View From The Other Side

With the tendon near his right thumb and index finger sore and starting to swell, Predrag Stojakovic drove home from Saturday’s practice and brooded awhile. Then brooded some more. And then he grabbed his cell phone, and, desperately seeking something--encouragement, counsel, a wake-up call--dialed big brother. He called Vlade Divac.

What should he do? What could he do? How is he supposed to emerge from his playoff shooting slump and help the Kings avert a three-game sweep by the Los Angeles Lakers if he can’t even grip the ball?

Divac listened patiently, then told [Stojakovic] to listen up: “I said, ‘I am 32 years old,’ ” the Kings’ veteran center related late Sunday afternoon, “ ‘and every part of my body hurts. But you have to play through it. If you can’t shoot the ball, do other things. Play good defense, get rebounds, dive for loose balls.’ ”

Predrag, he’s only 22.

But, boy, he learns fast.

After missing 10 of 12 field-goal attempts and contributing little else in the first two playoff games, Stojakovic played excellent defense, slipped inside for four rebounds, and erupted for 10 of his 19 points in the deciding fourth quarter of the Kings’ stunning 99-91 victory at Arco Arena. If these, at last, were the Kings of old, more reminiscent of last season’s energetic, irrepressible bunch than the wildly erratic 2000 Y2Kings version, this was the more familiar Predrag, the second-year swingman whose dramatic improvement this season earned him a featured role in the offense.

He could shoot, but he could always shoot. Suddenly he was scooting baseline and attacking the basket, snatching rebounds in traffic, contesting jump shots, deflecting passes until jamming his right hand March 21. Three games later, he returned with his hand taped, and, after adapting his stroke, regained his rhythm and his game--only to aggravate the injury in the regular-season finale at Utah.

Since, he has denied that he is in pain, that he has a problem.

But others knew. Vlade knew. The coaches knew. The Kings’ shooters, they knew best of all. They noted the awkward rotation on his normally sweet shot, detected his struggles handling the ball, watched his confidence and energy ebb as the playoffs progressed.

“If you can’t hold the ball,” said Nick Anderson, “you’re going to have trouble shooting, and Peja’s been fighting it. You don’t have the feel, the rotation. So I told him, ‘If the shot’s not falling, play defense, man. Help us that way.’ ”

And a funny thing happened on an altogether improbable NBC afternoon. Stojakovic . . . stopped fretting about his lost shot and found his game. His first field goal, for heaven’s sake, was a dunk. His second basket settled in from the left baseline. His first three-pointer kissed the net from the right corner. And in that incredible fourth quarter?

Peja couldn’t miss. He didn’t miss.