Leandro: King Cobra

Somewhere between the 5:37 and 4:21 marks of the third quarter, an amazing image was emblazoned in my memory. I saw something that I am not sure I have seen before. There was a moment -- a single, shining moment -- in Leandro Barbosa's meteoric rise to super-stardom that should be the cornerstone of every Blur highlight reel ever edited for the rest of his career.

Leandro was calm. He was confident. He had the look of a shark in bloody waters. He stared down his defender, looking him square in the eye -- or maybe through them to the net 25 feet behind. Leandro stood there on the right wing, just beyond the three point arc. Leaning slightly forward with the ball in his grasp, he barely moved as he surveyed the court, running his myriad options through his mind as quickly as his own first step.

His defender stood bent over deeply, eyes wide like a deer in the middle of a remote highway, the headlights barrelling down at 100 miles per hour. His arm raised in front of him, occasionally jerking left and right, up and down. His head didn't move, and his eyes never blinked. It was obvious that he knew that Leandro needed only the 1/10 second to blow right by him. So he stood there, expecting the worst and praying for luck. His legs twitched uncontrollably as Leandro continued to stare him down.

Leandro ball-faked. His defender jerked. Leandro moved the ball slowly in front of his hips. His defender didn't even try to swipe at it. Leandro lifted his head. His defender jostled. Leandro had transfixed his opponent, like a cobra lifting its head and spreading its cape, opening its jaws in anticipation of its victim's first sign of weakness. No other defender was coming to help, and Leandro's options were infinite. He could shoot, he could drive left or right, he could dish to a moving team mate.

Leandro chose the latter, and the ball made its way inside to Amare Stoudemire for an easy two. The Suns ran back on defense.

I find it amazing that Leandro Barbosa has earned his deadly reputation so quickly. The Lakers know they don't have an answer for him, and LB knows it. Leandro is cool, he's calm, he's confident. It doesn't matter who is facing him, Leandro has absolutely no fear. How do I know?

That defender was Kobe Bryant. Yes -- Black Mamba, himself.

Now, my testosterone told me that he should have just taken Kobe to the rack and clowned him on national television. But that particular hormone has never been associated with the improvement of one's I.Q. (just look at any NFL linebacker or Barry Bonds for evidence). Instead, Leandro kept his head in the game and got the ball to the open man for the easy score.

This is the same Kobe who manages to find himself on the NBA All-Defensive team year in and year out. The same guy who, although I believe his defense is highly overrated, takes the Michael Jordan approach of demanding the defensive assignment on the opposition's best perimeter threat. He prides himself, however misguided it may be, on taking on the challenge of shutting down a hot scorer.

More than the blinding blow-by moves, the back door cuts, the fearless three point shots, the timely deflections, and the uniquely soft touch he displays when he lays the ball high off the glass, this moment impressed me the most about Leandro. This moment showcased the essence of what Leandro has become -- a feared assassin among the NBA ranks.

*Update:

4:38 3rd Quarter