Kobe Bryant was drafted in 1996, a year after I was born. He started playing ball at an elite level before the concept of myself as a person even existed, before I even knew what life was or how to speak. Kobe was flying before I could walk and all I could do was look in awe.
Fast forward six years, the Lakers are winning championship after championship. I was just starting to discover what it meant to be a basketball fan, a Lakers fan. My family had bought an OG Xbox game system and I was playing NBA Inside Drive 2002. I remember clearly the intro rap song and number eight with his afro performing a reverse dunk, the overhead camera providing a perfect view of the black mamba’s raw grace and power. Shaq may have been the essence of that Lakers team but Kobe was the electricity that made Staples Center buzz with excitement every night.
In 2005, Carl’s Jr. had a cross promotion with the Los Angeles Lakers where they would sell bobble heads along with a purchased meal. My family was struggling a little financially then, but I really wanted Kobe’s bobble head. My mom and I walked into the local Carl’s Jr. with one singular purpose; it didn’t work out. It turns out that Carl’s Jr. only sold a different player every week and the lady at the counter couldn’t tell us when the Kobe bobble heads would arrive. I went home with Devean George in my lap slightly disappointed.
It’s not easy to be an athlete in LA. Expectations are high, tempers more so. People remember failures and are quick to forget success. But Kobe remained Kobe. Drama and change never phased the superstar. Even as number eight became number 24, as management changed time and time again, the man never changed. The drive and tenacity that embodied Kobe never changed. Even in his later years, when his body could no longer keep up with his mental will, Kobe remained.
Kobe’s final game was the perfect way to end a career characterized by sheer determination. Every bucket, every shot was driven in by a man who wanted to demonstrate that as aging and irrelevant as he may be, he was still a 60-point scoring comeback king. In his retirement poem “Dear Basketball,” the Black Mamba writes
“And we both know, no matter what I do next
I’ll always be that kid..”
I believe him. To me, he will always be the legend that dropped 81 points in one game. To me he will always be the basketball icon of my youth. I’ve followed Kobe’s career all my life. It’s been such a strange fixture of my life, watching a gladiator grow older as I myself mature into adulthood. Thank you, Kobe.
