This Is a Guy They Can Bring Home to Daddy

I have two daughters, one 22 and the other 25. One will be getting married and pushed across the threshold in a Ralphs shopping cart, and the other might already be married for all I know, but unwilling to disclose any information about her personal life for some ridiculous notion it could appear in the newspaper.

Now I realize when I tell you I have two children age 22 and 25, you’re going to know just how old my wife is. I make this personal sacrifice, however, to show you that when I’m talking to a 23-year-old Kobe Bryant, I’m looking at a young man and wondering how my 22- or 25-year-old might fare in the same public arena.

In fact, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve told my 25-year-old, “I wish you’d hurry up and make millions so I could see how we’d handle it together.”

I don’t want to say it’s depressing. But the grocery store bagger is the same age as Kobe, and if he ever makes more than minimum wage, it will be interesting to see how he reacts.

I TOOK out a loan to go to Staples Center the other night and spend some time with Kobe. My other choice was to stay home and hear what has been going on at Ralphs recently.

As I sat there watching Kobe entertain, I got to thinking about how much time I spend trying to help some of our local sports figures, who aren’t very good, or who think they are better than everyone else. Just because catcher Chad Kreuter and USC Athletic Director Mike Garrett don’t talk, doesn’t mean my job’s done.

As a result, though, the athletes who do everything right most of the time around here sometimes get neglected, and the more I get the chance to be around Kobe, the more I’m impressed by this well-rounded young man.

After a recent game, a mob of reporters surrounded him and he gave every one of them what they wanted, only to find two or three waiting for more. One wanted a tape for a cancer victim no longer able to be at the game, and he obliged--with the kind of upbeat creative message I’d hope my own daughter would deliver if put in the same position.

Then a disc jockey from “Power 106” wanted to know what his favorite movie might be (“The Godfather”), the city he hates to go to the most (Salt Lake City) and how many zeros he might have in his bank account (many), and I thought to myself, “my son, my son and all those zeros.”

We’re talking about an L.A. sporting treasure here for so many years to come, and I don’t know how long it took before Chicago flipped completely for Michael Jordan, but I’m not sure we’re there yet when it comes to Kobe.

Some of that has to do with the nitpicking that has taken place the past few years. He was too selfish, too distant and now this year too edgy with everyone making a big deal out of the fact he appears to have changed.

What a revelation that was--a 21-year-old changing as he became 22, married and then 23. I recall two years ago when my older kid said she wanted to start paying for her own car insurance, and I just love it when our young ones change.

I told him I hope he continues to change, because “you really are a terrible three-point shooter.”

I say “hello” to Kevin Brown, and I usually have to duck when he begins throwing things around the Dodger clubhouse, but when I told Kobe he’s a terrible three-point shooter (making 27%), he said right away, “I’m not a three-point shooter.”

I continued to tease him, of course, and said, “My daughter could shoot better than you from three-point range,” and he gave me a huge smile and said, “Not when it counts.”

I didn’t tell him my daughter is third all-time in California high school history making three-pointers and she didn’t finish her senior season when she was on target to set the national mark. I didn’t tell Kobe she has more threes on her resume than he has in his pro career because I got to thinking about all those zeros, how much Kobe likes a challenge and how my daughter would just destroy him in a three-point shootout.

We could make such a shootout for charity--with all the proceeds being used to pay for the grocery store bagger’s wedding.

IN SPORTS Illustrated’s baseball preview issue the magazine has an opposing team’s unnamed scout size up each team. I wish I had remained unnamed when I began writing the Page Two column--then maybe I could have been critical of some of our local athletes instead of having to be so delicate in what I write.

“Eric Karros is the most putrid spring training player I’ve ever seen,” the unnamed scout writes in SI. “He never runs hard, and just mails in at-bats. Yeah, he puts up OK numbers, but have some fun.”

DODGER MANAGER Jim Tracy has announced the team’s starting lineup, placing Karros seventh in the order--two spots higher than I had projected.

WHO HAS the best chance of rebounding--Omar Daal, Mark Grudzielanek or Britney Spears?

Daal is unhappy because he’s in the bullpen now and he says General Manager Dan Evans called him the third or fourth best left-hander in the league, apparently unaware Evans has no idea what he’s saying or doing most of the time.

Grudzielanek is angry because he thinks he should be able to make an out higher in the order rather than waiting until the eighth spot.

Spears, meanwhile, got the boot from Justin Timberlake, which tells me Timberlake and Evans have a lot in common.

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TODAY’S LAST word comes in an e-mail from Andy Sais:

“Now that you’re back, I really miss those wonderful words: ‘T.J. Simers is on vacation.’ ”

That’s funny, my wife tells me she just hates those words.

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T.J. Simers can be reached at t.j.simers@latimes.com