4.13.16

22/50, 60 points, and the clutch game-winner. 

And on the day the warriors went 73-9 too. 

Today, a compelling story came to an end. A story to rival tales of fiction, with an ending too good to be true. Storytelling that put to shame most of the books I've read, and the spectacles I've watched - 

Because this was real. 

A story that spanned 20 years from beginning to end. Twenty years of mere mortals watching a young boy from Philly carve his name into the history books.

This story, like any other begins with an underdog. 

Drafted 13th as a 17 year old, many saw through his youth and discovered his prowess. But many also doubted him. They wanted another year of college. They said he was too rough round the edges, too young for the big league. You know, the classic underdog fighting against the critics and the naysayers. 

The thing was, he didn't promise immediate success. In fact he started out relatively poorly, averaging 7.6 points in 15.5 minutes a game. Nothing spectacular, perhaps something expected out of a rookie who was too young to even vote. Yet, he made a promise: to work harder than anyone else in the world. 

Fast forward to today, and we have a stockpile of Kobe stories from his peers that attest to his work ethic. Testimonies of his long hours in the gym, the time spent in the wee hours of both morning and night, shooting hundreds and thousands of jumpers. To the point where he could tell Gerald Henderson when the rims were slightly lower than regulation, just because his shots weren't going in. 

We know the 5 rings. We know the countless accolades. We know the thousands of points he racked up for the Lakers. We know the struggles he had after Shaq left, and the post-2010 Lakers. We know that his last season as a Laker was also his worst. 

I saw him struggle so much this season. He couldn't drive to the basket as well. His shot was off, especially for the first part of the season. He would go below 50% for most games, something I could not believe was happening to someone like Kobe. 

Someone like Kobe. Who, like all other legends, I believed couldn't fail. Even with his age, I still expected greatness. I thought it would be easy for him. It should have been, right? 

I wanted to believe in a fairytale ending, no matter how unrealistic it was. I wanted the young Laker stars to carry him to another playoffs, to another NBA final. I wanted, so badly, for Kobe to get his sixth ring so that his other hand wouldn't get lonely. Never mind that these 'stars' were Randle, Russell, and MVP candidate Marcelo Huertas. 

I still believed, if not to battle the dubs for first, than at least to sneak into 8th so that Kobe would have a shot. 

IT DIDN'T MATTER what I believed, of course. So I forgot. I tried to forget that Kobe was playing. I focused on the dubs and their unbelievable play. Those sweet passes, the swishes and splashes, the illegal screens and illogical screams of 'AND-ONES'. I was enamored by Chef Curry and his long-range superpower, and I forgot what it meant to yell 'KOBE!'. Hero ball took on a new mascot. 

Until today. I decided to watch both games: the dubs going for 73, and Kobe's last. At the time, I couldn't decide. I figured I had two eyeballs, so it should have been fine right? 

Curry would splash his threes on the left screen, and the Lakers would feed Kobe the ball on the right. The dubs were playing the better game: it was clearly better basketball, and Steph was on his way to 400. It was the same tantalizing basketball they offered throughout the season, and I was satisfied. 

But the right screen kept pulling me back. Laker-Jazz basketball was pretty ugly by all means, and the Lakers seemed destined to lose. This was nothing out of the ordinary, but there was one difference: Kobe was playing a whole lot more. 

They showed Kobe's stat line throughout the night. From 5-13, to 7-20, and so on. He wasn't having a great game, but this game was much better than any I've seen of him this season. He had 20+ by the half, but he shot real bad from three. The refs were sending him to the line, so his numbers weren't all that bad. At the half, I thought that Kobe would hit 30 or 40, and that would be great even if the Jazz won. 

I wanted to watch the Warriors make history, but something about the... lights in the Staples center made it so captivating. The lights... and Kobe. At no point in time did I think that the Lakers would win. I just wanted to see Kobe shoot every shot he wanted. Ugly, ill-advised, well-defended shots. It didn't matter, because this was his last game. 

This was his last game. 

His last. 

The dubs won it by the third. I muted the game, and saw Hollywood movie magic unfold before my very eyes, live. 

Kobe scored 23 in the fourth, and every bucket took me back. It took all of us back. Hazy memories, YouTube videos, NBA highlight reels. He became the Kobe we knew. His play at this stage of his career, at this time, at that time, required the suspension of disbelief. 

But this was real. REAL. REAL. REAL. 

Shot after shot, camera pans to celebrities and ex-teammates, commentary on everything Kobe. 

Real. 

"Bryant for the lead... YES!" 

The lights, the magnitude of the moment, just one man against time. 

We all love moments like this. The underdog rising to his potential, and achieving greatness. The boy who sees his hard work pay off. The one who everybody doubted and criticized finding eventual success. 

This story was the one of the old veteran rounding off his career with a BANG. Sixty. Oh boy, sixty. 

People were surprised of course. I was flabbergasted. I was sweaty just watching the game. 

But I don't think any of us (except Jazz fans) can be upset about the result. 

We saw this limping legend refuse to fade gently into the night.

Instead, as he always did, 

Kobe seized the basketball, rose above all else,

and his star shone bright for one last time.