Hey Kobe
Hey Kobe,
We never met. None of us have. This isn’t from me, it’s from the world — everyone who shared the story, shed the tears and without ever watching a single game felt the impact of a moment we all sunk in.
My mom probably couldn’t tell you anything about Kobe Bryant outside of being a basketball player, but every time I threw a paper ball into a trash can she knew exactly what I meant when I said your name.
I’m not even your biggest fan. No where close. I spent 20 years down playing your greatness, ask my buddy Chris. But as I sit here writing this there’s things that sink more and more about the person that you were that all of us carry without maybe ever noticing.
I turned 24 years old the day before the accident. I posted on instagram a caption about living my Kobe year. I drunkly told everyone at the club the next 365 days were living with a Mamba Mentality.
Then I woke up from a nap, looked at my phone and sat up in disbelief.
Here’s the crazy thing — I had such a hard time putting this together. Words flowed so effortlessly to praise you but it didn’t feel deep enough. Maybe there weren’t enough tears shed or enough emotion behind my words, even if I felt every knot that turned in my stomach as I wrote it.
Then it hit me. 20 years of shooting shirts into a hamper wasn’t about basketball. Anyone could’ve started yelling Jordan or LeBron, Magic or J. What it was was recognition, admiration for a person the entire “normal” world knew nothing about — but knew how powerful of a human you were.
Kobe Bryant’s not about basketball. Kid’s across the globe don’t wear his shoes because of games they never saw. My kids won’t yell Kobe when shooting off the baseline because of a man they lived 10 years after.
Kobe Bryant meant what the world knew him for — a mentality.
People don’t talk about you and mention career highs or game-winning shots. When your name is mentioned it’s behind foul shots made with a torn achilles, 3 am workouts, the most badass non-flinch of all time, and 61 points behind a body that couldn’t do it anymore.
I bet half the world doesn’t even know Mamba is an actual snake. What they do know is what it means when it’s associated with your name.
An entire world worships you. AN ENTIRE WORLD. That doesn’t just happen on the court.
In 20 years the world learned of Kobe Bryant, and what we learned is what happens when you truly put 100% into something. Not just one thing, either. Kobe was never known for just being a baller, he was known for being a great, great friend, husband, father and still finding the will to put everything he could into something he wanted to be great at.
We aren’t crying because it just doesn’t feel right. It’s because in the back of our minds we just have this feeling that Kobe — that you — want us to be strong.
I’m 24 years old. For the next 365 days I’m going to live my “Kobe Year”. But for the rest of my life the Mamba Mentality isn’t just a saying — it really never was. Without even realizing it, so many of us learned how to grow into the person we strive to be. How to work and care and be respectful without any excuses.
Kobe Bryant was a figure a lot of us knew literally nothing about, and yet, learned a lot about becoming a man, woman, strong person because of.
Thanks, Kobe. Thanks for way more than basketball.
