It's called "the hump," as in "We got over the hump."

It probably comes for the Sacramento Kings on Christmas Day in Los Angeles. Perhaps it will be delayed until later this season. But it's time. The Kings are about to climb the Lakers as the Pistons once did to the Celtics, as the Bulls later did to the Pistons.

Though scaling the Lakers doesn't seem as formidable now as it once did. It's not like victories over teams well below .500, as the Lakers are this season, are very meaningful. But it is the three-time champion Lakers. And as we so often hear, you can't count out the champions. We'll hear this until about mid-May when the Lakers get that "former" prefix.

	At some point this season, Mike Bibby's Kings will celebrate their rise and the Lakers' fall.

But you throw away the records when you talk Lakers and Kings. They hope you do this season. Otherwise, no one will want to watch a Christmas Day special between the second- and 11th-place teams in the Western Conference. But Lakers vs. Kings has become a rivalry, even before Rick Fox seemed to be auditioning for a Steven Seagal film in that preseason game. It is probably the last of the NBA rivalries.

Great rivalries take some cultivation, especially in this watered-down NBA era of four-games-between-teams-in-the-same-conference-each-season.

So rivalries are born in the playoffs, if one team has the misfortune of playing a better one year after year after year and being denied. Detroit was denied by Boston in 1987 in a grueling seven-game series and came just an Isiah Thomas turnover away from advancing. And then it was the Pistons' turn, and everyone could see the Celtics didn't quite have it anymore, with their stars breaking down, never to get it back again.

Likewise, the Pistons took out the Bulls in 1988 and in the conference finals in 1989 and again in 1990, but Chicago got closer each time. The '90 Bulls knew they were better, blowing out the two-time defending champions in Game 6 of the East finals and coming a Scottie Pippen Game 7 migrane away from their first Finals appearance.

The Pistons would come back for a third run not quite the same. It would be their last. Their star player, Thomas, got hurt. The role players, Vinnie Johnson and James Edwards, seemed a little older and a little slower. The bench wasn't as deep. The fire just wasn't there like it had been. They didn't scare the Bulls.

But the change didn't come the first time the teams met. It came just before Christmas during the 1990-91 season when the Pistons, not the dominant team they were, were scratching along at 14-9, third in their division and sixth in the conference. The vulnerability was apparent. But the champs had a last gasp left. They stoned the Bulls in Detroit by 21. Sure, they'd just turn it on when they needed it. It was there. But champions don't play like that, and everyone knew it.

The Bulls didn't have to wait long. Less than a week later, on Christmas Day, the Bulls won easily at home and then went back to Detroit before the All-Star Game and won again. The giant was dying. It would be a few more months before they could pronounce last rites. Champions don't go easily, and the Pistons were there again for the conference finals with gallant efforts, a decisive Game 5 win over Atlanta and overtime to take Boston out in six. There was nothing left. The Bulls swept them in the East finals and went on to their first championship.

The parallels are eerie.

When the Lakers and Kings meet Christmas Day, it's not just the renewal of the NBA's best rivalry, the continuation from the fight in a preseason game and all the offseason name calling (from Shaquille O'Neal renaming Sacramento the "Queens" to Kings comments from Mike Bibby and Vlade Divac that the Lakers were undeserving champions).

It runs much deeper. The champion is gasping, and the challenger knows it. It's like with the great boxers. They don't lose it in a fight. It's usually between fights. They win, and winners always look great, and then come out the next time and seemingly have nothing left.

And so it appears with the Lakers. There haven't been replacements to spice the recipe, and the role players seem older and slower. O'Neal has been hurt again, and there's all this talk about how they can turn it on if they need to, like they did for a quarter against the Dallas Mavericks a few weeks back.

	But the Kings know better. They know they've got them now. Will they show it Christmas Day in L.A.? Perhaps. But, probably, they don't have to. They know, like the Bulls did about the Pistons, that they are growing and the champions are holding on. So it is just a matter of time.

But the Kings know better. They know they've got them now.

Will they show it Christmas Day in L.A.? Perhaps. But, probably, they don't have to. They know, like the Bulls did about the Pistons, that they are growing and the champions are holding on. So it is just a matter of time.

This isn't quite the same Lakers team, which is clear from the 11-18 record. But there's more. There's the penury and shortsightedness of management. And, perhaps, it's hard to blame them. They've won three straight titles. Why tinker with a good thing? However, the great ones continue to look ahead and add an element to create a little internal competition and drive.

It appears the rules changes also have caught up with O'Neal and the triangle offense. By allowing zone defenses, which many teams were timid about trying or opposed to for even philosophical reasons, the Lakers didn't have to deal with them much last season. But by allowing defenders to back in and away from the ball side, it's not only slowed O'Neal, who hasn't been in great shape anyway, but it has also allowed teams to disrupt the triangle offense. The result is being able to prevent either O'Neal or Kobe Bryant to go for big games. Then one of the role players has to perform, and they haven't.

Do the Kings have an answer for O'Neal? Of course not. But they won in L.A. in last season's West finals. They thought they won twice. OK, they know they blew Game 7 at home and that they weren't ready, much as the Bulls weren't in 1990, as Detroit wasn't ready to make that inbounds pass that Bird stole. It sometimes takes that kind of disappointment -- a devastating loss that doesn't leave you for months, perhaps never -- to gain the resolve to come back and win.

The Kings will play scared now because they've seen what can happen. They'll take nothing for granted. Losing like they did built that toughness that seemed lacking. Detroit supposedly didn't have it even with Thomas, and the Bulls seemingly didn't, either, even with Michael Jordan. All they did was lose big games. Until they didn't anymore.

The Kings are deeper after making additions. They added another lively, young body with Keon Clark. Reserves Hedo Turkoglu and Bobby Jackson could start about anywhere else. Chris Webber knows he won't be going to court and can stay on it the rest of the season.

The Kings have been the foil for this Lakers' championship run with a surprising five-game loss in 2000 when neither team knew what it could do and a deadly sweep in 2001 when the Lakers ran through everyone (looking back, it didn't much matter what you did against them -- there was no stopping them). Then there was last year's classic seven-game conference finals featuring a stunning Robert Horry shot to keep the Lakers from going down three games to one. Horry's shot seemed to awaken O'Neal and give the Lakers the confidence and swagger to force a seventh game on the road, while the Kings were not quite sure they were good enough. They realized too late that they were.

It may be fashionable to dismiss and to dis the Lakers now, with the bad start, the infighting, the one-sided losses and their two-man team. They seem vulverable and a lot less frightening. But don't discount them. They could rise up on Christmas Day and win one. They could rise up again in the playoffs for a round or two. But they don't have many big victories left. The Kings figure to discover that soon enough. It begins Wednesday. But it's no holiday.

Sam Smith, who covers the NBA for the Chicago Tribune, writes a weekly column for ESPN.com.