To that, my question is: where were you on the afternoon of Jan. 26th, 2020? Spending time with loved ones? On a flight? In an Uber? Working? Browsing through your social media feeds? Irrespective of where you were, one thing is certain: the death of Kobe and Gigi Bryant caused you to pause and say, WTF, this can’t be real.
On the afternoon of Jan. 26th, 2020, in New York local time, I was one of millions who mourned deeply for the death of someone I grew up with. Not directly. No. Not someone who knew what I looked like or what my family was like. Someone I came to love as a fan, professionally employed by an organization I was fortunate to share my childhood and community with. I am the least significant voice on Kobe’s death you’ll read about but I wanted to share my thoughts as someone who is literally in tears writing these very words.
When news broke that Kobe had passed in a tragic accident during a birthday brunch I was having with friends, I found it strange that I had to wash my uncontrollable tears away in a tiny bathroom stall. I never met this man although, he did follow me on Twitter for a brief period, so when I randomly received a text, WhatsApp message or FaceTime request from people I hadn’t spoken to in years, sending me condolences, all with a similar message: “sorry for your loss, I was thinking of you”, it was the strangest feeling being consoled for something I thought I had no agency with. His death shouldn’t mean this much to me but for some strange reason it does. I can’t exactly explain it but there was an element to his human self that resonated with me (and many others I presume) which transcended basketball. Then it hit me: I spent my childhood, good and bad, around this man’s career.
For 18+ years, I followed Kobe’s iconic career. Growing up in Los Angeles, it was impossible not to be in Kobe’s shadow, fan or competitor. I watched him score 81 points, outscore the Mavs in 3 quarters, pass to himself, spin and bucket on the way to 61 against the Knicks at the Garden, saw him at Skid Row during his homeless rehabilitation initiatives. I also got to witness him go through the lone blemish on an unfortunate night in Colorado in an otherwise, perfect career. When times were rough at home, the small moments of catching a Lakers game on tv or in person meant the world to me. I didn’t realize it at the time. How could I? It was unconscionable to think these moments were limited. I got a chance to witness one of the NBA’s greatest players perform at peak level. He was so confident in everything he did. Every shot he took, it seemed like it would go in. On Kobe’s last game, he started 0-5 but then went on to score 60. He could’ve shot 6 for 24 or 12 for 15, but every time he had the ball in his hands, you knew that the next shot, rainbow and all, was going in with the growl to match. He performed at peak levels with dislocated fingers, broken bones, ailments biologically prohibiting physical acts normal human pain tolerances .
So for an ICON who was a massive control freak, who seemed unfazed by anything, to lose him like this with his daughter in arms, in a situation beyond his absolute control, was devastating. It is even more so to think of the wife who lost her husband she’s known for nearly half her life and the young kids who lost their father and sister and a city which lost a celebrated ICON. To watch the Jimmy Kimmel interview and how Kobe spoke up his daughters was a testament to the next phase in Kobe’s life. The highlights of Gigi Bryant were viral sensation for a reason: she was the female embodiment of a young Kobe, who had the promise of crafting his own unique story.
