Gods aren’t supposed to die.

For many of us, that’s what Kobe was, a God.

He was a larger than life creature, seemingly born on another planet, equipped with superhuman ability.

His feats seemed to defy human capacity.

81 points.

62 through 3 quarters.

4 straight 50 point games.

50 through 3 quarters, 5 times.

18 year-old dunk contest winner.

Impossible fade-aways, fakes, spins, and badooka dunks.

36 game-winning shots and countless moments of heart and greatness.

60 points in a game 6 times, including his final game, where he exhaustedly willed his team to win.

As fantastical as these achievements were as we witnessed them live in front of our eyes, Kobe was enshrouded by an even greater mythos.

While supported by his real-life championships, records, and innumerable hours in the gym, it was his legend that sparked his cult-like following and occasionally irrational, unapologetic fan-base.

The stories of his midnight workouts, 3am alarm clocks, 1,000+ made shots a day, odd motivational tactics, obsession with film study and details, trash talk, uncomfortable team practices, trips to Germany, and many others, lifted his persona to untraceable territories.

He seemed to revel in the lore attached to his one-name identity.

The stories are either fake, alien-esk, or borderline sadomasochistic.

The Black Mamba and Mamba Mentality were born from the shadows of the snake pit, where he could maintain his enigmatic and mythical nature.

The legend of Kobe’s heart and will, grew ever larger after his season-ending injury in 2013.

No mere man could have walked the length of the court twice, straight-faced, to hit free-throws after rupturing their Achilles tendon.

He was seemingly impervious to pain.

He won finals with broken fingers and severely sprained ankles.

He hit shots left-handed after not being able to lift his shooting arm from muscle tears.

He played a half of basketball on a broken bone in his leg.

All these acts of heroism, adding to his transcendent legacy.

He’d push himself past thought-to-be human limits to achieve the task at hand.

His sense of purpose and drive were unmatched.

He never felt fear, or at least we never saw it.

As Leonidas says in the movie 300, “It’s not the fear that grips him, only a heightened sense of things.”

Kobe had the rare ability to feel the heightened sense of the moment and the even rarer ability to shoot in those moments.

The possibility of missing didn’t scare him.

But he did miss.

He missed more than anyone in the history of the game, actually.

Maybe he wasn’t full-God.

He had weaknesses.

We saw the selfishness, the stubbornness, and his competitive nature ruin relationships.

The rape allegations, the Shaq feud, the uncomfortable practices, the strained dynamic with his family, even his own coach, Phil Jackson didn’t like him for some time.

We also saw him grow up before our eyes, from a skinny, overly confident 17 year-old kid, to a vengeful predator, to a loving father, husband, and mentor.

He was polarizing.

He was thoughtful and philosophical.

He was unapologetically brash.

He was a genius.

He was diabolical.

He was heroic.

He was villainous.

He was beloved.

He was hated.

We mimicked his greatest feats in our driveways on crooked eight-foot rims as kids and adults.

We bought his ugly-ass, Cybertruck looking Adidas and cut a sock to copy his arm sleeve.

We ran down the imaginary clock and shot fade-aways with our friends to feel like we were him for just a moment.

We yelled “Kobe!” anytime a paper ball was shot towards a trash can..

We hated players for him (Dwight, Raja, Chris Childs, LeBron, even Shaq).

We still defend him in any Lebron or Jordan vs. Kobe argument and always will, no matter how irrational it gets.

We loved his philanthropy.

We also condemned his greatest falls as sharers and humble, family-focused individuals.

We hated his 5 for 20-something games.

We hated that he made Shaq leave.

We wished he would pass more (except for ’05-’06 – let that baby fly).

We wished he spent more time with his family (which he made right on, eventually).

He represented the best in us and the worst in us.

In admiration and disgust, he took our minds off our jobs, our inadequacies, our incomes, our shortcomings, our disabilities, and our irrelevance.

He united us through a game in life and is once again bringing us together to mourn his death.

He’s brought us closer now as a humbled nation than we’ve felt in years.

He is the Lakers.

He is L.A.

He is human.

He is us.

He’s a modern-day Achilles, part God and part man.

He’s a mystical legend and a real-life hero.

He is the God of the Gunslingers.

The God of Hard Work.

The God of the Unafraid.

We will never forget you, Kobe.

The final buzzer has sound.

You’ve walked through the tunnel one last time.

Now, take your place amongst the Gods, Mr. Bryant.

You will always be our hero.

Kobe! Kobe! Kobe….