"2001 Between the Lines" is a series of columns by Magazine writers looking back at small, but significant, moments in sports.

Kobe Bryant has been smacked around over the years for adopting methods and mannerisms from Michael Jordan, but there is one parallel he couldn't have planned. It occurred in Philadelphia last June, after the Lakers clinched their second straight championship. Just as Jordan had cried tears of relief as he lay sprawled in the Bulls' locker room hugging the '97 championship trophy, Kobe sobbed behind a curtain in the First Union Center while hugging his uncle and aunt. His headstrong ways had put him on an emotional island -- but he was finally free to leave.

The tumultuous season began with Kobe making it known he no longer planned to take a back seat to Shaquille O'Neal. His maturity and character -- and integrity, thanks to coach Phil Jackson -- were suddenly being debated by teammates, columnists and fans alike. The clamor got louder when Kobe made the audacious claim that while the Shaq-led team went 15-8 to win a title in 2000, the Lakers would sweep in 2001 with him leading the way. (The Lakers did go 15-1 last spring.)

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Kobe had just as much emotional static surrounding him off the court. He was engaged to 18-year-old Vanessa Laine, but their marriage plans were reportedly delayed by legal issues being ironed out by his advisers. His parents, who had moved out to L.A. with him when he was acquired by the Lakers and lived a few doors away, moved back to Philadelphia but did not attend the Finals. Indications were that a rift had developed over Vanessa.

In any case, Kobe arrived in Philly as a villain, and without his parents' support. The 76ers fans didn't simply dislike him because he played for the Lakers, but because his life story couldn't compare to Rocky Balboa's the way Allen Iverson's could. AI was the little underdog who had tattoos and swore and partied and occasionally lost his mind, which endeared him to Philadelphians even though he was from Virginia. Kobe grew up in posh Lower Merion thanks to his dad's career with the Sixers. He attended an affluent public school. He doesn't drink, has no tattoos and speaks both Italian and English by the book.

Imagine then, for a moment, you're 22 years old, and being booed and cursed in the place you grew up. Your parents are not speaking to you because you fell in love. And if your team does not repeat as champions, you are sure to be blamed for upsetting the status quo. If Kobe had done what everyone wanted him to do, he could've avoided all that. But if he had done what everyone wanted him to do, it's unlikely he'd be the youngest player in NBA history to own two championship rings. In short, he wouldn't be Kobe.

I've long been fascinated as much by his single-minded drive and unflinching confidence as by his ability to bottle his emotions. It's stunning to think of the road he already has travelled. Having been around a few years longer, I also knew that someone with such ambition and under such stress -- self-inflicted or not -- can fly above it for only so long. I privately wondered when it would all hit home, and when it did, what would happen.

In light of all that, Kobe's reaction to the journey's successful completion made perfect sense. While his teammates joyously celebrated on the court, he had the look of a hostage who had just been released. Having seen him exult after winning the first title, I knew he wasn't simply playing too cool to let loose. A few minutes later, I was walking through the bowels of the First Union Center when a man and woman asked if I knew where they could find him. They said they were his aunt and uncle.

Everyone is somebody's relative at times like this, but I led them to the back door to the interview room and got Kobe's attention. He came over to greet them immediately. There was a bittersweet aspect to the way they clutched each other as he wept, as if they all knew Kobe should have been hugging his parents instead. There was no laughing, no smiling, just stiff-lipped congratulations. A few minutes later, as he sat at the podium answering questions, he paused several times to keep from losing it in public.

One day I'll ask Kobe about that night, that moment and the culmination of that season. For now, I'll simply remember it as the night the young superstar, at times seemingly built in a lab from MJ tapes, NBA genes and precious little sentiment, demonstrated that he does have emotions beyond those stirred by victory and defeat. For a while there, I wasn't sure.

Ric Bucher covers the NBA for ESPN The Magazine. E-mail him at ric.bucher@espnmag.com.