Ode to Kobe Bryant

It has been two weeks since we lost Kobe Bryant, his daughter Gianna, the Altobelli's (John, Keri, and Alyssa), Christina Mauser, Sarah Chester, Chester Payton, and Ara Zobayan. While the days have come and gone, it still becomes harder to come to terms that the man I grew up in dispising and idolizing is no longer here with us.

As a child, when you first get into watching sports, you think of them as the closest things to real-life superheroes. Basketball players can fly through the air. Football players possess unbelievable strength. Track stars are gone within a flash. Along with that thought, we tend to think that their careers will last forever. There will never be an end to watching greatness unfold before your eyes.

And that transitions into adulthood. We grow older with our favorite players and slowly come to terms that all things must come to an end. But it was not supposed to end like this.

I first started watching basketball when I was six years old. For anyone growing up in Sacramento between the 2001-02 NBA season, it was easy to get behind the Sacramento Kings. They were in my backyard, and they were a winning team sitting at the top of the western conference and the league with the best record. I didn't think anyone could beat them.

With having a love for the Kings, I also learned how to loathe our cross-state rivals, the Los Angeles Lakers. It doesn't help that I come from a Lakers family either. During the 2002 Western Conference Finals, which sits freshly in my mind, I had to take it and watch as Kobe made a statement to us by dropping 30 points and taking game 1 on our home floor. This was not going to be an easy series. Regardless, I still had hope in my team going into game 7 that we could get to the finals. It hurt losing that game in overtime and seeing Kobe walk off the court with that smile on his face on his way to his third straight finals.

That series made me root against Kobe and the Lakers every chance I got. No matter who they played, especially against my Kings, it added joy to my face to see him lose and see my team be better than them in the standings. But as time went on, and I grew up and became more involved in basketball, my loathe for Kobe turned into admiration as what you brought to the court every night.

I would be in awe of how flawless his footwork would be to keep his defender off his toes. My jaw would drop as he would take two dribbles, a pump fake and hit a fadeaway jump shot on one, two, maybe even three guys. Kobe's ability to make tough shot after tough shot, clutch shot after clutch shot better than anyone else I watched.

His game made me get out onto the blacktop with my friends and try to recreate every move he did. I wanted my footwork to be impeccable like his. I wanted to be able to take my man to the mid-post and hit a fadeaway jumper as he did.

But what made me a fan of Kobe wasn't just his playing ability; it was his approach and preparation for the game. His “Mamba Mentality”. It was his knowledge of how he saw the floor and played two steps ahead of everybody. Whenever Kobe stepped on to the court, his instinct was to kill. He never showed compassion and the only emotion he let out was whenever he was fired up, and not by trash talking. He let his game speak for itself. And he was going down swinging.

Kobe's preparation was untouchable. He decided a long time ago that he wanted to be great and he put the work in to prove it. Kobe was a workhorse. Having multiple workouts in one day, never once making an excuse as to why he was not ready to play. With the pitfalls Kobe came across, he made sure to rectify those mistakes and succeed the next time.

We always get sad whenever a star like Kobe Bryant decides to hang up his sneakers for good. Although it might feel like a good-bye, it is more of a thank you, and we'll see you again soon. I have two fond Kobe moments: the first one was during his last season; I attended his final game in the Kings' final season at Sleep Train Arena (formerly and forever known as Arco Arena). I saw more Laker fans than usual and it felt as if I was actually at the Staples Center. But it also was showing love and appreciation for the man who gave twenty years of himself to us and dedicated to becoming one of the greatest players of all-time. While my team went home with the win, Kobe put on a great show for the city in one of the few good shooting nights he had that season.

My second memory is his last NBA. I skipped a club meeting because, well, it's Kobe! I was not going to miss saying good-bye. With the shooting percentage he had all season, I didn't think that he was going to get 30 points. In the words of Shaq, "M*****f***** dropped 60."

The Black Mamba left me in awe one last time. It was truly an honor to watch greatness unfold unto my very eyes. I was excited to hear all the projects and plans he had for retirement, from story-telling to coaching Gianna's basketball team. He played 20 years in the NBA, and I was waiting to see the next 20 years of his retirement plan. I was hoping one day I was going to be able to meet Kobe and pick his brain. I was so intrigued by the man. And unfortunately, we were robbed of that.

This world now feels lonely without Kobe Bryant. The game of basketball is not the same without him. Kobe's death made everyone come to an abrupt halt, and deny that this was happening. Regardless if we knew him or not, everyone around the world in some way felt connected to Kobe Bryant. His mentality to the world inspired us to attack our challenges and strive to achieve our goals. Whether it was his highlights on the court or his knowledge learned from his interviews, in some way we learned from a deeper understanding of how to approach life.

I've done my crying and I know that there are people who are still crying. But as I look back on his old films, I smile and think to myself how fortunate I was to be able to watch him play for as long as I did. He has inspired me to chase after the same mentality to succeed as much as he did. I thank him for the drive he was able to insure into others like myself, giving life lessons to lift and inspire others and making sure we make meaningful changes on this Earth.

Thank you, Kobe. For everything. Mamba out, but never forgotten.