Kobe Bryant’s unexpected impact

Kobe Bryant’s death, along with his daughter Gianna and seven others, shook me to my core. But the response since has proved that he really is immortal

I was driving home around 8:30 p.m. on Sunday night when I realized I was fresh out of breakfast food for the upcoming week. So, as one does in this situation, I stopped at the grocery store to grab what I needed. Since I arrived dangerously close to the store’s designated closing time, all of the self-checkout machines were closed, leaving the remaining customers in a lengthy line at the only register that remained open.

When I finally reached the front of the line, I was prepared to pay for my things and make the long, block-and-a-half trek back to my apartment. Before I could hand the cashier my credit card, she asked me the question that we’ve all come to expect in these types of situations.

“How are you doing?”

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Normally, I default to a simple “good” or “fine” without giving it much thought, and in hopes of moving along swiftly with the rest of my day. That night, it was a loaded question.

Hours earlier, Kobe Bryant, his 13-year-old daughter Gianna (Gigi) and seven others had tragically lost their lives in a helicopter accident just outside of Calabasas, California.

I had been thinking about it all day and it was still on my mind at that exact moment. But, truth be told, I was a little scared – maybe embarrassed – to admit that I was shaken by the deaths of people I didn’t know and had never even met. I told her I was good and went on my way.

It was a definite lie. I was not good, not even OK. I spent the whole day trying to grapple with my emotions following this unspeakable tragedy. I kept asking myself question after question: Why was I having such a profound emotional response? Why had these deaths hit me harder than others in the past?

When rapper Mac Miller tragically lost his life a year-and-a-half ago, I remember talking to friends who admitted that they were emotionally shaken and that they had been brought to tears by the news. It was certainly understandable. (Miller was only 26 when he passed away.) While I was certainly a fan of his music, I remember being a little confused.

“How can anyone get so emotional over the loss of someone they’ve never met,” I thought to myself at the time. To me, at that moment, family members and friends were one thing, while celebrities and those who I didn’t have a personal relationship with were in an entirely different category. Was I sad upon hearing the news? Definitely. But emotional? Not exactly.

When I first saw the TMZ story pop up on my phone earlier in the afternoon, I rejected the premise. I immediately – perhaps foolishly – thought that there must be another Kobe Bryant. The Kobe Bryant that I knew had just been on my TV screen, sharing a moment with LeBron during a nationally televised game in Philadelphia in which LeBron passed him on the all-time scoring list.

That Sunday was supposed to be reserved for endless debates about whose career was greater, with Kobe’s fervent fanbase preparing for the onslaught of criticism from those ready to place LeBron in a tier above the former Lakers star.

When it became clear that the TMZ story was accurate, rather than a mistake or a hoax, my jaw dropped and my face froze. You mean to tell me that Kobe Bryant – the same guy who once limped to the free-throw line following a torn Achilles Tendon and calmly sank two free throws before walking to the locker room under his own power – is dead? Impossible, I thought.

Kobe’s insatiable thirst for greatness and basketball immortality is well-documented. His maniacal work ethic inspired stories that sometimes seemed like they were rooted in myth, rather than reality. If I told you he built his very own personal bedroom inside the Lakers facility so that he could train and workout 20 hours a day, you’d have to at least consider the possibility. If there was anyone who was going to survive a helicopter crash, it was going to be Kobe. He would find a way, just as he did most of his career.

It wasn’t until later on in the day, when I learned that his daughter Gigi was with him, that I really lost it. Then came the news that one of Gigi’s teammates was aboard the helicopter with her parents. Whenever children are involved in these fatal stories, they take on an entirely new meaning. This cruel aspect of an already horrific story forced me to consider my own mortality, and the finality, and fleeting nature, of life. Perhaps selfishly, I started to think about my own family and the horror of losing a family member – a sister, a husband, a father.

Every time those thoughts started to infiltrate my mind, tears began to well up in my eyes. It was a sickening, sinking feeling and, unfortunately, it wasn’t going anywhere.

These feelings dragged some especially painful memories to the front of my mind. I thought about the senseless tragedy that claimed the lives of two of my high-school classmates roughly a half-decade ago. That was the last time I was overcome with these intense feelings of sadness and legitimate can’t-believe-it shock. In the wake of that tragic day, I was overcome with emotion while in the presence of the families involved. The whole ordeal was simultaneously sad, heartbreaking and emotional.

