Kobe Bean Bryant

I was making coffee yesterday for my wife and I before heading out to enjoy a beautiful Sunday afternoon. I had this thought that since Kobe is now retired, it would probably be easier to have a conversation with him if I bumped into him somehow.

You see, I had long fantasized about meeting my idol. Whenever I would have these thoughts the rational side of me would say “Jason, it probably would disappoint you as thousands of people probably try to talk to him weekly”. Yet, at my core, I felt it would be different. I felt he would know that I was a different fan.

How much he meant to me.

I’d be able to articulate the impact he’s had on my life. How I mimic his mamba mentality with everything I do. How it’s ingrained in me. How I stare adversity in the face defiantly and don’t blink.

As I was well into this daydream, I opened a group text from my sister with a picture saying Kobe was dead.

My heart sunk into my stomach and chills crawled over my body. My normally steady analytical thought process part of my brain went haywire. I felt my heart beat fast and everything seemed confusing.

I managed to slip in the thought of “has to be a hoax”. Logged onto Twitter, and the panic intensified.

I tried to tell my wife what happened. She couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe it.

I decided proceeding with my afternoon would be more productive then sulking at home. Another thought crept into my brain amidst the chaos. “Maybe his daughter Gigi will explode to be a basketball star and I’ll get to watch her grow with my kids the way Kobe did for me.”

My phone kept blowing up with phone calls and text messages of people checking in on me or wanting to talk. It wasn’t long until it was revealed that Gigi had also died.

My one word feelings were: Devastating. Crushed. Unbelievable. Insane. I can’t.

I kept explaining throughout the day what a strange feeling it was to feel so much pain and hurt for someone I did not know. My wife would remind me though, it didn’t matter as he had instilled so many ideals in me.

I fell victim refreshing social media feeds and getting lost in the content. I was able to enjoy as much as my day as possible, but there was a dark cloud covering me.

Despite all the despair, I kept thinking Kobe would want me to rise. I admitted that Monday would probably be tough as it wouldn’t feel like a dream. It would feel too real.

I made a promise to get to the gym early to workout and attack the hell out of my work day.

I had as many conversations I could with loved ones and friends, finally ending with a FaceTime with my parents. Somehow, hearing from other people brought me solace.

So many posts reminded me that Kobe’s impact was global. Not only for athletes, but for everyone. It was comforting to see people I’ve known since middle school clearly affected and it meant I wasn’t alone.

I’m still in disbelief. I still can’t. I woke up around 2a, tossing and turning for hours.

I’m so grateful that I was able to grow up with this generational talent whose impact transcended the basketball court. I’m going to have plenty of content to show my children in the future and discuss with adoration who Kobe was.

This post would be 3 days long if I tried to express everything going on in my head. If you’re curious about what I wrote after his last game, please check out: Kobe

I thank all of you that have reached out or thought of me. I slept in one of my Kobe shirts, worked out in another one, and am going to wear my “Mamba Out” shirt today with my Kobe shoes.

I’m still a 12 year old placing all of my emotional being in the hands of a demigod dribbling a small leather ball.

Shot clock winding down. Defenders closing in.

3…

2…

1…

Mamba Out. RIP Kob, I love you.