I still get chills thinking about that legendary Game 7 of the 2010 NBA Finals. The Lakers versus Celtics rivalry reached its absolute peak that night at Staples Center, and what made it so special was how both teams embodied that mentality Von Pessumal described - every player had something to prove. You could see it in Kobe Bryant's eyes from the opening tip. At 31 years old, with four championships already, he was still fighting to prove he could win without Shaq, to cement his legacy among the all-time greats.

The game itself was an absolute grind - the kind of basketball that would make today's three-point happy teams shudder. The score was 64-64 heading into the fourth quarter, with both teams shooting under 40% from the field. What stood out to me was how the veteran players stepped up when it mattered most. Ron Artest, who everyone remembered for the Malice at the Palace incident years earlier, was fighting to prove he belonged on that championship stage. And my goodness, did he deliver when it counted most.

I'll never forget the sequence with about a minute left. The Lakers were clinging to a 79-76 lead when Artest grabbed that crucial offensive rebound off Kobe's miss. Then came the play that still gives me goosebumps - Artest catching the ball in the corner, pump-faking, and draining a three-pointer while being fouled. The stadium absolutely erupted. That four-point play put the Lakers up 83-76 with 25.7 seconds remaining, essentially sealing the victory. What many people forget is that Artest finished with 20 points - his highest scoring game of the entire playoffs.

The Celtics had their own veterans proving themselves too. Paul Pierce, playing through various injuries, was determined to show he could still lead Boston to another championship. Ray Allen, despite dealing with bone spurs in his ankle, played 45 grueling minutes. But what struck me was how the Lakers' supporting cast outworked Boston's. Pau Gasol, who people had criticized for being "soft" in previous playoffs, grabbed 18 rebounds including 9 on the offensive glass. Lamar Odom came off the bench to contribute 7 points and 7 rebounds in 32 minutes.

Looking back at the statistics really tells the story of this defensive battle. The Lakers shot just 32.5% from the field - one of the worst shooting performances by a winning team in Finals history. Kobe went 6-for-24 from the field yet still found ways to impact the game with 15 rebounds. The Celtics weren't much better, shooting 40.8% but committing 15 turnovers that led to 16 Lakers points. The rebounding battle ultimately decided it - Los Angeles outrebounded Boston 53-40, with 23 of those being offensive boards that led to 16 second-chance points.

What made this championship so meaningful was the journey. The Lakers had lost to Boston in the 2008 Finals, and you could feel the redemption narrative building throughout the season. Kobe specifically mentioned how the 2008 loss motivated him every single day, much like how Pessumal described players having "something to prove." That mentality defined both teams throughout that grueling seven-game series where no game was decided by more than 10 points.

The final moments still play in my mind like a movie. With 13 seconds left and the Lakers up 83-79, Kobe dribbling out the clock, then launching the ball toward the ceiling as the buzzer sounded. The confetti raining down while he leaped onto the scorer's table, arms outstretched, soaking in the moment. That was his fifth championship, pulling him even with Magic Johnson in Lakers lore. The raw emotion on his face told you everything - this wasn't just another title, this was about proving he could win the big one against his archrivals.

Even now, fourteen years later, I find myself rewatching the highlights every summer. There's something timeless about that 2010 Game 7 - the physicality, the defensive intensity, the way role players became heroes when it mattered most. It represents everything great about playoff basketball, where legacy isn't just about talent but about who wants it more. That game taught me that in sports, as in life, having something to prove can be the most powerful motivation of all. The 2010 NBA Championship Game 7 remains the gold standard for what a Finals clincher should be - dramatic, hard-fought, and ultimately, legendary.