Where to begin with the eulogy? And which Kobe Bryant are we eulogizing anyway?
There’s the player who will finish his career as one of the 10 best to ever step onto a court. The five-time champion, two-time Finals MVP, 17-time All-Star. The man who finished the 2006 season averaging 35.4 points. The ruthless competitor who emulated Michael Jordan’s path from high-flyer to dominant post player and who is likely the closet we’ll ever see to being “like Mike.”
But that Kobe Bryant disappeared about three years ago. Since then, Kobe has been the NBA version of a 95-year-old: Cranky, stubborn, and struggling to keep up with the changing times. Also, lots of cursing.
Instead of three-pointers, he jacks up mid-range jumpers. Instead of moving the ball, he would hold onto it. In Kobe’s mind the search for perfect shot ended when the ball hit his hands.
Then again, while the past few years for Bryant on the court have been, well, ugly and kind of sad, off the court they’ve been glorious. Bryant just doesn’t care about public perception anymore. It took him years to get there, but by the time he hit his late 30s, he was finally comfortable with the person he was: A one-of-a-kind athlete, but also kind of a jerk, a dude with no friends but also someone who doesn’t thinks he needs them.
This current version of Kobe has been the most likeable and fun — that is, as long as you were able to ignore all the losses and 2-17 nights. (As pointed out here, Bryant has played in 220 playoff games in his career, but none since he turned 33. He’s now 37.)
The numbers have already been parsed all over the web. No sense in going into them here. They’re ugly. We all know that. That’s why we could all sense the impending nature of this retirement announcement. For Kobe, pride was eventually going to step in.
But walking away early, like Jim Brown, was never a realistic option for Kobe. He’s always been more of a Brett Favre anyway, down to the personal indiscretions (though Bryant’s history includes more serious legal charges, albeit those that were eventually dropped).
So where does all this leave us? How do we judge Kobe’s legacy as a basketball player, an athlete, and also as a person?
On the one hand you have to admire his incessant competitive streak, and his never-wavering self-confidence. On the other, all you have to do is take a peek at San Antonio and see how there are other ways for a generational superstar to act, and how they can be just as, if not more effective.
Only time and perspective will allow us to fairly judge Bryant. Bryant’s career and legacy is too complex to boil down into one neat and tidy thought.
So, here’s what I’ll always remember:
The Afro. The 1997 Dunk Contest. The playoff air balls, and then the daggers. Carrying Smush Parker and D.J. Mbenga to the playoffs. What really happened in Colorado? The refusal to lose, except when it involved proving a point, like when he decided not to shoot in Game 7 against the Suns. The impeccable footwork. That strange scowl.
Announcing his retirement with a poem, then a few hours later missing 16 of his 20 shots and air-balling the potential game-winning three with less than 10 seconds left.
How his greatest strengths made him look weak in his final years.
Dear Basketball: https://t.co/KDecft6BO2 #KB20
— Kobe Bryant (@kobebryant) November 29, 2015
And then there’s this:
Winter break of my senior year of high school a bunch of buddies and I made our way to Miami Beach. There, we decided to imbibe the full Miami experience and visit a high class joint on Washington Avenue named Club Madonna. We were young and excited. It was most of our first times.
To our right was the stage. To our left were some flat screens showing a seemingly meaningless game between the Lakers and Raptors. It was Jan. 22, 2006. Bryant wound up hitting 28 shots from the field that night and 18 from the foul line and finishing with 81 points.
I spent more time watching Bryant that night than anything else.
