Dear Kobe

Dear Kobe,

From the moment I saw you with the sunglasses on your forehead joking about taking your talent to the NBA, I could tell you were going to be something special. A little later you took Brandy to your high school prom. You were a star before anyone knew you.

ABC30.com

It wasn't really arrogance, but it was more than confidence. It was faith. Faith in yourself. Faith in your will being deeper and stronger than everyone else. Faith that you would get where you wanted to be simply because you wanted to be there. Outside distractions, outside influences would not be an impediment. You never hid your intelligence or thirst for knowledge but you did it with a bravado and edge that we had never seen before. While Allen Iverson was always loved for keeping it real because of the hard life he had come from, you were able to keep it real in a different way, but no less...real.

BleacherReport.com

To be honest, it took me a long time to be able to write this. I took notes, but to sit down and actually write it was impossible. It's now 4 weeks since you passed and it's still hard to write this. You see, I'm a diehard Laker fan. So while I knew you would be something special during that high school press conference, I didn't know how much of a role you would play in my life. I didn't know you would be a Laker. Then Jerry West traded Vlade Divac for you. I remember watching you for the first time, and your game was as smooth as a cue ball. It looked effortless to you, it looked like you were born to play the game of basketball. I knew from then on, whenever the Lakers were on TV, I would have to watch. And for 20 years, you made it appointment TV. As a Laker fan from New York, that meant a lot of late nights, and later on when I paid for my own cable, it meant paying extra for NBA League Pass so I wouldn't miss a game. It meant I had to see you at least once in MSG and Staples Center. I literally flew across the country to see you live in your last season in the house that you built. I went from the age of 13 to the age of 33 during your career. It feels like I grew up with you. Those years in a person's life are endless change, but you were one of the constants. I got my driver's license, you were there. I lost my grandparents, you were there. I graduated high school, you were there. I gained a niece, you were there. I graduated college, you were there. I started a career, you were there. I lost a step-father, you...were there. Now people may think it's funny for me to say you were there because we've never met, but when you're as big a fan as I am, there is a relationship. We share in the successes and we certainly feel the failures. And being there 20 years, you're the biggest individual part of that connection that I ever had. You once said, "sport is the greatest metaphor we have for life and its important that we treat it as such." So you of all people, would get it.

NYTimes.com

On January 26, 2020 at 2:34 pm I got a a text of a screenshot of an article that you died. My heart immediately dropped but I simultaneously scoured the internet only to find this TMZ article about it. I clicked on it and TMZ was having technical difficulties so I had hope that they were hacked. Then another source reported it, but referenced TMZ so I still had hope. I wasn't going to believe it until I had to. Within a half hour I had given up hope that it was a false report. I turned on CNN and just sat there with a 1000 yard stare. I was watching but not really there. Soon after, I found out your daughter, Gianna was in the helicopter with you. I was numb. Condolence messages from friends and family came in, as people knew how much of a fan I was. My family and I all wore purple and gold the day after to honor you. The first few days felt like weeks. I was surprised that it hurt this bad. How can it hurt this bad when we've never even met? I mean, we've only been in the same building twice. It's legitimate grief that came in waves just like when I've lost loved ones. The night of your death, I watched your Spike Lee documentary and at the end there was a part where you were talking about how Gianna was the biggest daddy's girl in the world. It strangely gave me solace to think that you would forever be together. But then I thought about those final moments. As a fellow parent all you want to do is shelter your children from harm, but I could not imagine what those last seconds were like. We know we're relatively powerless to the destruction that this world can bring, but we hope we can give consolation when possible. I hope the terror was short and that it brought Gigi a sense of security being with you at the end. I thought about all of these things...constantly. A couple days after you passed, I watched your documentary "Muse." There was something you said that made me lose it all over again and is misting my eyes as I type. You said "As a parent, the first thing that comes to mind when you see their afraid, you want them not to be afraid, you want to give them strength, you want to give them courage, you want to reassure them." I pray that you were able to reassure Gigi. A few days later, I heard JA Adande on Bill Simmons, podcast talk about how he kept seeing a video of Gianna pushing you off her and sinking a bucket and for a second he forgot and thought to himself at least she can keep on the legacy. Then he remembered. I had those exact same feelings every time I saw that video. And I still sometimes forget, just for a moment when I see your videos and it brings me back to those times. As I said before, at first I was surprised how much this hurt, then I saw the public's response. This is quite possibly the single biggest reaction to a celebrity's death that I've ever seen in my life. I had conversations with people who I wouldn't have thought would care. I saw people post wonderful things. I saw your wife, Vanessa, stay amazingly strong for not only your other daughters, but for all of us. You have an amazing woman right there. Jay Will had a moment on TV  that left a great impact on me. The tragedy of your death has strangely shown the capacity for compassion that we as a people can have. I realized that millions and millions of people felt that same relationship that I felt I had with you. You may have passed at the young age of 41 years old, but you certainly lived a full life.

ESPN.com

The nights after your passing, I consumed your documentaries, various online videos, and I watched the replay of your last game. The reasons people admired you were scattered throughout them all. You became synonymous with hard work and always giving your all. The Muse documentary brought me back to when you tore your Achilles but still shuffled your feet to the free throw line to sink those two free throws withstanding unimaginable pain. I remembered when that same injury ended Isaiah Thomas' career and I immediately thought that was it for you. But then you said you would come back. After you vowed to return, I NEVER doubted you because that's who you were. That faith you had in yourself at the age of 17 was still there at age 34 and beyond. In your last game, you had told Byron Scott that you would play 32 minutes, but you blew past that scoring 60 points and leaving it all out there on that Staples Center floor. The funny thing is, I felt like I mourned you at the end of that game. I knew my life would never be the same even if it was actually the end of YOUR basketball career. But once you passed, I realized I hadn't mourned you then. I had merely been selfishly sad to see you transition to a new chapter of your life that wouldn't include me as much. When you won the Oscar, I was proud. You had taken that faith and work ethic to a new avenue and garnered equivalent success. When I heard about your coaching Gigi and instilling that work ethic in her,  I was prouder. A new generation of Mamba Mentality. You became a true renaissance man.

I'm touching this up just minutes after yours and Gianna's Celebration of Life at Staples Center and I'm thinking about how your legacy will live on. How the silly game of yelling "Kobe" when shooting anything from a basketball to a candy wrapper will be played for generations. How people are petitioning for you to become the NBA logo. How the All Star Game MVP trophy is now known as the Kobe Bryant All Star Game MVP trophy. How your awareness of those before you, turned into mentoring those after you as the NBA AND WNBA are now bursting with your influence. I could go on forever, but unfortunately, I'm afraid it's time to say goodbye. Goodbye and thank you for everything Kobe Bean Bryant!

Sincerely,
BFox

PS:
RIP Alyssa Altobelli
RIP John Altobelli
RIP Keri Altobelli
RIP Gianna Bryant
RIP Kobe Bryant
RIP Payton Chester
RIP Sarah Chester
RIP Christina Mauser
RIP Ara Zobayan