Dear Kobe

Dear Kobe,

It wasn’t until my late 30s or mid 40s that I had planned to write something about how you inspired my childhood, my ambitions, my drive and the never give up attitude I shrine my central focus around. But here we are.

April 2007, a chubby kid in high-school afraid to pick up a ball of any kind in fear of embarrassment of not knowing what to do with them, I had two dear friends (twins actually) who told me about you. Little did I know that this would be a start to a love story that I never predicted as a kid, one that made me question why I didn’t roll up my dad’s socks like you did when you were six.

Dear Kobe, your impact was felt from that rainy afternoon when I skipped practice to watch your videos at a friend’s place and felt disgusted at myself for missing practice twenty minutes into your #8 highlight reel. I promised myself a four year journey to rise to the top.

From my very first basketball tournament to being known as a basketball figure at my high school, I enshrined you in every step of my journey to becoming who I am as person. My earliest memory of you would be a Lakers drawstring bag that my best friend would rock to practice when I was still figuring out how to hold the ball. The seniors would talk about your games in the morning, and I would sit and eagerly listen to what they had to say.

2008, unknowingly I started to deconstruct the “Mamba-Mentality” and weaved it piece by piece into my work. You built my ethics towards being attentive in class and practice, you showed me that I had to push through when everything else was not going my way, and you taught me how to never give up. You instilled the bad sides too, and it wasn’t until later on in life that I realized that those values of relentlessness, anger, frustration and saying no, could be used for the greater good if timed properly. In hindsight, life around me was picking up.

2009. “To sum up what Mamba Mentality is, it means to be able to constantly try to be the best version of yourself.” , offline. My heartfelt championship years. Oh my gosh, what a time it was. You were instilled in everything I did on the court, and I started talking about you more and more off the court, and while I did so, I met amazing individuals who shared the same belief that I did, and appreciated that will to compete. Funny enough I started to apply your philosophy to arguments, fights, bad breaks and struggles all around from then on. Constantly, trying to be the best version of myself; constantly challenging others around me; constantly, wanting to win.

2010. Back to back. I was entering my mid teens, and I realized that the basketball dream was wavering away, so I tried to induce your philosophy into the bigger game: real life. I became a scheduler, and I started to see the longer end of the tail as I dove headfirst into my Sophomore year. I began to follow your movements off the court. Every single day, my younger brother and I would sneak up late at night to play the Celtics vs. Lakers and I would play loose the entire game so I could take the game winning shot with you in the end.

Dear Kobe, my friends abroad always knew what to send me, if they didn’t I made sure they did; and I would be so proud rocking their presents to every class; on and off the field; covered in purple and gold; taking in pride in hanging your name

2011. Injuries, talks of trade, and an ailing roster. You had me worried, and what a cliche that my life was uncertain at that time too. A new jersey, a new court, new friends, but the same work ethic.

24. Carpe Diem. Sieze the day. These words were echoed by a former teammate who fashioned himself after you on and off the court. We don’t talk much, but when we watched you play or talked about you, there was a sense of respect between each other, for our love for the game, our love for you.

Dear Kobe, you taught me the first thing about strategy. And you pushed me to chase my dreams, regardless of what the situation was outside. You taught me not to respect the lazy, but you warned me not to disrespect anyone.

2012–2013. Steve, Dwight and Kobe. My rookie year in college. All my friends knew my love for you, and I made so many just talking about you. I remember during my final days in my hometown, my dad would tell me that I am really doing all this so I get to meet you in America or something, and we’d laugh it off.

Dear Kobe, you got injured. A dear friend and I would always talk about you, about the day you win more than MJ; the heart-stop when you came out of that game. I thought it was over. But you were there, you got back up, and you came right back, and you gave us two more years.

Mamba-Out.

I remember I was saving up for that game, but I had to use the money for something that came up, and we watched that game at my old place back in college. I remember we were in tears when you dropped the mic. I remember we smiled when you took the lead in the last minute; when you scored your final 60th. I remember the first time a tear ran down my cheek after watching “Dear Basketball” and I remember the wide smile in your face when you held the Oscar for it.

Dear Kobe, in the final years running up to yesterdays tragedy, my phone wall paper never changed. Your voice would be heard once every week through some sort of podcast or some youtube appearance. Your inspirations for your girls could be felt echoing and shaping my late adulthood.

Dear Gianna, I am so sorry I could never see you play either. Young #Mambacita your story is one that Daddy was super proud off, and you dragged him back to Staples to watch those games this year and gave us memories of him and the King hugging.

Dear Kobe, you inspired thoughts of real fatherhood when you talked about Natalie’s love for volleyball, when you shared that TikTok video on just being the best at whatever you are good at and let everything else be.

Dear Kobe, your thoughts on the Mamba-Mentality echoed motivation across the universe, and wherever in the world I went, people would know your name and talk about you in a noble light.

Your motivation to write; your short rap stints, your thoughtful quotes, your anger; the fire in your eyes, taught me how to use the switch, the ON switch, which meant that i’ll now go from point A to B, no matter what.

There’s so much to say, but so little that came out.

Dear Kobe,

I am sorry I never got to see you in person.

I’ll miss you.

Your #1 fan off the court.