I still get chills thinking about the 2001 NBA Finals. As someone who’s spent years analyzing basketball—both as a fan and a professional commentator—this series stands out not just for its raw competitiveness, but for the sheer narrative weight it carried. The Lakers, led by the indomitable Shaquille O’Neal and a young, explosive Kobe Bryant, were chasing their second straight championship. On the other side stood Allen Iverson and the Philadelphia 76ers, a gritty, defensive-minded squad that many had written off before the series even began. What unfolded over those five games wasn’t just a contest of skill; it was a clash of identities, a story of resilience, and a masterclass in high-stakes basketball.
Game 1 remains one of the most iconic moments in Finals history. The 76ers came into Los Angeles and shocked the world. Iverson dropped 48 points—I remember watching, jaw practically on the floor, as he stepped over Tyronn Lue after that famous jumper. It was more than a basket; it was a statement. The Lakers had been unbeaten in the playoffs up to that point, 11-0, and here was Iverson, all 6 feet of him, refusing to back down. Philly’s defense, anchored by Dikembe Mutombo, held Shaq to 44 points but limited everyone else just enough. The Sixers stole one on the road, 107-101 in overtime, and suddenly, the Lakers’ invincibility was in question. I’ve always felt that game set the tone for the entire series—it forced the Lakers to dig deeper than they expected.
But as we saw in Game 2, champions respond. The Lakers adjusted, Shaq was an absolute force with 28 points, 20 rebounds, 9 assists, and 8 blocks—a stat line that still feels surreal—and Bryant, though not at his scoring peak, made key plays down the stretch. L.A. won 98-89, and you could feel the momentum shift. What struck me then, and still does, is how Philly’s early success mirrored that Flying Titans scenario from the reference material. Sometimes, adding a new piece—like Marlee Smith’s 20-point debut in a loss—can disrupt chemistry, even when it looks good on paper. The Sixers had found a rhythm without major adjustments, but as the series wore on, the Lakers’ depth and experience began to tell.
Games 3 and 4 were where the Lakers really flexed their muscles. Back in Philadelphia, the atmosphere was electric, but L.A. just seemed to elevate. Shaq averaged 33.5 points across those two games, and the role players—guys like Robert Horry and Derek Fisher—stepped up in crucial moments. I recall Fisher’s corner three in Game 3 that essentially sealed it; that’s the kind of shot that separates contenders from champions. The Sixers fought hard, especially Iverson, who put up 35 in Game 3, but they just couldn’t sustain it. By Game 4, the Lakers had a 3-1 lead, and you could sense the air going out of the Philly crowd. It’s funny—in sports, we often talk about “what ifs,” like if the Sixers had held on in Game 1 or if their role players had shot better from beyond the arc. But the reality is, the Lakers were the better team, and it showed.
Game 5 was the clincher, and it was almost poetic. Back in L.A., the Lakers closed it out 108-96, with Shaq earning Finals MVP after averaging 33 points and 15.8 rebounds for the series. Iverson finished with 37 points in that final game, a testament to his heart, but it wasn’t enough. Reflecting on it now, I think this series taught us a lot about team dynamics. The Flying Titans’ loss with their new import reminds me of how Philly’s initial spark faded when the Lakers made their adjustments. Sometimes, cohesion matters more than individual talent, and in the 2001 Finals, the Lakers had both. I’ve always believed that Shaq’s dominance inside, combined with Kobe’s evolving perimeter game, created a blueprint that many teams have tried to replicate since.
In the end, the 2001 NBA Finals wasn’t just about the Lakers winning their second title; it was about legacy. For Iverson, it solidified his status as an all-time great, even in defeat. For the Lakers, it was another step toward a three-peat. As I look back, I’m reminded why I love this sport—the drama, the unpredictability, and the way a single series can capture so many emotions. If you missed it live, I envy you getting to relive it now; it’s a masterpiece that never gets old.
