I woke up from a nap on Sunday and checked my phone. “Kobe’s dead”, read a text from my friend. No way. Not Kobe. I didn’t believe it. There was no way the invincible Kobe, the “Black Mamba”, could ever die so young at age 41.

But it was true. Kobe Bryant, his young daughter Gianna, and seven others tragically perished in a helicopter accident. I wasn’t alive when the world heard that JFK died, but it felt like that level. At the very least, it felt unfair and inequitable. Whether you are a basketball fan or not, you will probably always remember where you were when you heard of Kobe’s passing.

The guy transcended the game. A generation of kids grew up shouting “Kobe!” whenever they threw up some ridiculous shot, whether on a basketball court or into a trash can, bucket, bin, whatever. What Michael Jordan was to Generation X, Kobe was to Millennials. He bridged the divide between Jordan and the modern era’s reign of LeBron. He was our basketball superhero.

In the Beginning

When Kobe went straight to the NBA from high school, it was almost unheard of at the time. Kevin Garnett had accomplished the feat the year before (1995), but KG was also almost 7’0″ tall. Kobe was a 6’6″ shooting guard who played on the perimeter. How the hell was he going to survive on a court full of grown men at age 18?

Yet there was something different about Kobe from the start. Whether it was the prom date with Brandy or the high school gym announcement where he told the world he was taking his “talents to the NBA.” Haven’t we heard that one again since?

Few NBA scouts thought he would succeed. Some viewed Kobe as “not ready to attack the daily routine of a pro athlete.” Boy, were they wrong.

Anyone watching Kobe in his rookie year in 1996 could see that even in the limited minutes he played, he was fluid, dexterous, and athletic on another level.

He was also real. It became readily apparent that Kobe was not playing the game simply to have fun, cash paychecks, or pad stats. He wanted to kill you. His play was lethal. This was the guy who told his hometown 76ers fans that he was going to cut their hearts out before a game in the 2001 NBA Finals. In all of the basketball I’ve watched, I’ve never witnessed anyone with such ferocity, intensity, and tenacity apart from Jordan, the only player who sets the benchmark for those competitive attributes.

Chasing Mike

Kobe would forever measure himself against MJ. I still think to this day that a big reason for his falling out with Shaq, or even his decision to wear #24 (23+1), was in an effort to shape his legacy in comparison to Jordan. But those Shaq years, wow. Arguably the greatest one-two combo ever to play the game, that duo gave even the Showtime Lakers a run for their money.

Even amidst all the NBA stars of the late 90s and early 2000s, everyone wanted to be Kobe. I cannot tell you how many of my friends at the time had those ridiculous Kobe Adidas kicks that looked like moon boots. It wasn’t just the kids though – almost every NBA player and prospect wanted to be like Kobe. They aspired to model their game after his, the versatile swingman who could do it all, including icing any game with a last second dagger. He seriously was every player’s favorite player.

And then when we thought he was finished, he reemerged with a second act. The #24 jersey came on in 2006 and the Black Mamba was born. He then won titles with guys like Pau Gasol, Ron Artest, Lamar Odom, and Derek Fisher. The sense of helplessness he injected in his opponents (like the Paul Pierce Celtics) in those years was incredible to witness. I remember being in Los Angeles following the 2009 Lakers championship and feeling the contagious energy everywhere. If there’s one thing that’s undeniable about the entire Kobe saga it’s this – the Lakers fans have unconditional love for that guy.

Which is why Kobe delivered 81 point games, not to mention a 60 point finale to cap off a remarkable career, going out in true Kobe style. He was a performer, competitor, storyteller, and champion. He’s arguably the most memorable Laker ever, if not the greatest.

Not Without Faults

No article on Kobe is complete without referencing his 2003 arrest on felony sexual-assault charges. Although the charges were dropped when the woman refused to testify (after Bryant’s legal team publicly smeared her), his reputation forever changed. He settled with the woman in a separate civil case, while continuing to claim that the sex was consensual.

Any consideration of Kobe’s legacy must take all parts of him into account – the good, bad, and ugly. There is a certain ugliness to greatness, as he described when commenting on one of Richard Sherman’s infamous outbursts. After watching Kobe for over 20 years and vicariously learning from him, first as a young boy and now as a man in my early 30s, it became clear how the pursuit of greatness takes incredible sacrifice, while simultaneously taking a toll on your personal life. Greatness mandates prioritizing one’s craft over all else. Once you get to the top, that’s when the climb begins, as the saying goes. I can only imagine the mental complex one might develop upon experiencing Kobe level success, and all of the consequences that could follow.

Notwithstanding his faults, Kobe’s greatness was generational. He transcended the sport that made him famous. His loss reverberates around the world in a way only few people do (I personally haven’t felt this way about a celebrity since Anthony Bourdain). But through all of this his legacy will live on. So many of us will still say “Kobe” when we aim for that impossible basket; we’ll all strive for a little more greatness every day; and hopefully we’ll cherish each day a little more, for we never know which one may be our last.

Thanks for all the memories, Kobe. Rest easy my man.