Louis Hawks won their only championship with Ed Macauley and Cliff Hagan, whom they received in the deal.”

The trade, while hard on Brown, is a win-win for all involved.

“I had the unique perspective of playing for the Boston Celtics in those years leading up to the trade for Russell,” Sharman continues. “I knew firsthand how we struggled underneath the basket, and how other teams in the NBA would pound away at us—especially in the playoffs. All of that changed with Russell. He was the missing piece that put us over the top. Macauley was a fine player in his own right, but he couldn’t gain weight, no matter how hard he tried. Walter Brown loved him, but he knew that the Celtics weren’t going to win a championship unless something changed.

“Ed was from St. Louis, and he had a very sick son that needed constant medical attention, so when Red and Walter Brown approached Ed about the trade, he was very receptive to the possibility. He could be there to help take care of his son. It really worked out the best for everyone.”

The arrival of Russell, along with fellow rookie Tommy Heinsohn, vaults the Celtics among the NBA’s elite. Sharman’s 21.1 points lead the team, earning him a second consecutive All-NBA First Team nod, cementing his reputation as one of the best shooting guards of his generation. He is again the league leader in free throw percentage, and is an All-Star for the fifth consecutive season. The Celtics, with Russell leading the way, finish the 1956–57 regular season with a 44–28 record and first place in the Eastern Division. Most importantly, the team purges itself of years of playoff disappointment, reaching the 1957 NBA Finals and winning Game 7 in thrilling fashion.

“The series between the Celtics and the Hawks was very special for me. It was my first championship, and the seventh game, played in the Boston Garden, went into double overtime. The Hawks had Macauley and Hagan, and they also had the great Bob Pettit. Cousy and I both struggled to hit shots in that game, which was uncharacteristic of us. I remember Bill Russell and Tommy Heinsohn, both rookies that season, having great games. It was a great win.”

Sharman averages 20.4 points during the 1958–59 season, his ninth in the league, and he reclaims the free throw crown from Dolph Schayes. He’s an All-NBA First Team selection for the fourth and final time in his illustrious career, and is once again an NBA All-Star. More importantly, the Celtics are once again world champions, sweeping the Minneapolis Lakers 4–0 and capturing the league crown for the second time in three years.

Sharman’s final two seasons in Boston end with championship rings, as the Celtics dispatch the Hawks on both occasions. With the 1961 NBA expansion draft looming, he retires from the NBA and returns to California, where he’s hired as player-coach of the Los Angeles Jets in the newly formed American Basketball League. Sharman appears in 19 games for the Jets, but hangs up his sneakers for good when the franchise folds at midseason. Cleveland Pipers’ owner George Steinbrenner wastes little time hiring him to coach his team. Under Sharman’s direction, the Pipers win the ABL Championship. He’s named the league’s Coach of the Year.

“Red had a big influence on my coaching,” Sharman says. “He was ahead of his time in many respects. When I played for him, the fast break wasn’t really used to attack opposing defenses. Red ran the fast break all of the time. It became a very big weapon.”

The ABL folds a few weeks after the Pipers with the championship. Sharman coaches Cal State-Los Angeles for two seasons, and spends time as a broadcaster before taking his first NBA coaching gig with the San Francisco Warriors. While his two years at San Francisco don’t produce a championship, Sharman introduces a revolutionary new approach to game day preparation: The morning shootaround, now a universally accepted practice by basketball programs everywhere, is the product of Sharman’s desire to have his players primed to perform at tipoff. Within three years, every NBA franchise adopts the practice.

“It was something I did on my own when I played for the Celtics,” Sharman notes. “I’d go to an empty gym and just shoot. I noticed that I felt better afterwards, and that I had much more confidence during the game. That’s when I started charting my shooting percentages from both the field and the free-throw line, and, to my surprise, I discovered that I was more effective when I shot baskets on the morning of a game. My first five years in the league, I shot about 86 percent from the free-throw line. The second five, with loosening up during the day, I shot 92 percent.”

After compiling an 87–76 record in San Francisco, Sharman leaves to become head coach of the ABA’s Los Angeles Stars, leading the team to a 43–41 record and being named ABA co-Coach of the Year. The franchise relocates to Utah a year later, where Sharman guides the team to the 1971 ABA Championship.

Jack Kent Cooke hires Sharman to coach the Lakers in the summer of 1971. He inherits a title-starved team, and losers of seven NBA Finals since moving to Los Angeles in 1960. The enigmatic Chamberlain is still a dominating presence in the paint, and sharp-shooting Jerry West is in the prime of his career. With Gail Goodrich, Happy Hairston, and Jim McMillan in the mix, Sharman senses that his new team has the ingredients needed to be special.

“It was a challenge getting the best out of Wilt,” Sharman admits. “As a coach, I recognized his importance if we were going to reach our goal of winning a championship. This doesn’t take anything away from the other players on the team, but we needed Wilt to be fully engaged if we were going to win it all. It became a game that we played between ourselves. I’d continue asking him questions about strategy until he came up with the right answer, thinking that the strategy was his. Wilt assumed ownership of the decision-making process and played a championship brand of basketball.”

From November 5th, 1971 until January 9, 1972, the Lakers win an NBA-record 33 consecutive games. Finishing the season at 69–13—then the best regular-season record in NBA history—Los Angeles storms through the playoffs and crushes the New York Knicks in the 1972 NBA Finals. Sharman is named the 1972 NBA Coach of the Year.

“We were nine games into the regular season, and Elgin Baylor had just announced his retirement from the NBA. We just wanted to win the next game. I wasn’t sure what the record for consecutive wins was, to be completely honest with you. I only learned that it was Milwaukee, with 20, after our streak reached 18. It was special to go for more than two months and not lose a game, but the streak doesn’t compare to winning the championship. If we had set the record and then fallen short of our goal, which was an NBA title, then I don’t think the record would have the significance that it enjoys today.”

New York returns the favor a year later, beating Sharman’s Lakers 4–1 in the 1973 NBA Finals. LA’s aging roster sends the team on a slow, downward spiral, and Sharman resigns following the 1975–76 regular season. The passion to coach is still there, but all of the screaming overtop NBA crowds severely damages Sharman’s vocal cords. It’s an injury that never heals.

In 1976, Sharman becomes the Lakers’ GM. It’s during this period that he trades for Kareem, drafts Magic and Worthy, and hires Pat Riley. The resulting Showtime dynasty wins five more titles during the ’80s, and, in the process, becomes the first team to repeat as NBA champions since the 1969 Boston Celtics.

Sharman retires from the daily grind of management following that 1988 NBA title, staying on as a special consultant to the team and forging a special relationship with Kobe. By then his legacy is secure as the sweet-shooting perfectionist, engineering a Hall of Fame career as a player in Boston, and scoring another nod for his encore as a coach.

His one piece of life advice to others?

“Work hard and be honest, always!”