The Loss of a Legend

posted 1/26/2020

How does this happen?

How does someone so beloved by so many leave this world so suddenly? How does a father and his young daughter on their way to her basketball game never make it there? How does a man who had so much in his life with so much life yet to live suddenly stop living?

The answer is, I don’t know. But it has. And it’s beyond awful.

I grew up in a household that bled purple and gold. Everyone had Laker gear somewhere either on their person, their car, their desk at work, on in the case of my mother, a lacquered table built with remnants of a poster that hung on my wall. My fondest Lakers memories are of the Showtime era. Magic Johnson, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, James Worthy, Pat Riley, Jerry West, Dr. Jerry Buss, and Chick Hearn. And when that era of Lakers basketball was over, I thought it would never be surpassed. Memory is funny like that. The older you get, the less clear the details are. But what remains are the feelings. The lows still deliver the same punch to the gut. And the highs still bring a smile to my face.

I never thought that anyone would capture the hearts of Laker Nation the way Kobe Bryant did. But for a generation of fans, he was Laker basketball. And maybe, even bigger. He played with a ferocity that was nearly unrivaled. Michael Jordan is the only player I think matched that mentality. But Bryant did it with a different kind of edge. He elicited every kind of emotion from a fan base. He was loved and hated, feared and respected, vilified and revered, all at the same time.  

Memory is funny like that. The older you get, the less clear the details are. But what remains are the feelings. The lows still deliver the same punch to the gut. And the highs still bring a smile to my face.

​​When Jerry West watched a then eighteen year old Kobe Bryant in a pre-draft work out, it only took West fifteen minutes to say that he’d seen enough. Bryant was the best prospect he’d ever seen. And he was going to do everything to ensure that he was going to be a Laker. And I thought West was crazy. The only guys coming straight from high school to the NBA back then were big guys. To get him, it meant West was going to give up Vlade Divac, the only center on his roster which I thought was even crazier. Twenty plus years later, that player has two of his jerseys hanging in the rafters at Staples Center.

His work ethic was legendary, even obsessive. He sought out the likes of Hakeem Olajuwon and Reggie Miller for ways to improve and add to his game. And in turn, the younger NBA generations turned to him how to improve theirs. He sought out philosophers, captains of industry, and financial moguls for advice, guidance, or just to quell his curiosity. He wanted to live his life with the most excellence as possible. And do it all his way.

He elicited every kind of emotion from a fan base. He was loved and hated, feared and respected, vilified and revered, all at the same time.  

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​The tributes throughout the sports world and beyond have been swift and plentiful. The Raptors and Spurs let the 24 clock expire on each of their first possessions in their game today. So did the Pelicans and Celtics. Za'Darius Smith and his teammates shot imaginary step back jumpers at the Pro Bowl. Soccer star Neymar held up two and four on his fingers after his goal scoring penalty kick. Players on the Oregon and Oregon State women’s basketball teams couldn’t hold back their tears as they gathered at half-court.

I couldn't either. And I know I wasn’t alone.