A couple of weeks ago, one of the best basketball players ever to live, Kobe Bryant, announced that this year would be his last. The 37 year old first ballot Hall of Famer has virtually nothing left to give after earning five NBA Finals rings, being granted two Finals MVP awards, and claiming a spot in 17 NBA All-Star games. So, what is Kobe's legacy to me?
When I was growing up, basketball was my first love. I would dribble a ball around the house at any hour of the day, no doubt pissing off my mom and breaking furniture left and right in the process. If I didn't have a ball, I would run around the house crossing-up any fools who tried to reach at the imaginary ball (my golden retriever was on the receiving end of most of these ankle-shaking crossovers). I would coordinate bi-weekly dunk contests on the Fisher Price™ hoop in my basement between me, myself, and Kobe Bryant. Kobe never showed.
In spite of his absence, I played the role of the Laker Legend.
That's the thing about being a kid, I could just close my eyes and bam -- I'm the Black Mamba.
I would jump higher, shoot better, and move faster than ever before (at least that's what it felt like). I even recreated his infamous 81 point performance against the Toronto Raptors, tediously reenacting any step back, or any reverse lay up that I couldn't perfectly replicate. I was possessed with a dream, a hunger to one day step toe to toe against my idol on the hardwood.
Since that time, my love for the game of basketball has waned. Instead of dribbling two balls up and down my driveway until the sun sets or shooting free throws for hours on end, I am lucky to find myself playing more than a few times a week. But every once in a while, I still feel that burning in my chest and long for a different life for myself. And If I learned anything from Kobe's 20-year career, I learned to persist.
Kobe has had more than a dozen separate lower body injuries throughout his career resulting in several surgeries. The average person would've retired at a half-dozen or like eight years ago. But he didn't just come back from those injuries -- he pushed through them. Whether it be draining two free throws just minutes after tearing his Achilles' tendon or willing his team to victory on two sprained ankles, he always found a way to keep going. That really resonated with me as a young athlete, and it is these lessons that were instilled in me at a very young, impressionable age.
He taught me how to dribble, shoot, win, and lose, and most importantly, Kobe taught me what it felt like to want something so bad it hurt. When dreams die and goals are unaccomplished, he taught me to keep fighting to get where I wanted to be.
Kobe didn't teach me just basketball; he taught me life.
That, right there, is the legacy Kobe Bryant will leave.
