This is for us, for the ones that grew up with Kobe. He was ours. We watched him, studied him, impersonated and emulated him. We saw him move with calculated precision, where each and every one of his steps was measured, weighted. We saw him fail. We saw him lose. We saw him learn. We saw him win. We saw a man’s rise to become eternal.

Some people define eternity as a life that has no end. But others look at it as what exists outside time—another plane that’s reserved for only the few.

A place where the ball never stops bouncing.

Kobe said he fell in love at six, which is when he moved to Italy. In solitude, he picked up the ball. He found a piece of something that compelled him, something that called to him. He said it made him feel alive.

That’s the way he made us feel. It was exhilarating when we watched him and we saw him fly. We were just kids, falling in love with the game through him. He was our teacher. He was on his way to the cosmos and we were hitched to the rocket ship. His game, his movements, his energy… Contagious. Intoxicating. Addicting. The bounce he walked with led into the explosion he dunked with. The explosion he dunked with bled into the blasts that he would shoot his jumpers with. That was all just the pathway to the inferno raging inside of him, his scorching, searing devotion to winning.

His infatuation with victory infected us. We expected it from him.

He delivered.

We followed.

He would shoot 1,000 shots a day. We would do the same, no matter what our “shots” were. We’ve grown up a little since we watched him three-peat and then go back-to-back. We’ve got jobs now, we’ve got families. But we’re attacking each and every day with those 1,000 shots loaded and ready to go. That’s the mentality he shared with us—win.

And then we saw him evolve. He went from dunking on everyone stupid enough to challenge him to something else. He reached basketball genius-level. He dominated mentally. His footwork became methodical. His fadeaway became unstoppable. His IQ became unquestionable.

He became a basketball master.

But his greatest evolution happened off the court, where he blossomed into a true father. He was already a father-figure to so many of us but the time he invested in his daughters was the truest testament to his character. That was where he showed the most growth. And that’s why this hurts so much.

We can all admit how upset we are, how many tears we’ve cried since Sunday. This isn’t about sadness, though.

This is about appreciation. Celebration. We should all understand and acknowledge how lucky we’ve been to get to see Kobe become Kobe. We were there the whole time, while he used basketball as the vehicle to educate us on how to realize our potential, whether as a ballplayer, a writer, a doctor, a chef, a photographer, a husband, wife, son or daughter.

People have been saying that he influenced an entire generation. And that’s an absolute fact. It was our generation. Kobe belongs to all of us. We all have a story about how he impacted us, from the time we were little to this exact day. We could go back through those moments that now echo in basketball history. Or we could just remember the feelings that ran through us during those plays. We got to be in the presence of one of the game’s most potently devastating forces. That’s a blessing.

Kobe, we’ll be moving for you from here on out, using everything you taught us. The quotes, the highlights, the memories, they will never, ever fade. We’ll see you and Gigi up there, where the ball never stops bouncing.

Thanks for everything, Bean. Love.

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