I still freeze up a little thinking about Kobe and Gigi in those final moments – father and daughter –  once it became clear what was imminently awaiting them. After I learned of Gigi’s involvement in the crash on Sunday, I kept thinking about Vanessa Bryant and their other three daughters, the 17-year-old Natalia, 3-year-old Bianka, and Capri, just 7 months old, and the fact that their lives would be forever altered. The most heart-wrenching detail of this entire tragedy is that Capri Bryant will never truly know her own father. It’s tough to reckon with that cruel reality.

I kept refreshing Twitter throughout the day, hoping – praying, even – to see something that would tell me this was all a dream and came across a photo of the Altobelli family. There were five of them in total – both parents, two younger daughters and an older son. Looking at the picture forced me to reckon with the fact that this family would never get the chance to recreate that image, that a son and a daughter would be forced to soldier on without parents and a sibling. It’s not fair.

It’s not fair that Vanessa has to attend her own daughter’s funeral, just like it’s not fair that the rest of the families involved have to somehow find a way to move on without wives, daughters, husbands, fathers, and siblings.

"No parent should have to bury a child … No mother should have to bury a son. Mothers are not meant to bury sons. It is not in the natural order of things.– Stephen Adly Guirgis, The Last Days of Judas Iscariot"

This quote, from Stephen Adly Guirgis, rings true now more than ever. Having witnessed firsthand the unrelenting, profound sadness that accompanies the death of a child, I can’t even bring myself to comprehend or imagine what lies ahead for any of the families involved.

Right as the world was learning about the details of this horrific event, I had the channel turned to NBA TV, in anticipation of a Nuggets-Rockets game that was set to be broadcast on those airwaves. Brian Shaw, one of Kobe’s former teammates and coaches, was on the pregame studio show that day as more information about the tragedy began trickling in. Shaw, visibly affected by the news, offered one of the most poignant responses to the day’s events.

Fighting back tears, and recalling his own family’s tragic past, Shaw stated, beautifully and eloquently:

"“One of the things that kept me going is the fact that, while they were here, we lived and we made a lot of memories together. And when they’re gone, that’s all that you have, are the memories that you made when they were here.”"

It’s a tragically sad sentiment, but one that the family members and friends of those involved can take solace in. While those memories will undoubtedly serve as a reminder of this fateful day for the foreseeable future, I hope that those who intimately knew the victims can instead focus on the joyous times and memories.

Even for those who didn’t personally know Kobe, there’s seemingly an endless supply of memories to draw on to distract from the fact that he’s gone, or to help the healing process. As a 25-year-old, I had only recently become acquainted with an NBA that doesn’t include Kobe Bryant. From the moment I started watching NBA basketball, Kobe was prominently involved, first as the young, boisterous sidekick, overqualified for the role that he inhabited, then as the moody, petulant one-man show that captivated audiences but struggled to find the same success that he enjoyed early on in his career.

I remember where I was during Game 7 of the 2010 Finals when he cemented his legacy with a second title after his messy divorce from Shaq years earlier. I can recall most of his farewell tour season and, like the rest of us, still have vivid memories of his one-of-a-kind 60-point finale at Staples Center against the Utah Jazz.

I’m not sure any other player could have pulled off what he managed to that night. He had spent the entire season up to that point ignoring teammates and firing up wayward heaves that often didn’t find the bottom of the net. But that night? He could do no wrong. He dragged the Lakers back from a 10-point deficit in the span of a minute-and-a-half with vintage mid-rangers and the trademark tricky, crafty footwork that became an essential part of his offensive repertoire in his twilight years.

It remains hard to believe that Kobe Bryant is gone. The shock value that statement carries may never wear off, but the indelible memories he created while he was here will live on forever. They will live on in the minds of those who he inspired.

There are so many players in the league today who have patterned parts of their game after him. There are likely countless others, on playgrounds and in gyms across the country, mimicking his scowl after hitting a soul-crushing buzzer-beater. And whose name do we shout before launching a crumped up piece of paper toward the trash can? It’s always been, and will always be KOBE!

Kobe Bryant is eternal. His fingerprints are all over the basketball world and, if the outpouring of love over the last few days is any indication, he won’t soon be forgotten. Neither will Gigi, as her memory will help inspire the next generation of women’s hoopers.

One short month ago, the video of Kobe and Gigi taking in a Nets-Hawks game was merely a reminder that he had embraced fatherhood,  seamlessly transitioning into the role of teacher and coach, hoping to pass along his wisdom and basketball brilliance to his aspirational daughter. Now it’s hard to watch that 10-second clip without tearing up, knowing that was one of the last moments they spent together; father and daughter, side-by-side, sharing the game that they both loved.

Turns out, we were all right to think that Kobe was indestructible during his playing career. Because even in death, he lives. Gone too soon, but never, ever forgotten.