October ’97: I was just a curious kid at a family lunch, testing out the new TVs in my uncle’s new car. It must have been fate, because the only program the receiver could seem to pick up on this beautiful day was the Laker game. By this point I had developed a love for sports, however, I had yet to find any heroic figure to whom I could cling onto and idolize. That day, I was introduced to a second year player in a purple jersey dawning a ‘#8’ who was already averaging double digit shot attempts off the bench. There was something quite unique about this character, I could felt it the moment he took the floor. That was all it took.

From that moment on, Kobe, you have been my idol. Like many other young kids, it started with the apparel. The first item on my Christmas wish list was a gold #8 jersey. Then came the shoes, the Adidas Kobe 2, to be exact. I started emulating everything you did, from sticking my tongue out on the drive to that angry, “get away from me” hand motion call for isolation. I even modeled my killer (and might I add, unstoppable) fadeaway jumpshot after you.

I was glued to the television whenever you were playing. The confidence you exuded when you faced up the hoop in the waning moments of a game. The way you elected to guard the other team’s best player, regardless of position. The way you took on all five defenders and still drained the shot. The fearlessness. I took all of that in.

From the restless nights when the Lakers lost, to the arguments which ensued with whoever spoke over your postgame interviews; to you Kobe Bryant, I surrendered all my emotions. ‘What Would Kobe Do?’ essentially became the mantra to my everyday life.

What you have given back to the world over the past 20 years is something that we all should be grateful for. I am personally grateful for the 2 long decades of you being a consummate professional, phenomenal entertainer and master of your craft. You are the epitome of what it means to leave it all out on the floor. Your work ethic and internal drive are otherworldly gifts which everybody, basketball fan or not, should strive to emulate.

Every time your size 14s graced those hardwood floors, It was a case of class being in session rather than simply ‘watching a game’. Your meticulous training and never-ending quest to achieve perfection were only two components to your greatness. Night in and night out, your demeanor has screamed, “Go for what you want, and do not take no for an answer”. It was not until this announcement when I honestly sat back to appreciate everything that one could have learned from your approach to basketball and life outside the sport.

I can only think to myself…

You taught me that I must keep fighting until the final buzzer sounds.

You taught me that preparation, away from the lights and the crowd, was the first step to your success.

You taught me that there is no shame in making a mistake as long as I give it my 200% and learn from it.

You taught me that simply making the podium is not good enough, and that it is about being the best at what you do.

You taught me that the results would be worth the painstaking efforts — five times.

You taught me that it’s not about how you start, but how you finish — in the fourth.

And now, you’re teaching me that nothing lasts forever. Sometimes your passion was misconstrued for selfishness. In that case, I can selfishly say that I am immensely upset with you and this retirement announcement. Of course we all knew the day would come when #24 hung it up, I just never wanted to believe it. The fact of the matter is that with your departure, I am ultimately losing a part of my identity as my childhood was an everlasting continuum of your highlights. While the milestones you have reached have transcended the sport and are forever immortalized in NBA history, the thought of knowing I will not hear your name in that starting lineup beyond this season makes me sick to my stomach.

I will spend the money to watch you play one last time this season. Only this time, instead of watching for personal enjoyment, I will be in attendance, to thank you for all you have done for me.

I will always remember you as my generation’s MJ and my childhood hero. But above all, I’ll always remember you as:



“… at Shooting Guard, number 8, 6 foot 6, from Lower Merion High School…”

Long live the Mamba.

Play on,

Jay Joshi