Remembering Kobe a year later
It's been a calendar year since the day Kobe Bean Bryant, his daughter Gianna Bryant and seven others tragically left this earth. The loss of their lives began a series of events in a tumultuous year none of us were ready for. In short, the day of their departures was 2020 incarnate: shocking, sudden and so earth-shattering none of us knew how to respond or react.
The last 366 days have been both gut-wrenchingly long and, simultaneously, faster than the blink of an eye. Kobe and Gianna headlined the tragic news, but nine total lives ended and subsequently impacted a plethora of people, who I pray are doing okay given the mountainous task they have of healing from this date last year.
Personally, this day has my spirits low and my emotions drained. Shaq made me like basketball. Kobe made me fall in love with the sport. Kobe kept me as a Los Angeles Lakers fan. Kobe was my reason for turning on the television when a basketball game was on, but most importantly, Kobe let me know it was okay to be the minority, to be disliked. Kobe was, and still remains, one of my key motivations for being great.
"Frobe" was an All-Star before he ever started for Los Angeles, and as he rose from budding super-star to a face of the association, I loved every second of it. He was unapologetically him. I still laugh thinking about him saying "I don't really care about any of them," when asked which NBA player he'd like a compliment from.
Kobe demanded greatness, and not matter how small it would be, falling short of championships drove him to another level. I missed most of Game 6 of the 2008 NBA Finals, but I got home in time to see the ending of a 39-point blowout loss. I remember Kobe walking off the court as the green and white confetti rained down in Boston, and while disappointed, I knew the loss would propel him to even greater heights. Of course, the Lakers won back-to-back titles in 2009 and 2010, getting revenge on the very same Celtics Big 3 who still lavishes over beating him.
This moment is just another instance of his elite persona. Kobe didn't forget, and he used every slight against him as fuel to launch him to greater heights. His formula became my formula.
As a journalist just one-and-a-half years in the business, I have my own struggle story to get to this point, but I never gave up no matter the avenue presented me. I saw Kobe fight and claw through a myriad of adversity and find his way into eternity for his profession. I hope to achieve his level of greatness, not just in my field but in life as well.
Kobe's care for his daughters and efforts towards promoting women sports are both things we all as men should aspire to. I hope to do my part in both aspects, especially as a father. When the time comes for me to lead my own clutter of Josephs, I hope daughters are in the mix, and I want to be a great dad they can look to for guidance, protection and proper love.
Kobe was a lot of great things, but he was also human. He made mistakes, but his life wasn't defined by them. Kobe is an example of what we should do for each other: display grace and give second chances. As he turned in number 8 to become 24, he elevated as a person, and as a player, the grace he destroyed opponents with is still something I smile and shake my head about when the thoughts pop up.
Kobe was so great he was known by just his first name. You can say Kobe to nearly anyone, and whether they're a basketball fan or not, they'd likely know who you're talking about. It wasn't just admiration for me though. It was heroism. Kobe impacted my life in so many ways...but I never thought I'd say goodbye to him before I even reached 30.
His day was traumatizing personally and led me to releasing tears I hadn't shed in years. Kobe was more than a basketball player, an icon or a famous person. He was a well known human who aspired to better himself in every way. These are reasons above all else I miss Kobe.
I miss the mentor I never spoke to; the reason basketball became one of my favorite sports; the icon I hoped my sports career would bring me towards a mutual venue of, leading to candid conversation beyond the hardwood.
It's only been one year, but it feels like an eternity. Rest in peace Kobe and Gigi. I hope you two are enjoying a peaceful eternity in heaven.
I still say your name when I shoot into the trashcan.
The last 366 days have been both gut-wrenchingly long and, simultaneously, faster than the blink of an eye. Kobe and Gianna headlined the tragic news, but nine total lives ended and subsequently impacted a plethora of people, who I pray are doing okay given the mountainous task they have of healing from this date last year.
Personally, this day has my spirits low and my emotions drained. Shaq made me like basketball. Kobe made me fall in love with the sport. Kobe kept me as a Los Angeles Lakers fan. Kobe was my reason for turning on the television when a basketball game was on, but most importantly, Kobe let me know it was okay to be the minority, to be disliked. Kobe was, and still remains, one of my key motivations for being great.
"Frobe" was an All-Star before he ever started for Los Angeles, and as he rose from budding super-star to a face of the association, I loved every second of it. He was unapologetically him. I still laugh thinking about him saying "I don't really care about any of them," when asked which NBA player he'd like a compliment from.
Kobe demanded greatness, and not matter how small it would be, falling short of championships drove him to another level. I missed most of Game 6 of the 2008 NBA Finals, but I got home in time to see the ending of a 39-point blowout loss. I remember Kobe walking off the court as the green and white confetti rained down in Boston, and while disappointed, I knew the loss would propel him to even greater heights. Of course, the Lakers won back-to-back titles in 2009 and 2010, getting revenge on the very same Celtics Big 3 who still lavishes over beating him.
This moment is just another instance of his elite persona. Kobe didn't forget, and he used every slight against him as fuel to launch him to greater heights. His formula became my formula.
As a journalist just one-and-a-half years in the business, I have my own struggle story to get to this point, but I never gave up no matter the avenue presented me. I saw Kobe fight and claw through a myriad of adversity and find his way into eternity for his profession. I hope to achieve his level of greatness, not just in my field but in life as well.
Kobe's care for his daughters and efforts towards promoting women sports are both things we all as men should aspire to. I hope to do my part in both aspects, especially as a father. When the time comes for me to lead my own clutter of Josephs, I hope daughters are in the mix, and I want to be a great dad they can look to for guidance, protection and proper love.
Kobe was a lot of great things, but he was also human. He made mistakes, but his life wasn't defined by them. Kobe is an example of what we should do for each other: display grace and give second chances. As he turned in number 8 to become 24, he elevated as a person, and as a player, the grace he destroyed opponents with is still something I smile and shake my head about when the thoughts pop up.
Kobe was so great he was known by just his first name. You can say Kobe to nearly anyone, and whether they're a basketball fan or not, they'd likely know who you're talking about. It wasn't just admiration for me though. It was heroism. Kobe impacted my life in so many ways...but I never thought I'd say goodbye to him before I even reached 30.
His day was traumatizing personally and led me to releasing tears I hadn't shed in years. Kobe was more than a basketball player, an icon or a famous person. He was a well known human who aspired to better himself in every way. These are reasons above all else I miss Kobe.
I miss the mentor I never spoke to; the reason basketball became one of my favorite sports; the icon I hoped my sports career would bring me towards a mutual venue of, leading to candid conversation beyond the hardwood.
It's only been one year, but it feels like an eternity. Rest in peace Kobe and Gigi. I hope you two are enjoying a peaceful eternity in heaven.
I still say your name when I shoot into the trashcan.