A Kobe Tribute
About 25 minutes ago, my mom called and explained Kobe Bryant had been killed in a helicopter accident. I cannot remember the last time I’ve been this stunned. It feels like stepping into unexpectedly cold shower water with no way out. This is not what American conceptions of death look like. My inner portrait of dying illustrates a weak, elderly, long lived man or woman who slowly declines in a hospice bed with family saying their last goodbyes. But the picture that floods my brain of a childhood hero, a basketball god, a man that seemed larger than life literally crashing and burning in a matter of seconds seems unthinkable. An unbelievable life comes to an unbelievable end.
Memories of his impact on my pursuit of basketball are endless. Everything to my style, my game, my clothes, my shoes, even my music was influenced by Kobe Bryant. The 2012 Nike Zoom Kobe VIII’s were my favorite pair of shoes I ever owned; I felt invincible with them on. Wearing the “Mamba” gear when I played or practiced gave me a deeper sense of basketball purpose and work ethic. My generation popularized the legendary word “Kobe!” shouted every time someone shot a paper wad into a trashcan or took a game winner at the park. Hundreds of hours were spent in the driveaway practicing and pretending his iconic turnaround jumper with Lil Wayne’s “Kobe Bryant” rap track blaring from my iPod shuffle. Watching the Black Mamba inspired a deep reverence in me for the game of basketball. There was a real seriousness to his mentality that took the game to a level not many had gone before. Etched in my mind is watching live Kobe’s 40+ performance and game winning fadeaway against the Phoenix Suns in the 2006 playoffs. I’ll never forget the posterized buzzer-beater of Kobe over Dwayne Wade; that poster hung on my teenage bedroom the next day. In the frenzy of celebration after the game winner over Wade, Jeff Van Gundy, the game’s commentator, remarked “that is just greatness personified.” Indeed, Kobe Bryant, for my generation, was greatness personified.
The man was a talent this world had hardly ever seen, but more than that he embodied a work ethic the world did not know was possible. His legendary routines and habits raised the bar for every aspiring athlete. In high school and beyond he would show up to practice two hours early and leave two hours late. 400 MADE shots had to be counted before he left the gym. There are countless legends of his practice tenacity and commitment to working on his game when no one was looking. An NBA scout in 2008 was quoted saying, “Allen Iverson loves to play when the lights come on. Kobe loves doing this **** before the lights come on." Kobe made working hard something to be proud of. He could not stand the “lazy but talented” mindset, and called athletes to a higher standard with his words and his work. Bryant, in his own words said, “I can’t relate to lazy people. We don’t speak the same language. I don’t understand you. I don’t want to understand you.” I remember specifically pushing myself to work on my game in the rain, in the cold, or early in the morning simply because I knew Kobe was out there doing the same thing. I thank Kobe Bryant for pushing himself; it pushed me and many others forward, and popularized work ethic over privilege.
Bryant was never shy of speaking his mind, and was blunt about what it takes to accomplish greatness. He once said, “If you want to be great at something, there’s a choice you have to make. What I mean by that is, there are inherent sacrifices that come along with that. Family time, hanging out with friends, being a great friend, being a great son, nephew, whatever the case may be.” The honesty there is admirable; Kobe accepted the reality that if he was to be the greatest basketball player, then he would not be the greatest father, friend, or neighbor. To be truly great in one area creates weakness in other areas.
Here is where I found myself ashamed this afternoon. I was happy, even inspired, to watch Kobe Bryant sacrifice his body, family life, and soul to the game of basketball in pursuit of god status. I always cheered, but never prayed. I was always in awe over his career, yet never despaired over his spirit. Unintentionally Kobe became a lion in the arena which was exalted during the performance, but forgotten after each fight. He wasn’t real. A man with athletic dominance, unimaginable wealth, world renowned stardom, beautiful wife and children. He was everything men aspire to be, yet he was equal to all men in the sight of God. His greatness blinded me to his neediness. Shame on me. He needed the gospel; He needed a church, a pastor, a Christian who would see past that. I know nothing of Kobe Bryant’s personal acceptance or rejection of Jesus Christ, but I do know it probably would not have been me to give him the message. I was starstruck; His kind of life would have never been one I could speak to with the words of Jesus, “For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it.”
The thought still seems unthinkable; a man with the world at his fingertips was burned and extinguished like a blade of winter grass today. Envy would be an understatement of how I have viewed Kobe Bryant over the years, yet now I do not envy him at all. Instead of wanting to be like him, I should have wanted to be for him. His life, as incredible as it seemed, was still a vapor. There was a person behind the “greatness personified” which needed a Savior. What a dreadful day when God reminds me of my frail humanity by the death of one of the strongest humans to walk the planet. Indeed, a somber moment it is to know that basketball gods are not God. Sadly, this tragedy brings about repentance in me; repentance for the wicked consumerism I feast on that leaves the bones of sports heroes. I have exalted this creature over his Creator, and in the process never once pleaded for his greatest obstacle: salvation.
My Prayer,
Father, forgive me. I have sinned against this man and You. I took all he had. I became a worshipper of man, and a selfish consumer. I repent for never once asking for Kobe Bryant’s soul while interesting myself in all other aspects of his life. I repent for not seeing him as a person, as a sinner, as a man in need of a Savior. I imagined strength where there was weakness. I imagined his immortality and ignored his mortality. May I remember the souls of those that entertain me. May I pray for their hearts before I prop them up as heroes. May I see men as they really are: in humble need of God who gives and takes away.