LOVE ’EM or HATE ’EM WE’LL ALL MISS KOBE

A tale of two careers. From #8 to #24. How the Black Mamba unleashed his venom on the NBA, why he’s hated and why there won’t be another player like him.

And with the 13th pick in the 1996 NBA draft the Charlotte Hornets select… the rest is history.

You see, Kobe, didn’t want to be like Mike. He didn’t want to run the break like Magic. He didn’t want to shoot it like Bird. He didn’t want to dunk like Shaq, hell he didn’t even want to play with him. Kobe didn’t just want to be great, he wanted to be legendary. If being legendary meant being an asshole sometimes, Kobe didn’t care. If being legendary meant by being disliked by his teammates, Kobe didn’t care. Legendary isn’t easy, Kobe just made it look easy.

I once met Kobe in the tunnel of the Meadowlands arena after a then New Jersey Nets game. I was interning for Dime Magazine, a lifestyle magazine for basketball players. Luckily as an intern, I was able to attend both Knicks and Nets home games. My task? Ask Kobe about the types of playgrounds he grew up playing ball in. What was it like ballin’ in Philly?

After an off night, with just 21 pts on 4 for 13 shooting and the Lakers squeaking by with a 99–95 win, Kobe would likely be in a terrible mood. Or at least I thought he’d be. I remember walking around the Lakers locker room timid, not knowing how to approach or even ask the man for a few seconds for an interview.

I walked around killing time, asking his teammates the questions I originally planned on asking Kobe. Smush Parker, remember him? Luke Walton, Lamar Odom. After a while I thought well, if I stick around the locker room long enough I’ll eventually get to Kobe. Nope. Time ran out and all media personnel were kicked out of the locker room. I left and waited near the team bus. Minutes later there he was. Kobe just chopping it up with Vince Carter. See this was more than just some random interview about growing up playing street ball.

For me, it was about meeting one of the best players in NBA history and getting a feel for what he’s like. With a cloud of rape allegations hovering above Kobe’s image (allegations that were eventually dropped), I wondered if his personality reflected anything that the media portrayed him to be. Was he an asshole?

Nervous as shit I walked up to Kobe and asked if he had a few minutes to talk to Dime Magazine. He sensed the nerves and quickly picked up that I was a bit star struck. I don’t know what gave it away, my stuttering or me fumbling the voice recorder.

He placed his arm on my shoulder and said, “Yeah man let’s do it”. That was easy, I said. The subtlety of him kind of patting me on the back put things at ease. I proceeded to throw some questions at him, it took about 3 minutes. I thanked him. As I began to walk away he noticed I was holding a copy of Dime Magazine with him on the cover. He grabbed it and signed it. Of course, I wanted to ask for an autograph. How couldn’t I. But I didn’t want to lose my “journalistic integrity.”

This was one of the many things that made Kobe so great. His sense of awareness. Often times you meet a celebrity or someone you admire and you’re disappointed. The only disappointment I had was the fact that the world didn’t get to see this side of Kobe.

I’ll always look at Kobe’s career as somewhat incomplete. As he walked on the Staple Center floor for the last time, as he grabbed his last rebound and scored his final point, I’ll always wonder what if.

What if Colorado never happened? What if he got along with Shaq? What if the Hornets never traded him?

Thankfully we don’t live in a world of “what if’s”. The script is written.

Personally, though, I don’t think we ever got to see the absolute very best of Kobe. His career didn’t align the right way. What I mean is, Kobe #24 was a better fit for the Shaq led Lakers. Kobe #8 was a better fit for the back-to-back run with Gasol and co. Looking back at the 3-peat run with Shaq in the early 2000’s, I’d love to go back and see Kobe lead those Lakers teams without Shaq. Maybe he only wins one or two championships, maybe he wins none. (Obviously, we’d have to fill the Shaq void with a star type of player). I’ll always wonder if we ever got to see Kobe at his absolute best, with the right pieces around him at the right time? No, I don’t think we did.

And then last night happened. Kobe took his final curtain call not at his best, not with the right pieces around him and still bowed out with a memorable performance. 60 points! How did we not see this coming? I didn’t. I was just hoping he didn’t turn an ankle and have to finish his last game on the bench due to injury. I just wanted him to get by and leave on his feet.

Kobe did just that. He left on his feet. The same two feet that undressed the Raptors for 81 points. The same two feet that followed that game up with a 62-point effort (in 3 quarters) against the Mavericks. The same two feet that brought him 5 championships, two NBA final MVP’s, one league MVP. How does he only have one league MVP trophy? Howwww? That’s a whole other story.

Accolades drive all great athletes. Kobe had his fair share of them. But the Mamba was a different animal. Above all the achievements, rings, accolades, what drove Kobe wasn’t just sheer determination or passion or his competitiveness. Kobe was driven by love. A deep love for the game and a deep love from the fans. Kobe admittedly or not, wanted to be appreciated by the fans really really badly. And not just his fans. All fans. He wanted to be genuinely loved by us, the fans of the game he loved. And that’s… well that’s ok.

Love ’em or hate ’em, we’ll all miss you Kobe. “Mamba out”.