What Kobe Taught Me (2024)

This one hurts. A lot. In 1998, I was turning 9, in urban Canada where basketball hadn’t yet really broken through. All that to say that I didn’t get the chance to see prime Michael Jordan as much as I would have liked to. So, when Kobe Bryant burst onto the scene, he became my MJ, just like he did for many other basketball fans of my generation.

Kobe struck fears into the hearts of any team he played against. His competitive fire and drive to be the best Kobe he could be, pushed him to always break through his own limits. Sure, Kobe was talented, you don’t make the NBA without talent, but even more so, Kobe was always going to be the hardest working player in the league. That’s what made him a legend.

It doesn’t feel real. Kobe always felt like a superhero. He played through broken fingers and various ailments. It was like nothing could ever stop him. So how could a superhero pass away? It doesn’t feel real.

Everyone is going to remember their favorite Kobe moments. People are always going to talk about the 81-point game. They should, it’s a classic. I saw it live because it just so happened to be against my Toronto Raptors. At the time, it was painful to watch this guy completely rip an entire team apart but after it happened, it was kind of fun to be involved in a miniscule role into such a great moment in NBA history.

For me, the ultimate Kobe moment happened later in his career. When maybe Kobe couldn’t jump as high or run as quickly as before, but the muscle memory from years of greatness remained. It was the 2012–13 NBA season. The Lakers had pulled off some big moves in the previous offseason, bringing over former two-time MVP Steve Nash from the Phoenix Suns and perennial MVP contender Dwight Howard from the Orlando Magic. Consider that they already had Kobe, Pau Gasol and Metta World Peace. Expectations for the Lakers were massive.

Nash was getting older and with chronic back pain plaguing his entire career, looked like a shell of his former self. Howard, having dealt with injury issues of his own in the previous year, came to the Lakers looking different than the dominant defensive big man that had battled Kobe for a championship only a few seasons prior.

So, with two major keys to the team struggling, the burden fell on Kobe to carry the load. It wasn’t a foreign concept for Kobe and in a lot of ways, I think he preferred it when the pressure was placed solely on his shoulders. It’s in those moments when he thrived. The 81-point game, for example, came during a season in which the Lakers were basically a one-man show.

In an early March game against my Raptors, the Lakers were once again underperforming in front of their home crowd. Down to a team that was at that point, 15 games under .500, Kobe decided it was time to takeover the ball game.

That final play of the game is seared into my brain to the same extent as Kawhi’s shot against the 76ers. I remember watching this live, seeing Aaron Gray come out to double Kobe on the perimeter, and knowing we had lost the game. Of course, Kobe added a bit of razzle dazzle by summoning some of ‘Fro Kobe’s hops but the result was locked in: Kobe had singlehandedly won the Lakers yet another game.

When Kobe went into his zone, there was no way to stop him. Just look at some of those 3s he made late against against the Raptors in that game. Barely a second would come off the clock and he would have already caught the ball, released it and swished it. This was a man who knew who to methodically breakdown teams and did it on a regular basis.

That was the same season where Kobe tore his Achilles late into the year. Exhausted from pushing himself too much to will an underperforming team into the playoffs, Kobe’s body finally betrayed him in the Lakers’ 80th game against the Golden State Warriors. But not before dropping 34 points on the Warriors, including draining two free throws AFTER he had torn his Achilles. Fight through the pain, that was just the Mamba mentality.

After the Achilles injury, Kobe was never fully the same player. Of course, he was already 34 at the time of the injury and missed all but 6 games in the following campaign. It’s a statement to how great of a player Kobe had been that we would even consider he could return from this injury at that age and be back to his prime-form.

But that didn’t mean Kobe was out of Mamba moments in the NBA. Early in the 2014–15 season, Kobe came into a matchup with his favorite NBA punching bag: my Toronto Raptors. By then, Toronto had transformed itself into a playoff contender in the east, they were no longer a mediocre team to be exploited by NBA superstars, but then I guess Kobe never got that memo.

In another tight game that would need overtime, Kobe found it deep within himself to tap into that prime Kobe, if for just one night. He would end the evening with 31 points on 11 for 24 (fitting) shooting, 12 assists and 11 rebounds. On top of that, the 4–13 took home the W over the 13–4 Raptors. Just Kobe things.

We all know the story bookending to Kobe’s career. The Lakers weren’t exactly setting the world on fire for Kobe’s final seasons, but against the Jazz in his final NBA season, Kobe got to go out on top anyways. In one final show of Mamba mentality, Kobe went in and dropped 60 points. He managed to find the time to put up 50 shots, which, as anyone who’s ever played organized basketball understands, is a feat. There could have been no better NBA ending for Kobe Bryant than this moment.

But that’s just the basketball part of it. It’s more than just that with Kobe Bean Bryant. To so many of us, he represented a way of life.

People who don’t watch sports don’t always understand why we get so attached to people we’ve often never even met. Yes, Kobe was a great player who put up crazy numbers and won multiple championships. Yes, he’s one of the greatest basketball players off all-time. But that’s not the core of what drew me into Kobe and why I feel so heartbroken today.

Kobe taught me a lot about life and how to live it. The crazy stories you would hear about his legendary workouts was the stuff of legends. You could have told me that Kobe actually practiced on Mars, without any kind of space equipment, and I might have believed you. Kobe’s work ethic taught me that if I wanted to be great at something, I needed to put in the work.

