It’s the holiday season, and it’s around this time where you’ll often hear the question, “What do you get the person that has everything?” Kobe Bryant announced he would retire at the end of the 2015-16 season last week, and that announcement begs the following question: What is the proper sendoff for the man who embodied everything we love and hate about basketball?
From the moment we saw him — with shades affixed atop his forehead — casually yet brazenly announce his intentions to enter the 1996 NBA Draft, people have been divided on exactly who Kobe Bean Bryant is. What drives him? What is he about? What happened between him and Brandy on prom night?
For 20 years, there has been no greater debate in basketball than Kobe; that’s right, he is the debate. His irresistible nature makes it impossible to not have an opinion on him. Your mom has an opinion of Kobe (mine can’t stand him, by the way). Bryant is a paradox in Hyperdunks.
In the midst of winning a state championship for Philadelphia’s Lower Merion and becoming the most highly-touted high school player in America, Kobe Bryant was already rubbing people the wrong way. At that time, a kid going straight from prep to pros wasn’t well received by everyone, especially for a guard. Plus, Kobe used to do annoying things like throw up the Omega Psi Phi hooks after dunks even though he was in high school (did he ever pledge grad chapter?)
In spite of the fact that he briefly tried his hand at rhyming, Kobe was singularly driven by basketball, which is what has endeared him to so many of his psycho fans (seriously, nobody goes harder than Kobe fans). Sure he was smart (really smart), mature, spoke fluent Italian, and as an 18-year-old would rather pick up a Time Magazine than a King Magazine, but Bryant was the son of a hooper. Basketball resides deep within the fibers of his DNA— it’s all he ever truly cared about.
Surly basketball had to be at the forefront of his thinking when each summer in the first third of his career, Kobe would come back with a newly enhanced part of his game. From the very beginning, Bryant seemed to have a sixth sense for what it meant to be a superstar. When everyone else on the team seemed paralyzed with fear, it was the rookie Bryant who hoisted four long jumpers late in a deciding road playoff game against Utah. All of them were airballs, yet anybody who watched that game understood the value of the kid having the stones to take those shots.
That same desire for having the outcome of the entire season to rest on his youthful shoulders drove Kobe to become one of the great late game performers of all-time. The degree of difficulty seemed insignificant, almost beneath him. If Vladimir Guerrero was “the best bad-ball hitter of his era”, Kobe was the best bad-shot maker, maybe ever. A deep pull-up jumper to tie the game in Game 2 of the 2004 NBA Finals, an utterly insane one-legged banker from three three at the horn with Dwyane Wade in his jersey to beat the Miami Heat, the two incredible off-balance shots at Portland to steal the Pacific Division title on the last day of the ’04 season (my personal favorites); Kobe’s flair for the dramatics were nothing short of magnificent.
Well, sort of.
What so many Kobe fans stans tend to ignore is that Kobe’s game-winners, while plentiful in number, is more a reflection of his shot attempts than his capacity to rise to the occasion. Kobe took more clutch shots than anyone over his two decades in the NBA by far, and actually shot a fairly poor percentage in such situations. Bryant was heroic to a massive fault; HHSR even posted a column about the “he (Kobe, above anyone) is a killer” phenomenon which was equally damaging to the game as it was enthralling for basketball fans.
Hero ball is fun to watch when it works, but it usually doesn’t. Kobe’s uncanny ability to make difficult shots was the catalyst for his at times nightmarish shot selection; shot selection which could be so abysmal (especially in crunch time), it makes one question the basketball IQ which so many basketball insiders have raved about throughout his career.
Sidebar: And Spike Lee, who shot a documentary about it.
However, at what point was Kobe shooting double-teamed better for the team than Smush Parker shooting a wide-open 18-footer? Called it selfishness if necessary, but Kobe’s single-minded determination is what drove him to so many of his greatest moments. Taking over Game 4 of the 2000 Finals in Indianapolis when Shaquille O’Neal fouled out was an incredible feat for any 21-year-old. His epic 81-point game was unfairly met with criticism as Kobe caught fire while simultaneously dragging his lifeless Laker teammates out of it. It was around that time where Kobe cemented himself as one of the greatest offensive weapons in NBA history (dropping 60 points in three quarters versus the Mavericks will do that).
