Part of me is afraid to write this. Is an objective stance on Kobe Bryant even possible (without ending up in Temecula) at this point? I grew up a Patrick Ewing-Knicks and Don Mattingly-Yankees fan. Over time, these teams morphed into the Allan Houston-Latrell Sprewell-Starbury-Knicks and the Derek Jeter-Mariano Rivera-Bernie Williams Yankees. Not only did they trend in opposite directions, but New York fans from this generation have a fairly unique perspective on battling against legends (see Jordan, Michael) while being the most hated team in a league. While it makes for year-round entertainment, it’s also exhausting; the feelings of love and hate are rarely black and white. As a fan of the game, appreciating greatness and loving your team are not mutually exclusive.
Why does this matter? Because during the past two generations A.J. (After Jordan), many of us have tried to compartmentalize Kobe. Why bother? I don’t dislike Kobe. I also don’t particularly like Kobe. I do absolutely respect the hell out of him, which is what makes this piece possible.
Kobe Bryant’s basketball life appears to resemble a sonnet. Not only did he start in Italy, but Bryant’s pro years have followed a strict rhyme scheme and specific structure. These patterns of scheme and structure are most evident in Kobe’s shot selection and Hunting Grounds. Aside from my respect for his game, what also makes this piece possible is data. At this moment in time, Kobe is arguably the best player to engage in a deep dive on spatial patterns. Our shot location data (as always, courtesy of Daryl Blackport) starts at the 1996-1997 season — coincidently Kobe’s first as a pro. So, there is no other player that has played for as long that we have all the data for. It’s a perfect storm, since “Hunting Grounds” has never been so aptly applied to an individual before.
Twenty-five thousand thirty-one. That’s the “N” of the dataset that is Kobe’s regular season shots, as of this season. Given Bryant’s own predilection for historical self-comparisons on usage, there are plenty of music notes here to study. What matters in this map? At this resolution — 19 years of shots on top of shots — the symmetrical balance of success is startling. Remember, Hunting Grounds are a proxy for where a player consistently gets his shots from; each game they serve as general guidelines (often predictably) for where he will shoot from. While there are large swaths of success going left, there is still equality — in nearly identical spaces — to the right. In essence, Kobe buried shots from the same spots, two times over, with plenty in between.
At a much smaller scale, these Hunting Grounds rang just as true for his historic 81-point game:
Again, balance. In what may be the greatest single-game scoring display we will ever witness, Kobe still displayed that patterned structure to his shot selection. This game serves as a singular representation for much of his career — lots of shots generally from those seven areas. Again, again, and again.
While we can zoom in and out over 19 seasons of data, the more logical approach is to break his Hunting Grounds down three ways: by season, by Shaq, and by Pau.
At the seasonal level, Kobe’s activity starts to look like Washington, DC in April — cherry blossoms everywhere. When each season is combined he occupies a whopping 11.8% of court space. What’s interesting is that Kobe’s seasonal activity space is strongly, negatively correlated with both his field goal percentage (-0.72) and assisted 3-point percentage (-0.68). Consider this:
- Career FG PCT: 44.6%
- Career PCT of Assisted 3-pointers: 65%
- Career Activity Space occupied, by season: 1.5%
Over the course of his career, as Kobe’s activity space shrunk, his shooting percentage went up. Ditto for how often his 3-pointers were assisted. Precision has been one of Bryant’s deadliest weapons during the ebb and flow of his marathon, and where that precision occurred from tends to vary very little each season. Once we clean up the yearly overlap, removing the 1- and 2- season noise…
…we’re left with that. At a cursory glance, this seemingly highlights the same seven areas the first map did. Well yes, and no. There are variations in the blends of colors for each area, representing different cumulative season totals. Basically: all of Kobe’s Hunting Grounds are not created equal. The left baseline and elbow are notable, as they don’t hit the same 5-6 season overlap that the others do.
Statistically, Kobe was a different player during his Shaq years versus his Pau years (side note: it is kinda remarkable how Kobe’s FG/eFG PCTs and PER are virtually unchanged). Combined with O’Neal, Kobe peaked in win percentage, offensive rating, plus/minus, 2-point shots attempted, and percentage of assisted 2s and 3s — all while maintaining a lower usage and less shooting space. Huh? Kobe was most effective during 1996-2004 – he carved up defensives precisely and efficiently. Spatially, the same is true:
The seven deadly areas and the symmetry don’t quite exist back then. Instead, Kobe is even more precise these years. There are roughly ten (10!) unique areas of successful shot activity that Kobe used in three or more of his seasons with Shaq. Some of these ten areas split up his traditional spots (especially on his traditionally favorite left side of the court), while others vanished (the right elbow). If only this had been more than an eight-season sample…I digress.
Examining the Pau years, Kobe scores more, on higher usage from longer shots that are less often assisted…all this while his Hunting Grounds take up significantly more space – a jump from 1.4% with Shaq to 2.1%. Oh, and he’s part of a worse defense.
Now, all these “worse” and “more” notations should not necessarily imply “bad;” Kobe-Shaq was a historic tandem. Rather, if Kobe was amazing with Shaq, he was reduced to very, very good with Pau. Spatially, the pattern is consistent. Clustering Kobe’s Hunting Grounds at two seasons or greater of overlap (ignoring the green) identify about six key areas — basically all the career-wide areas sans the right baseline. These areas during the Pau Years are broader; less precise, more court consuming. So what? This is a colorful way to articulate that Kobe was more ball dominant, more often, and for a lesser effectiveness.
The beginning of an Italian sonnet — the octave — begins with a rotation of two rhythmic sounds: a-b-a-b. The iambic pentameter of Kobe’s career has sounded something eerily similar: duo-uno-duo-uno. The second part of a sonnet — the sestet — usually carries a more flexible rhyming pattern. As the sun sets on Kobe’s final uno rhyme, whether he embarks on a new style (a trio perhaps?) or rides out this final note remains to be seen. Your favorite part of a song (or poem) is usually the most memorable. It’s about how it peaks, not necessarily about how it ends. Your favorite song also doesn’t need to be compared to other songs you like; you can enjoy it for exactly what it is. My personal favorite of Kobe’s sonnet will always be somewhere in the messy, complicated middle, circa 2000-2001. I can have that favorite and still love 1990s Jordan and Ewing, 2010s Lebron and Durant, and 2020s Wiggins — because in that moment, it’s the only song that’s playing.
Data and photo support provided courtesy of NBA.com, Basketball-Reference.com, and data extraordinaire Darryl Blackport.