Kobe Bryant

Bill Simmons recently wrote a column for ESPN in which he explained why he did not think it was correct to classify him as a "Kobe Hater". I was a little aggravated to see he had written it because I had been thinking about my own attitude towards Kobe, and wanted to get it on my blog, but didn't want it to appear that I was following any kind of trend. I guess that's what I get for not posting frequently enough.

Because of his incredible skill and abilities, Bryant is more famous than basketball. Like Michael Jordan and Shaquille O'Neal and Larry Bird and Magic Johnson before him. Like Tiger Woods and the game of golf. Like Wayne Gretzky and hockey. People who know nothing about basketball know that Kobe Bryant is good at basketball, not because they've seen it, but because they've been told enough times. I think this creates a negative stigma towards Bryant for true fans of the sport. They take praise of Kobe as a slight, because they've put in the hours and the study and the effort to know the game, which in sum might tell them that Kobe Bryant is the best active player in the NBA, but someone who does none of those things can reach the same conclusion. This creates the impression that Kobe is the ideal of the non-basketball fan, or the fair-weather fan, who has not the necessary education to levy such judgement. Kobe is thus derided for the wide recognition of his talent.

Many seem to take issue with Kobe Bryant: The Person Off the Court. Essentially this is a judgment on how the man conducts his personal life when he's not wearing a Lakers jersey, or a team USA jersey, or a Western All-Star Jersey. Though often unstated, I get the sense that criticisms of Kobe the Human are rooted largely in the accusation of rape and the subsequent trial that occurred a few years ago. When his highly-publicized trial was underway, I had not yet become a follower of professional basketball. I don't really care what happened in Denver on the night in question. I wasn't there. The trial ended. Bryant was not convicted. But because so many people in this country love the rise and fall of the rich and famous, Kobe will never stop being on trial for the things that did or didn't happen in Denver that night.

When I was able to get past the fame and move beyond the reputation, I started to see the basketball player. Kobe Bryant is an incredible basketball player. For the first phase of his career he was burdened with the "Next Jordan" tag. He didn't shy away from it, and made more than one move to deliberately paint his name over Mike's. After Shaq split from the Lakers, and the team began its spin out of playoff contention, the criticisms began to come with a more frequent accusation: Kobe will never be Jordan. I think it may have been the best thing that could have happened to him. Kobe looked at his feet, and the road beneath them, and looked back at the history of the game and where he had been in that history. Then I believe he came to a realization. He realized that those were his feet. He was standing on his own road. His place in the history of the game was his and his alone, just as Jordan's place was only Jordan's and Shaq's place was only Shaq's. He accepted that Kobe Bryant wasn't going to be the next anything, but that he was going to be the only Kobe Bryant. He transcended the burdens of being himself that had been placed on him by everyone up to that point, and began being himself for himself only. I loved that.

About two weeks ago when the Lakers played in Boston, there was a moment that solidified my appreciation for Kobe. The first quarter was about to expire, and Kobe had the ball. He was dribbling, standing still, in front of his defender. The shot clock was winding down. With less than two seconds remaining on the clock, Kobe whipped the ball to the far side of the court where Trevor Ariza stood, just outside the three-point line. Ariza should have shot the ball as soon as it hit his hands. Instead, Ariza caught the ball, put it on the floor and took a step inside the line, then picked it up to shoot. Guess what? Time expired before the shot was off and the quarter ended. Kobe looked at Ariza like he was the dumbest ass hole ever born, and that was the moment that I realized why I like Kobe.

I make that face.

I'm guilty. Sometimes, I'm kind of a dick. I don't mean to be. I don't want to be. But sometimes I am, and I am in the same kind of situation that Kobe was at the end of that quarter. He expected someone else to do exactly what he would have done in a given situation, and to do it just as well as he would have. That didn't happen, and he was pissed about it. The circumstances didn't matter to Bryant, only the end result, which was failure by someone he trusted to get the job done. In Kobe's head, if hadn't given that shot to Ariza, he would have made the shot himself. If the roles had been reversed, he would have caught the ball and shot it, scoring three points on nothing but net at the buzzer. It makes no difference that he might have missed it too. In Kobe's head, he knew what needed to be done, asked someone to do it, and they couldn't. They let him down. Kobe knows how hard he works, how much time he puts in, and how much sweat he has poured into becoming one of the game's greatest players. As far as he's concerned, everyone else who plays basketball could be that good if they just tried hard enough, but they don't. They're lazy. They don't care as much. So when do I do that? All the time, over stupid things. Washing the dishes. Cooking food. Putting things in the refrigerator in an orderly fashion. Driving. Talking to women. Writing. Any job that I get paid for. It's absurd. And when I take a step back I recognize that I'm being a conceited ass. But in the moment, if something didn't work right, or if it broke, or the result was not as expected, it's because it wasn't done the way I would have done it. More accurately, it wasn't done the way I like to believe I would have done it. It is because of this trait in Kobe (that I recognize now in myself) that I feel I can appreciate him as a player a little bit more.

So, Kobe, I feel you man.

To everyone who knows me - sorry for making that face sometimes.