When the smoke cleared, only a player who could seemingly do anything on a basketball court stood before us. Seriously, who else out there was making left-handed three’s?? A gifted passer (when he chose to be), with range greater than Michael Jordan and footwork on the block that Hall of Fame power forwards and centers would die for; Kobe Bryant gave us “The Clinic”.
And then Lil Wayne put “The Clinic” into words.
However, that unrelenting skill would occasionally serve as his kryptonite. Each summer while Kobe was improving his game, Shaq wasn’t, and it drove Kobe insane. The famous feud finally resulted in Bryant defensibly giving coach Phil Jackson and Lakers management an ultimatum. Phil, GM Mitch Kupchak and owner Dr. Jerry Buss wisely opted to retain the their star guard’s services at the expense of O’Neal. After bringing the franchise three consecutive championships and Finals MVPs, the Lakers severed ties with O’Neal and he was dealt to Miami after the 2004 season.
The Lakers jettisoned the most dominant player in the game to appease the younger Bryant— you’d think that would satisfy him. However, the next several years unveiled a different side of the future Hall of Famer. Kobe trashed his teammates (publicly), was critical of management (publicly), quit on his team in the second half of Game 7 of the Lakers first round series against the Phoenix Suns in 2006 just to prove a point, and (depending on what story you believe) at various times nearly ended up on the Pistons, Bulls, Wizards and Clippers. Add to this petulant behavior snitching on Shaq’s extramarital relationships to the feds and getting famously stole on by Chris Childs, and we’re pretty much dealing with the quintessential basketball antagonist. It’s no wonder Phil Jackson lit him up in his book.
So let’s reset: What is the proper disposition to have towards an athlete who is equal parts savant and egomaniac?
Perhaps the greatest single-game representation of the Kobe Bryant enigma was Game 7 of the 2010 NBA Finals against the Boston Celtics. The opportunity for the Lakers to exact revenge on their most hated rival — after Bryant’s team was dragged by 39 points in an elimination Finals game in Boston two years prior — was right in front of them. But in the most high-stakes game of his life, Kobe was horrendous. He shot 6-24, scored only 23 points, had a 1:2 assist-to-turnover ratio and a +/- of 0 in 45 minutes. Despite that, Bryant still found ways to aid his team. He helped limit Boston’s wing players (Paul Pierce and Ray Allen) to a combined 8-29 shooting, he made 11-15 free throws and somehow grabbed 15 rebounds! And the Lakers won the game.
A tidy five NBA Championships are in the books for Kobe, plus a monumental takeover in the gold medal game of the 2008 Summer Olympics. Even with all his flaws, the guy is a winner.
Sidebar: Kobe even nicknamed himself “The Black Mamba”, which is just about the corniest thing you could possibly do. But it stuck! Kobe won again!
Winning trumped everything for Kobe Bryant…because winning trumped everything for Michael Jordan. There was a time not long ago HHSR even suggested Kobe had a shot at being remembered as the greatest player ever, but it required more championships. The Mamba seemed to accept these terms long ago. After all, he emulated Jordan in every other conceivable way, why wouldn’t he want to finish with six or seven titles?
If there was ever a player for a sleek 6’7″ shooting guard to pattern his game after, it would be His Airness. But the blatant biting of every aspect of Jordan’s game, right down to the most innocuous mannerisms, while consistently maintaining in interviews he always wanted to be like Magic and not Mike, was egregiously disingenuous. In fact, it was borderline insulting, especially when you came from a generation where keeping it 100 meant something. This is why Kobe never quite resonated with the people in the same way Allen Iverson did. Iverson was an original in every sense of the word. Bryant copied Jordan in every way imaginable, to the point the internet gave us not one, not two but THREE of these videos:
Considering all the “anointing” of the next #23 we all suffered though, that Kobe (#24, he also changed his number) could even mirror Mike this closely is commendable. But it’s still wack. Bryant knew a void existed in the wake of Jordan’s retirement, and he jumped at the chance to fill it. It’s why he obliterated MJ in his last trip to The Staples Center. It’s why he engaged in gamesmanship whenever possible (including telling Russell Westbrook to shoot more two summers ago in an attempt to disrupt the Thunder offense, according to Yahoo!’s Adrian Wojnarowski). It’s why his antennas were always up, hearing and reacting to virtually every criticism he could pick up.
