I remember those days so well. It seemed like yesterday really, but it was so long ago too. Funny how time gets away from us. I was young back then.
Michael Jordan was all the rage and every team in the NBA was looking for the next Jordan or at least a facsimile of him who would lead them to some semblance of glory that Jordan had for the Bulls.
There were some stories about Eddie Jones when he came to the Lakers. And like all Lakers fans, I was excited. I wanted the next Jordan too. And he was athletic and good. But as time went on it became apparent he was fools Jordan. And it seemed there never would be a player who combined that kind of freakish athleticism and skill.
Then came the year Kobe Bryant decided to turn pro right out of high school. And once again we heard the rumors: he looks like another Jordan. And once again I became excited. But my excitement was tempered by reality. How could there really be another Jordanesque player, and contemporary with Jordan? It seemed impossible.
As an eighteen year old rookie he played like it. He made many mistakes, had plenty of problems, playing against grown men. But there were flashes; small snippets of body control and athleticism that took your breath away….and made me wonder….and yes…it made my blood run fast with hope.
And as time went on and the kid learned the game, soaking it in, devouring it with a work ethic and desire few could equal, the results started to come in like news on an old news ticker tape…rat tat tat tat tat…never stopping now.
I remember those moments so clearly even still:
The game against Miami, on national TV, Kobe suddenly the kid no more, now more a man playing against kids as he ripped and tortured the Heat mercilessly, putting up huge numbers, impossible, twisting jump shots, contorting his body like some six foot six rubber band as he made impossible forays to the hoop, the….taking off like some space craft and meeting the hoop way up there in the air to deposit the ball with ferocious thunder or an artist’s legerdemain, whichever he chose to use at that particular moment in the sky. It was his true coming out party and as he so often did, he used a national stage to announce his greatness. And it was while watching this game that I knew, with total exact certitude, that he was the real thing, that he would become everything the rumors had whispered his rookie year.
He did not automatically start to dominate every game after that. He still was callow with much to learn. But when I saw that game, I knew the impossible had happened. The Lakers had indeed had the next Michael Jordan.
My next standout memory of him was game six of the finals against Indiana. Shaq had fouled out in the fourth quarter of a close game in Indy. A friend of mine who was watching the game with me said, “That’s it for the Lakers. It’s going to be game seven.” I turned to him and said, “No, it will end here, tonight. Kobe is going to take over and get his first ring.”
And that is exactly what happened. Nobody, nothing was going to stop that young man, in total fullness and control of his marvelous athletic gifts from achieving the dream he had harbored since he was a small boy.
I remember the game he threw up 81 points against the Toronto Raptors. As he kept up his assault, furious like an otherworldly banshee the news started to spread through the country over social media. The entire sports world seemed to stop what they were doing and tuned into watch. Every athlete from every sport riveted, just like I was on the spectacle of the art and power of Kobe Bryant. And as I watched, like everyone else, I knew I would never see anything like it again.
I remember the torture test in those second NBA finals against talented, tough Boston, on the heels of the humiliating loss for the title they had inflicted on us before. That series was for Kobe’s and Phil’s legacy. Lose it and they would forever by Celtic whipping boys. Win it and it would be the greatest championship triumph of both men’s celebrated careers. In seven heart stopping brutal games the Lakers finally pulled through, Kobe taking his most treasured title and Finals MVP.
And I remember his last game when crippled by age and injury; he seemed to turn back the clock one last time, for old times’ sake, as he threw up 60 points against Utah for his final game and win in the Staples Center. Like I said, Kobe had a way of using the national stage. And just as he did as that young kid in Miami to show us all what was to come, so he did at the very end, to remind us of what had been.
I have all these memories and more. It seems like yesterday.
Kobe was one of those people who seemed invincible to me: One of those special people made out a different substance that mere mortals are not; one of those rare people who would live to be 95 years old and look 55. A man who would still be alive long after I was gone.
But that was one chance Kobe did not get.
I was young back then, now I have grown old and Kobe Bryant, the invincible man has died.
We all will die. A friend of mine today said to me, “None of us are promised tomorrow.” That is true, as we all learned today yet again.
Some of us will die old, some young. Some will die peacefully, some in pain, some of us, most of us, will die deaths strangely, totally incongruent with how we lived our lives.
But not Kobe. When I heard how he died I realized he went out the same way he lived his life and played the game: Flying, flying, flying, soaring, soaring, soaring through the air as few men ever have or ever will. Going higher and higher as us mortals could only stand, rooted to the ground, watching, amazed.
Kobe took off from the earth to fly one last time today. There will be no more. We only have the memories now.
Goodbye kid and thanks for the ride.







