My Thoughts on the Tragic Deaths of Kobe & Gianna

I’m still processing the death of Kobe Bryant, his beautiful daughter Gianna (Gigi) and the 7 other individuals that perished on that ill-fated helicopter crash on Sunday. I’m with countless others in that I have never grieved an athlete’s death like I have Kobe’s, until this week. I find myself at quiet times — on an airplane, in the shower, in an elevator, welling up with emotion at the thought of this horrific tragedy.

I often deal with grief and hardship through writing. I found myself writing about Kobe this morning for 30 minutes on my flight home from of all places, Los Angeles. I realized after scribbling two full pages of notes why I was so upset. Kobe and I have shared so many similar experiences and have both grown up together. Athletes mark the passage of time, and the milestones and hardships that we encounter as time passes. Kobe to me was the singular athlete that has defined my childhood, teenage years and adult life.

Sports fans have their Mount Rushmore. Fans have their athletes that defined their childhood and adult years. Kobe was the only one for me that defined both my childhood and adult life. Michael Jordan, Tom Brady and Tiger Woods round out my Mount Rushmore. Derek Jeter nearly made it, but I’m more of a golf guy than a baseball guy, so he gets bumped from the list.

Kobe’s career (1996 – 2016) spanned the 20-year period of time where I went from an 8-year old finishing 2nd grade to a 28-year old man living in Chicago. No other athlete raised me from such a young age to an adult. Jordan inspired me to pick up a basketball but it was Kobe who taught me that an unwavering commitment and an indomitable will to win were paramount.

Kobe Bryant was born on August 23, 1978. I have a weird ability to recall athletes’ birthdays and I was always aware that Kobe’s birthday was a mere week after my birthday, August 16th. Growing up in New Jersey, I had a Kobe poster adorned on the back of my bedroom door. I can’t recall who gave me the poster, but I adored that poster of Kobe. The poster was literally the last thing I saw each night, before flipping the light switch. Kobe and I grew up together, as the months turned into years and years turned into decades, he was there with me every step of the way.

Kobe was drafted by the Charlotte Hornets in June, 1996, only to be traded to the Los Angeles Lakers for Vlade Divac. Just weeks later, my Dad took a job relocation in New York City and he informed his 4 children that we were moving to New Jersey. We too were packing our bags and moving across the country. In this case, we were driving 14+ hours in a minivan with 4 kids and a dog.

Kobe and the Lakers won their 3rd consecutive NBA championship in June, 2002, beating the New Jersey Nets 4 games to 0. That fall, I started my freshman year of high school. Nearly 4 years later, Kobe dropped 81 points in a January game against the Toronto Raptors. Just months later I graduated high school, and set my sights to college.

Fast forward another four years. Kobe is standing above the media members, celebrating his 5th and final NBA championship, after a grueling 7-game triumph over the rival Boston Celtics. Just weeks prior to this championship, I graduated from Syracuse University and started work at an advertising agency in New York City.

Come with me to April 13, 2016. Kobe’s playing his last game on a moribund Lakers team that would win 17 games. I’m standing in my hotel room in downtown Cincinnati, pacing the room as he nears 60 points. Kobe would get his 59th and 60th points from the free throw line in the closing seconds. My buddy Drew texted me the next morning, ‘Dude, Kobe scored 60 last night?!’

‘Yup’ was all I could say. I was as stunned as anyone. As I myself started to slip physically around this time, I couldn’t believe Kobe was dragging his 37-year old body around pin-down screens and pick and rolls to the tune of 22 makes in 50 shots.

Turn the page another 25 months. I’m 30 years old and playing in an early spring flag football game in Chicago. In the final drive of the game, I feel a searing pain in my right lower leg. I knew it was bad…I had torn my achilles. I grieved and was in a cloud of despair for weeks. No one could comfort me. I knew this rehab and recovery was among the longest of any sports injury. As I lay around my condo, pondering how I was going to beat this injury, I queued up videos and articles of Kobe’s recovery.

The guy was such a badass. He was indomitable. In my research, I also learned there had been a ton of advances in this type of surgery. Kobe sported a scar that ran from the bottom of his heel to nearly his knee (thankfully mine is less than 2 inches). His scar looked like a shark bite. Incredibly, Kobe posted gruesome pictures of the doctors performing surgery on his exposed achilles, with the foot long gap open. How did he have the ability to even want to look at those pictures, let alone share them with the world?

I ripped through article after article and channeled my inner Mamba and determined that no one would work harder than me in coming back from this injury. Kobe was there with me every step of the way, after every cone jump, after every short area quickness drill and after every box jump. I grinded away for months and months, and thought of him nearly every week. He was there with me, guiding me along, and pushing me to work harder. I wouldn’t be where I am today without his guidance and motivating words.

In June 2019. Kobe’s wife, Vanessa, gives birth to their 4th and youngest daughter, Capri. My own daughter, Summer Margaret, was born just weeks prior, on May 20th 2019. I too was a ‘girl dad.’ I too am ecstatic to be a father to a baby girl. She has me wrapped around her finger.

Follow me one more time, this time to January 26, 2020. My wife, Meredith, and I were excited to see our good friends, Ryan and Jess and their friends Jess and Don, for a late morning brunch in a northern neighborhood of Chicago. This was the first time we were going to meet their son, Greyson, in-person. The six of us (adults) shared stories, hardships and our new lives as young parents. We marveled at how something so routine as going to brunch, had now turned into such an endeavor with three young babies, all under 8 months old.

I returned home happy and restored. I was so grateful to see our friends and so happy that all of the babies were healthy. I hadn’t put Summer down when my buddy Drew texted our group high school chat that Kobe had been involved in a helicopter crash. My afternoon went sideways very quickly. I teared up, was irritable and paced our apartment, feeling helpless and defeated. I went for a 3-mile run, if only to distract myself.

I’m still grieving, and I don’t know if you ever truly replace someone as influential and so full of life as Kobe. I am gutted by the loss of his daughter, Gigi and her teammates as well.

Here’s how I’ll remember Kobe:

I’ll remember Kobe for the 81-point game, chin-jutting scowl after big plays and his unbelievable dedication to his craft and his willingness to outwork everyone. I’ll also remember his recent years, his post-playing career years. I’ll remember his work for children, for women’s basketball and the absolute love for his four daughters. I’m pained that he was just getting started on his next 40-year chapter. Heck, he still looked like he could lace them up and drop 28 on a random Tuesday night. More than anything, it guts me to know that his two youngest daughters won’t know their father. With that said, he died doing what he loved the most — being a father and coach to his talented and beautiful daughter Gigi. I’m devastated a life was cut short, and his daughter’s life, which was just getting started. I’m devastated for the other 7 individuals, including the Altobelli family, who lost a mother, father and 13-year old daughter/sister.

Kobe guided me through my childhood, and urged me to work hard during my achilles rehab, in the same manner that he attacked his own rehab from his ruptured achilles 5 years earlier. He was showing me the way as a parent too, in all that he did for his daughters. He taught me that when I wasn’t working on my game, someone else was improving their game. I had to put in the work. There were no shortcuts in life. Just sweat, dedication and focus.

Thank you, Kobe for being there every step of the way. You were there every day and week of my life, up until Sunday. Your legacy lives on in your beautiful family and the millions of people you touched across the world. I never met you, but you touched my life in more ways that you can imagine.