In January 2001, Kobe shot a frigid 8-24 in a loss to the Jazz. Magic Johnson went on TV and stated that while he was impressed with Kobe’s talent, he was disappointed that Bryant never harnessed it in such a way to impact other areas of the game besides scoring, most notably, making his teammates better. Magic went on to cite that Kobe, now in his fifth season, had never notched a triple-double in his career.
Guess what Kobe did in his next game two nights later?
Again, the amount of raw ability it takes to record a triple-double in an NBA game on command is one owned by a special few. But he actually went out and did this? Looking back, it fits what we know about him. Everything Bryant has ever done felt premeditated— like in 2011 when the Lakers lost to the Heat in Miami and Kobe got some extra shots up postgame (with the cameras rolling). Even his goodbye retirement letter, which made no mention of coaches or teammates, seemed contrived and madd hokey. And it was posted to The Players’ Tribune, a website in which Kobe has a financial stake.
Kobe wants the adulation. He wants to go to Portland and have them give him a rocking chair. He wants his jersey retired in Miami.
— HipHopSportsReport (@HHSReport) November 30, 2015
How brilliant was he when he was playing with a rape charge hanging over him? How many All-Star Game MVPs did we witness him gun for (emphasis on “gun”)? How did a competitor like himself sleep at night knowing he took that awful contract from the Lakers two years ago, rather than taking less money and giving his team a chance to compete in his washed years like Dirk and Duncan did? How superhuman was he when he played an entire NBA season with a broken finger, AND won an NBA Championship? How ugly were his sneakers? How hilarious was his “Kobe System” ad with Kanye West? He was arguably the most underrated in-game dunker of all-time, but his Slam Dunk Contest victory in 1997 was pretty weak. Shaq asked him “how his ass tasted” in a freestyle, but he got the last laugh, winning two titles to The Diesel’s one after their infamous breakup. He began his career as a lockdown defender, but lived unfairly off that reputation for about seven years longer than he should have. He was the closest thing we’ll ever see to Michael Jordan, and he was the closest thing we’ll ever see to Michael Jordan. He was more talented than Jordan, but less of a leader.
By now you realize the conundrum that is defining Kobe Bryant’s 20-year professional basketball career. He’s probably one of the five most decorated players ever, but should be remembered as one of the 10 greatest players in NBA history. A laundry list of flaws prevent him from elevating into the top five, not the least of which are his selfish tendencies. Kobe could perhaps play even longer if he were to adjust his game, play less minutes, and take less shots. But Kobe didn’t get to be Kobe doing things other people’s way. It was always on his terms, even in his personal life. Bryant fell out with his parents after marrying a woman who was not Black in his early 20s. They didn’t speak for years. And even after he wronged that woman, it was hard not to empathize with him after she threatened to take him to the cleaners in their divorce settlement. After all, “she wasn’t with him shooting in the gym.”
Kobe is now left to contemplate life after basketball. (AP Photo/Alex Gallardo)
There’s probably another thousand words worth of Kobe material that didn’t make this column, but the point of this career retrospective is that even after 1,300 games and nearly 33,000 points, there’s no right or wrong answer to the question, “Who is Kobe Bryant?” Only the residue of ambiguity remains, for the 15-time All-NBAer was the product of the pure and the poison of pro sports. He was equally the most self-aware and (somehow) self-absorbed athlete of our time. Kobe Bryant’s greatest achievement might be providing unparalleled fodder for pontification at the perfect time for the sports media consumer. Mike was gone, but within that same window social media and the sizzling hot sports take took off.
Was he better than Jordan? Was he better than Shaq? Was he better than Duncan? Was he better than LeBron? Those lightning rod debates will rage on long after his name sits next to Johnson, West, Worthy and Abdul-Jabbar atop The Staples Center. The most skilled player in NBA history with the work ethic to validate it, Kobe Bryant should be remembered as a prisoner of his own endless talent, and a man consumed by his search of becoming the perfect basketball specimen…by any means necessary.