All those games that Kobe played through illness or injury, broken fingers and torn Achilles, that taught me to grind through the pain. Pain is temporary, greatness lasts forever. It taught me not to get caught up with the little nagging things and keep me focus solely on the bigger picture, whatever that represented to me at the time.

You hear stories about Kobe’s willingness to talk trash and pump his own ego. That taught me to believe in myself, because if you don’t, nobody else will. Kobe was never afraid to be 100% himself and for a teenager coming of age during Kobe’s prime, that was a valuable lesson. Lord knows teenagers aren’t always the most secure in their own bodies. Kobe’s self-assuredness helped me reach that same goal.

It was more than just basketball to me. Kobe helped me model how to live my life. I wanted to shoot those turn-around jumpers like Kobe, but I wanted to have his poise under pressure too. I wanted to have that Mamba mentality he had on the court in my own life.

In those moments where I would struggle with a university course? Mamba mentality get to work, you’ll figure it out. Don’t wanna get up early this morning to get to the gym? Mamba mentality, Kobe’s been in the gym for 3 hours and he’s on the opposite coast, get your ass in the gym. Worried about this upcoming job interview? Mamba mentality. Let them know what you’re all about, they’d be fools not to hire you.

So, that’s where this profound sadness over the loss of Kobe is coming from. That’s from me, and from millions of other people just like me. Kobe inspired a generation of people on the court, but off the court too.

And yet, despite his passing, the news that hit me the hardest yesterday was hearing that Kobe’s daughter Gianna had also been on that helicopter. So too was one of her basketball teammates and that friend’s parents. They were on their way to a travel basketball game, Gianna was on a team coached by Kobe, for a league tournament, a league that Kobe had helped create. She was only 13.

As a parent, I can’t help but feel profound sadness over the loss of Gianna Bryant. This is a life that was tragically cut short before it could even begin. She hadn’t even yet gotten to high school. She had dreams of playing college ball for the UCONN Huskies and eventually, getting drafted into the WNBA.

Yes, Kobe was only 41 but he lived more in those 41 years than most of us will ever live in double that span. He’s seen the world all over. He’s gotten to represent his country in two Olympic events. He’s etched his name into NBA history as one of the greatest to ever play. His name is known the world over, from east to west. He had the chance to find love, start a family, experience all of life’s pleasures.

Gianna won’t ever get to experience any of that. She will always be a footnote in her father’s death because of his greatness. Gianna could have been a transcendent WNBA superstar, daughter of an elite NBA player, bringing the league to new glory. She might even have gotten the chance, like her father, to represent her country in the Olympics. She could have had a wonderful, beautiful family of her own. Instead, we will only remember her in passing as we remember her father and that’s just heartbreaking.

There’s no way I can begin to imagine the pain that Vanessa, Kobe’s wife, is feeling at the moment. Not only has she lost her husband, she’s lost one of her beautiful daughters. Despite the sadness she must be dealing with in this moment, she most also find a way to navigate her three other daughters’ pain and try to make sense of a situation in which sense doesn’t belong. I hope that the world can rally around them and send them as much love and support as we can.

I grieve also for the other family that lost their lives in this crash. John Altobelli, his wife Keri and their daughter, Alyssa. They leave behind a son and daughter, who are left to pick up the pieces of this tragic accident. I grieve for Christina Mauser, an assistant girls basketball coach, who leaves behind her husband and children. I grieve for Sarah Chester and her daughter Payton. For these families, I hope that they receive the same love and support than the Bryant family will receive. We mourn them and the lives that were tragically cut short.

I’ll leave you with Kobe’s own words, a poem he wrote to announce his last season and upcoming retirement, entitled Dear Basketball.

Dear Basketball,

From the moment

I started rolling my dad’s tube socks

And shooting imaginary

Game-winning shots

In the Great Western Forum

I knew one thing was real:

I fell in love with you.

A love so deep I gave you my all —

From my mind & body

To my spirit & soul.

As a six-year-old boy

Deeply in love with you

I never saw the end of the tunnel.

I only saw myself

Running out of one.

And so I ran.

I ran up and down every court

After every loose ball for you.

You asked for my hustle

I gave you my heart

Because it came with so much more.

I played through the sweat and hurt

Not because challenge called me

But because YOU called me.

I did everything for YOU

Because that’s what you do

When someone makes you feel as

Alive as you’ve made me feel.

You gave a six-year-old boy his Laker dream

And I’ll always love you for it.

But I can’t love you obsessively for much longer.

This season is all I have left to give.

My heart can take the pounding

My mind can handle the grind

But my body knows it’s time to say goodbye.

And that’s OK.

I’m ready to let you go.

I want you to know now

So we both can savor every moment we have left together.

The good and the bad.

We have given each other

All that we have.

And we both know, no matter what I do next

I’ll always be that kid

With the rolled up socks

Garbage can in the corner

:05 seconds on the clock

Ball in my hands.

5 … 4 … 3 … 2 … 1

Love you always,

Kobe

Mamba mentality forever, let’s find a way to get through this together. RIP Kobe. RIP Gianna. RIP John, Keri, Alyssa, Christina, Sarah and Payton. The world is a little dimmer without your lights to help guide us.