I was the only freshman in a saxophone section full of seniors thirteen years ago. The following year, I found myself the section leader of a group of young players with minimal experience and questionable motivation. I wasn't Charlie Parker myself, but as the only person in the section who'd actually been in already, I took it upon myself to turn these kids into the best section in the band. Naturally, as a green leader who fell into the role without any real training, I didn't exactly know how to do it. My ego came out, I started blaming people for occasional lapses in judgement, and eventually I lost everyone who was supposed to be following me to my own temperament.

It occurs to me that this is exactly the thing going on with Kobe Bryant.

Let's recap a moment. The kid got drafted with the first pick, straight out of high school, and promptly got a trade to the Lakers, who touted him as their star of tomorrow. He had a lot of raw talent, made a lot of rookie mistakes, but he had a talented base of performers around him to help him out. In fact, it wasn't long before he was paired up with Shaquille O'Neal, who took a lot of the defensive load and helped Kobe learn how to play on a team. Or so you would think.

In retrospect, it seems that Boy Wonder couldn't handle the flamboyant personality of his Man of Steel teammate. Bryant apparently expected to be The Man for the Lakers, and as O'Neal got more and more points and attracted more and more attention, it killed him. The feud between the best inside-outside team in the NBA started, as you'll recall, long before the rape accusations that showed us what a sleazeball Kobe really was.

And now Kobe finds himself in the leadership position. It's what he wanted, what he thought he needed. The Lakers are his team now. But without any experience, and without the willingness to have learned how to do it by now, he doesn't know how to lead. Let's face it -- if it was anything like the basketball team at my high school, or even like the videos of St. Vincent-St. Mary with LeBron James, Lower Merion basically relied on Bryant to do everything. A kid who can jump straight to the NBA out of high school and make an impact can usually dominate an entire high school team. That's not leadership, that's just being good at hoops -- which if he's nothing else, Kobe is that.

So now that Der Wunderkind no longer has Shaq or Phil Jackson to blame for his problems, I guess none of us should be surprised that he's taking it out on everybody else. First, Karl Malone. You just don't bag on a Hall of Famer the way Bryant did, and then you certainly don't get all up in arms about a teasing, innocuous, innocent flirtation, especially for someone you claim to consider a friend. And then Ray Allen, who hasn't really said anything that everyone (at least, everyone not on the Lakers) didn't already say. Honestly, the way he's suddenly taking everything out on everybody else, at this juncture it surprises me that there are still writers defending him.

I suppose that's the major difference between myself and Kobe. (Well, that and about a hundred million dollars and any reasonable skill at basketball.) I respect the chain of seniority. It helps that it's more clear-cut when you're in high school, but it should still be obvious that an experienced center who actually played the college game and just plain knows how to work the lane is going to command more respect than an arrogant kid out of high school who's still working out the kinks in his game. I may have been third chair out of six, but even as a freshman I knew that didn't give me authority over the three juniors sitting under me.

The other big difference is simple. I grew up. I learned from experience that everything wasn't going to go my way all the time, that no matter how good I thought I was there'd be something out there I could still learn. Once out of the shelter of the protective seniors surrounding me (I never even got initiated, they were so serious about keeping me safe), I got hit with the reality of running a section pretty fast. The reality is you can't think you're the best. You have to keep being a part of the team, not some separate classification of team leader, otherwise you lose respect just about immediately.

Eventually, I learned a semblance of leadership, and that section did become the best in the band. Now that the Evil Empire days appear over for the Lakers, I genuinely hope Kobe does the same.