Lakers’ Derek Fisher delivers in the clutch -- of the huddle

La Vida Fisher.

Knowing how loco this subculture is, as Derek Fisher does, it’s still a mind-bender to find yourself written off one moment, and a hero the next . . . for saying a few words to your teammates before the fourth quarter of Game 3, when they turned the Western Conference finals around.

You’ve heard of King Leonidas and his 300 Spartans?

Meet Fish and his 11 Lakers.

Fisher’s plea, before they came from eight points down against the Denver Nuggets to win Game 3, is now known as his “This is what it’s about” speech, and ranks with, “If your arrows blot out the sun, we will fight in the shade!”

Not that Fisher expected it, after saying what he said spontaneously, because it’s what he does.

Imagine his surprise when teammates called it a rallying cry, and people began asking what his motivation was, if he writes his own stuff, and what makes him so inspirational, even if he hasn’t hit the broad side of a barn in a while.

“If I knew what it was,” said Fisher, laughing, “I’d put it on QVC for like $29.99.”

Of course, speeches deemed inspirational after the latest victory are often forgotten after the next loss.

Lore is fun, but in real life, it’s not unusual for a baseball player to visit a hospital, where a child asks him to hit a home run, so after the ball leaves the yard, Babe Ruth, et al., say they promised they’d try to hit one.

(This also applies to hitters’ vowing to take a pitcher downtown, which they do only after every at-bat.)

When Fisher made his speech, there were fans there with banners that read, “Keep Fighting,” Chauncey Billups’ rallying cry in Game 2.

The Nuggets kept fighting in Game 3 but missed 11 of 14 shots in the fourth quarter, which will do it every time.

If this story means anything, it’s a reminder of how much more Fisher means to the Lakers than his numbers -- which is fortunate, considering his numbers.

With Fisher struggling since the second round, when he took the heat for Aaron Brooks’ spectacular series amid conjecture he was through, there was still a reason to start him ahead of Jordan Farmar and Shannon Brown, even as Coach Phil Jackson was asked, delicately, if “loyalty” played a part in his decisions last week.

Knowing what that meant -- “Why is Fish still starting?” -- Jackson declined to answer.

Asked what led him to that moment in Game 3, Fisher answered, “My career.”

Actually, it’s more like his life.

Fisher goes back so far, few remember him as a 23-year-old, second-year backup to Nick Van Exel in 1998, when a crisis arose (imagine that) about their play and Coach Del Harris’ job.

With General Manager Jerry West out scouting and no one asserting any leadership -- Van Exel, of course, was all for firing Harris -- Fisher wrote a letter to his teammates, all of whom were older except Kobe Bryant, urging them to close ranks.

What Fisher did Saturday wasn’t anything he hasn’t done his whole career, because it’s who he is.

If it took this long for it to mean as much as it suddenly does, then it was overdue.

“It just jumped out, man,” Fisher said. “I don’t know, it just kind of came to me. I felt compelled to say it, as opposed to thinking it and not saying it.

“We still probably would have won the game. Things would have still happened the way they did, but I just felt they needed to hear it and I wanted to say it.”

Not that the Lakers didn’t need it and everything else, tangible and spiritual, riding a razor-thin line through this postseason and this series.

With two or three fewer remarkable plays by Bryant -- like the three-point shot he made over J.R. Smith at the end of Game 3, after Smith got the ball, or Kobe’s arm, as he went up to shoot -- the Nuggets could be up, 3-0.

Most players couldn’t have hit the rim. Bryant just did one of his midair jackknifes and made one of his routinely unbelievable shots.

“I would like to say I meant to do it, but to be honest with you, the shot was going short,” he said.

“Then he [Smith] got the ball, arm, whatever, and I had to put a little bit more effort into the shot, had to kick a little bit more into it.

“And so it went in.”

At 0-3, Lakerdom would have been chanting two words, and it wouldn’t have been “Keep fighting!” but “Jason Kidd!”

Bryant was so exhausted after the game, he sagged against a wall outside the interview room, asked to sit down, and later received an IV.

Ask the Spartans, er, Lakers, it’s not a job, it’s an adventure.

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mark.heisler@latimes.com