Bigger Than Basketball
When the news traveled from my car speakers into my ears, chills ran through my body. I was driving to the car wash with both of my daughters in the back seat. After pulling into the car wash line, I immediately grabbed my phone off the passenger seat to confirm what I hoped was just a hoax or a terrible joke. I googled “Kobe Bryant” and there it was: the words “dead” and “Kobe Bryant” in the same sentence. I quickly changed the station to local sports radio. All I heard was a couple seconds of silence. Eventually, a trembling voice, “I’m not sure what to say after that.”
What my body felt I couldn’t describe. My mind was racing. Do I get out of the car wash line? Do I start crying? Do I explain to the girls what happened? I was shocked. I stood still. The texts started to roll in on group chats with my friends. The voice on the radio continued, “Kobe is one of 5 confirmed deaths.” My mind raced as to who the other 4 could be. Was his wife on the plane? Please tell me none of the kids were on the plane. My brain was spinning; my eyes were watering.
All this while being directed to straighten my car tires to align with the car wash. All this, as a smiling face asks me “What kind of wash would you like today?” and says, “Wow, you have some beautiful daughters back there!”
After the car wash, I headed to the grocery store. My oldest asked, “Why do they keep talking about this Kobe guy?” I wasn’t ready to explain it to them, so all I said was, “I’ll tell you in a little bit.” We arrived at the grocery store, and I just sat there in the car, listening to the radio and checking my social media pages. It was all over. I shared my immediate reactions. I started to cry. I explained to my daughters that a really great ex-basketball player had died in a helicopter accident. By this time, it had been confirmed that Kobe’s daughter, Gianna, had also been involved in the incident. My oldest asked, “Are they gone forever?” She also wondered, “How would the mom feel never seeing them again?”
It was a lot to take in. For all of us.
We sat in the parking spot for 30 minutes, gathering information about the incident, talking it over and sitting in silence. I was numb. When we finally entered the store, it was almost as if the news had been announced over the loud speakers. It was quiet. People looked somberly at each other. I tried my best to focus on what I needed to grab and to get out of there as soon as possible.
As we exited, I noticed how Mother Nature seemed to be mourning with me. The clouds were gray, and the breeze was soft. The cars moved in silence, and the birds stopped chirping. The sunset turned to moonlight instantly. After kissing my daughters and putting them to bed, I tossed and turned all night. I wondered what it must have felt like for Kobe in those last few moments when all he wanted was to protect Gianna, and he couldn’t.
For once, Kobe Bryant ran up against an opponent that he couldn’t defeat.
He was a father, a husband, a mentor, a friend and then a basketball player.
Kobe, we watched you go from high school to professional. We watched you become an amazing amateur talent to a professional NBA champion. You grabbed the world’s attention with your 81 points in one game, and you put us on edge with your tenacity and drive. When you tore your Achilles, we watched you stand tall and finish; FINISH on your own terms.
We watched you sit in front of the world and admit to an encounter outside of your marriage with Vanessa by your side. We watched you fall and rise. We watched you go from arrogant to humble, from afro to bald, from 8 to 24, from NBA to fatherhood.
Kobe Bryant, you gave it all. As a player, as a mentor and as a family man. Today, as I dropped my daughters off at school, I held them a little tighter, squeezed them a little longer and kissed them with more passion. I sat in the school parking lot and cried. I cried for 30 minutes thinking of you, your family, your daughters, my daughters and everyone affected by this nightmare.
This nightmare actively haunts me. I’m a fan of sports, and everyone knows that. But I’m even more a fan of fatherhood. Kobe and Vanessa, thank you for sharing your family with the world. Thank you for showing us the resiliency it takes to maintain love within a marriage. Kobe, thank you for setting the bar for many fathers to come. Thank you for leading by example when it comes to the daily pursuit of our children. We love you, Kobe; the father, the husband, the mentor, the friend, and finally, the basketball player.
To the other 7 passengers who lost their lives, we pray for you and your families and the impact you left on the world. Your footprints and fingerprints will forever mark the soil we walk on.
To those of us who are left behind, let me offer this bit of encouragement: hug your loved ones a little tighter. Do what you said you were going to do long after you said it. Push yourself to the limit, and then push yourself some more. Study the craft in front of you, and love as if there is no tomorrow.
I know I speak for so many around the world when I say, “Thank you, Kobe. We love you.”
#Mambaout #Mambamentality
