Dear Kobe

Image: Kent C. Horner Photography

Dear Kobe,

I never realized how much you meant to me until I found myself crying in my bathroom hours after your death. The truth is, you were a huge part of my childhood.

A few months ago, I impulsively donated a couple of pairs of your signature shoes thinking I was done playing basketball. But your death made me instantly regret that decision.

I asked my parents to find my “Black Mamba” t-shirt somewhere in my room and set it aside for when I came home. Later that night, a friend and I decided to wear all black then drive to the nearest gym to shootaround in silence. Neither of us could think of a better way to honor you and your legacy.

You were the reason I picked up a basketball again after months of not stepping on a court.

As a New York Knicks fan, I despised you. You’ve held the record for most points scored by any opponent in Madison Square Garden (61 points) since 2009. On the other hand, I’ve always admired you from a distance, not only for your impossible shot-making abilities but also for your tenacity as a defender.

But I’ll let the rest of the world praise your unmatched work ethic, the Mamba Mentality, because I gained a few life lessons from you as I watched you grow.

As a 17-year-old, you were the best high school player in the country. Then, the NBA put you at the dead center of the Los Angeles spotlight with grand expectations.

8 points, 2 rebounds, 1 assist, 1 steal, and almost zero blocks. Those were your rookie season averages, remember? You struggled and I don’t blame you, because no matter how talented you were, you were just a kid.

The world knew you wanted to be the best and you weren’t shy about telling us all that. We knew you wanted to be “like Mike” and it was obvious through your style of play that you studied him well.

You were a teenager with tunnel vision and the light at the end of your tunnel was greatness. 20 years and 5 championships later, I remember watching your last NBA game live against the Utah Jazz from my couch. Shaq challenged you to score 50 points that game, and you scored 60. You and I both know you weren’t done because you still weren’t the greatest of all time, Michael was. What I didn’t realize back then was that you had no choice but to quit.

In “Dear Basketball”, you shed some light on my mixed emotions from that day. One stanza stood out to me in particular:

“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 okay. I’m ready to let you go.”

From your torn Achilles tendon to your fractured knee, your injury-plagued body was a humble reminder that every superstar athlete is just as human as I am. I’m sorry I overlooked your injuries, but growing up you appeared to be superhuman, so your retirement felt bittersweet.

The next chapter of your life brought the artist out in you. I’ve always been enamored with the film industry’s ability to convince us of something they’re not with each film. However, you decided to create from the truth and share your life’s story through a four-minute animation.

As the first professional athlete to win an Oscar, you taught me that with any creative endeavor, nothing beats being honest and genuine. In fact, that’s the guiding principle for my entire blog.

Your love and passion for your family and children, in general, was a pleasant surprise, a side of you I didn’t expect to see. I especially envied your relationship with Gianna.

Hearing stories about you coaching her basketball team and watching videos of you two talking court-side at NBA games made the idea of being a father and having a daughter seem exciting.

Also, I’ve heard you published a few children’s books recently? I’ll be sure to share them all with my own children someday. I know The Alchemist was your favorite book so it didn’t surprise me to hear you were working with Paulo Coelho on yet another publication too. Unfortunately, he’s deleted your draft because to him it didn’t make sense to publish without you. As disappointed as I am about that, I agree with his decision.

Lastly, I admire what you did for Vanessa. I understood you were fluent in Italian because you were raised in Italy, but what I didn’t know was that you became fluent in Spanish because you married a Latina. That act, to become closer to her and your mother-in-law, was endearing. Your gesture showed me that love isn’t just an emotion, it’s also an action and a commitment to those that matter.

You didn’t just shut up and dribble, you inspired. I want you to know that the “Black Mamba” was never my favorite nickname of yours, it was “Vino”. I learned years ago that, with its roots in Spanish and Italian, it meant you aged like fine wine as a human being. I hope I grow to be as well-rounded as you were.

Thank you for teaching me to never let my career define me.

I won’t cry anymore knowing that you’re gone, instead, I’ll smile because you were here. Rest in peace Kobe Bryant, Gianna Bryant, John Altobelli, Keri Altobelli, Alyssa Altobelli, Christina Mauser, Ara Zobayan, Sarah Chester, and Payton Chester.

Sincerely,

SG