Dear Kobe,

Dear Kobe,

I can’t believe that you’re gone. You are a superhero to me. I say are, instead of was, because I’ll never be able to let you go, and you’re presence is still felt. I know basketball is probably the last thing on your mind right now, but did you see Trae Young and Devin Booker last night? Those boys accidentally honored every number you’re associated with. 24 combined made field goals. 24 shots taken each. 81% from the free throw line, and they combined for 81 total points. You can’t make shit like that up, and that’s why I say your presence will always be here. Same with GiGi…

Growing up, I wasn’t the biggest fan of yours. I mean, I respected the hell out of you as a basketball player, and I thought your wife was fine as hell — sorry, Vanessa — but to me, you were what my father thought the game should be, and that irked me, like it would for any son. For me, I loved Allen Iverson. For whatever reason, I thought that I would be short forever — my mom is 6 feet and my dad is 6'6, so that was dumb — and just latched on to his fearless attitude. Then after you dismantled my boy in the finals, I became the BIGGEST Tracy McGrady fan, bought his shoes with the first $100 bill that I ever received and everything… then you crushed him too.

As I started to grow more, I started to really enjoy you as a basketball fan. You broke me down and made me a fan the same way you break defenders down and made them feel defeated. Around this time, I started to embrace you and the Lakers. Seeing as how I had been to three championship parades with my fanatic of a father, I eventually had to bow down and show some respect. That day was April 30th, when you faced the Suns in the first round of the 2006 Playoffs. I was with my Dad, my Uncle Johnny and my Uncle Cassie, the 3-biggest Laker fans I knew at the time. We went to a bar near Staple Center and I was only maybe 10-years-old. It was so strange to see me at that bar, but I felt right at home… which is ironic, lol.

I’ll never forget watching that whole game. During the 4th quarter, my Dad bought me a sundae. He thought since they had their beer, I deserved a treat as well. I finished my sundae in shock the same way they finished their drinks, watching you make something out of nothing in regulation and send it to overtime. It was nuts. Everybody in the bar was going crazy, giving hugs, hive fives and everything in between. It was really the first moment I had with NBA basketball that I could call my own… but it wasn’t over. You didn’t win it with that buzzer beater, you sent it to overtime. I’ll never forget my Pops and Uncles ordering another round before my Uncle Johnny stops, and tells me I need another sundae for The Mamba. Then, as I watched with chocolate on my face, you hit another one, this time winning the game. To this day, I can’t watch that video without getting chills — and that was before you passed away. It’s a memory with my family that has carried us through the most trying of times, as it will for this one.

I can’t speak on GiGi much, because I didn’t know much about her. None of us did. She was taken so young that it’s impossible to feel like anybody really knew a 13-year-old. One thing we knew, though, was that she was the Mambacita, and there was no need for you to have a son, lol. I was fully apart of the crowd that made the jokes about you needing a son for your legacy, and I was fully part of the crowd that was shut-the-fuck-up by your amazing daughter and her complete disgust with us imbeciles that a woman couldn’t carry the Bryant tradition. So while I didn’t know GiGi, I find solace in knowing that she knew herself, and while it’s sad she didn’t get to blossom, I truly believe she was living the life she wanted to live, which is all any of us can strive for.

The hardest part about all of this is knowing the effect it’s had on my father. I talked to him after finding out, and the defeat in his voice broke my heart. Rarely a quiet man, he was utterly speechless, before his voice cracked and he mentioned he wasn’t sure if he could continue as a basketball fan. You see, basketball has a peculiar relationship with my father and I. As you were dealing with Achilles surgery in 2013 as your career was about to end, I was going through ALC surgery of my own, cherishing the words you had about your recovery, as if you were saying them to me about my own.

I never played basketball again after that, and it broke my dad’s heart. That’s the last time I seen him like this, and when he found out that you guys were on the way to GiGi’s basketball game, I think it just took the game from him, and I could hear it. That’s been the toughest part about your death. Not only were you a superhero to me, but you’re one of the only people in the world that MY superhero looks at the same way. For my father to think so highly of you, that’s what eventually broke my barriers down and made me love you. You are so synonymous with my father that it feels like a piece of him left as well.

I could sit here all day and write about what you mean to me. I could literally never get up from this chair right now, keep writing about you, and I’d be content for days. I didn’t even mention how you brought me closer than ever to my estranged Grandmother and we watched damn near every game together of your 2010 championship season. That would represent another level of sadness that I’m not prepared to deal with at the moment. So, instead, I want to tell you a story that most people scoff at when they hear, but you’ll absolutely love:

Right before Game 7 of the 2000 Western Conference Finals, my dad was able to scalp some tickets to see you guys vs The Trailblazers, and he spent a lot of money on them. He only bought two, though, one for me and one for him. I was 5-years-old, but already a huge basketball fan. So for my dad, who was maybe 25 at the time, he felt like I was going to be excited as hell. He was dead wrong. Because while I loved basketball, I had just became a big brother, with him having a daughter, and I loved that way more. My sister, Ashlea, and her mother were going to see the movie, Dinosaurs that same day. Now, I don’t know if you remember Dinosaurs, but it was eventually released on DVD like ANY OTHER MOVIE and I probably could’ve just went another day with my dad. Nope, I wanted to be with Ashlea. It was way more important than some stupid basketball game (HAHA). My Dad couldn’t believe it, and to this day makes fun of me for it because… of course… that was the day that you guys mounted a HUGE comeback, and one of the most iconic Alley-Oops in NBA history was thrown. To this day, my Dad swears that Shaq was pointing at him in the stands — he was pointing at Will Smith, but tell Pops that. Either way, my Dad got home and was super excited and thought that I’d be bummed out. Instead, I was 3-times as excited as he was to spend the day with my sister. As I mentioned before, this is a great cocktail story, and one I’m ridiculed for all of the time. But I always wanted to meet you, and tell you that story. Because to me, of all people in this world, you would’ve appreciated it the most.

I love you, Kobe. I’ll miss you. My thoughts will be with your family, always and we will continue to keep your legacy alive. Never leave us. Rest in power, Gianna Bryant.

Signed,

A Grateful Student