BEAN

Never would I ever have thought that my last image of Kobe Bryant would come so soon. On December 21st, 2019, I traveled to the Barclays Center with my brother to watch the Brooklyn Nets take on the Atlanta Hawks. This was a game we had marked on our calendars, as we wanted to see Trae Young play in-person. As we approached our seats, we could see a man wearing a beanie sitting with a young lady near the Nets bench. At the moment they stood up and wandered to center court to greet Dominique Wilkins we knew it was Kobe Bryant and his daughter, Gianna. My brother crept down towards the floor to flash a picture of the two greats, which now holds that much more meaning. Later, we would find out that they were in attendance because Gianna’s favorite player was Trae Young and she wanted to watch him live, just as we did.

On Sunday afternoon, as I do when I watch most basketball games, I sat on the couch and scrolled through Twitter during commercial breaks to catch the initial reactions of whatever game I’m watching. A few Tweets caught my eye; variations of phrases like “this can’t be real” and “please tell me this is some sick joke” filled my timeline. After further investigation, I came across the TMZ report announcing that Kobe Bean Bryant had died in a helicopter crash. Like many others, I did not believe what I was seeing. I popped up and, while almost scoffing at the reports, read it aloud to my friends in the room with me—all of whom thought I was reading “fake news.”

It was one time I wished for fake news.

Less than a month ago, the NBA lost Commissioner Emeritus David Stern. As I sat down to write my thoughts on his legacy to basketball, and sport in general, I struggled—I felt that his impact could not be captured and justified through words alone. This past Sunday, January 26, 2020, those feelings were only heightened by the death of Kobe and his young daughter Gianna.

Gutted. Devastating. Bone-chilling. These are the feelings that come to mind as I’ve tried to digest a seemingly unswallowable pill. As a result of his father, Joe Bryant, Kobe first picked up a basketball when he was two years old. Basketball gave Kobe what he gave to the game—everything—which made him seem like an immortal figure.

The Lakers have such an iconic history—Jerry West, Wilt, Kareem, Magic, Shaq. For those of Generation Z, born in the late 90s, like me, Kobe Bryant was the Lakers. Like few athletes in my lifetime, given the transient nature of sport, Kobe was a Laker-lifer. Both of his numbers were retired by clearly one of the most storied franchises in all of sports. He gave 20 magical years and became a symbol for the city of Los Angeles and athletes around the globe, epitomizing an incredible work ethic, perseverance, and a will to be better than the next person in line—his Mamba Mentality—a mentality that made Bryant a hero for the younger generation of players in the NBA today, not to mention other athletes around the world and across the spectrum of sport.

Aside from the championships and endless accolades Kobe achieved on the court, there is a more fascinating aspect to his career that I noticed when I first started watching NBA games. At every NBA game there are pockets of fans who root for the visiting team. However, whenever Kobe’s Lakers played on the road, I found that these fans were not necessarily cheering for the purple and gold. Instead, they were donning #8 or #24 and rooting for Kobe. He was the first American basketball player that I saw whose fan base transcended team and permeated the globe.

Many athletes speak about their anticipation of, and excitement about, life after they’re done playing. Kobe was no different; another crushing aspect of his death is that he was just beginning to tap into his acumen off the court. He opened a sports facility to help young athletes unlock their full potential. He built an investment portfolio of over $2 billion in assets. He won an Oscar. And, most of all, he was fulfilling his most important role as a father to four daughters and a husband to Vanessa.

Few athletes are able to be more successful “outside the lines.” Kobe was well on his way.

Few prodigies live up to their expectations. Kobe exceeded his.

Kobe wasted no time to first give notice and then achieve greatness, which is a beautiful part of his life. If he had the chance to provide one last piece of wisdom, I think it would have been to attack each day and to give everything you have to things and people you love because life is too short to do otherwise. I plan to take heed.

So, next time you’re at your desk and are ready to throw out that used piece of note paper, make sure to crumble it into a ball, lean back in your chair, flick your wrist, and follow through just as you would with a basketball, while chanting “KOBE!”—remember him and smile as you envision and listen for the “swish.”

May the legend and legacy of Kobe Bean Bryant live on forever.

Rest in Power Kobe Bryant.

Rest in Power Gianna Bryant.

Post Script:

While I read through people’s initial reactions to the shocking news of Kobe Bryant’s death, many were left uneasy with the way in which it was being reported. At first, the reports were not confirmed by the most credible sources, which brings up an important question: what is the consequence of too much information? These days there seems to be a higher value placed on being first, rather than being true. Given the information age we are in and the instant access we have, those reporting have a moral and professional responsibility to be truthful and respectful for those immediately affected and the public in general—a principle in reporting that should never be compromised.