#kobe

On Saturday, I sat with my Sixth Grader and reviewed his PowerPoint presentation he was preparing for school.  He could do it on any topic and he chose Kobe Bryant.  Undoubtedly influenced by his Dad's many years of touting Kobe's accolades, the choice of topic was natural for him with limited research required.  We tweaked the PowerPoint.  We watched a half hour of YouTube videos highlighting Kobe's top performances. And we watched them again, legendary.

That evening, we rushed home from the school basketball games to watch the Lakers game.  Lebron James was about to surpass Kobe Bryant for third on the all-time scoring list.  Our entire family surrounded the TV and watched the game.  My Ninth Grader spewed stats building the case for Kobe vs Lebron.  I traded texts with friends, sharply debating the greatest-of-all-time.  The same conversations echoing throughout sports bars worldwide.

On Sunday afternoon, I was cleaning out the garage.  The Sixth and Ninth Grader played basketball in the driveway, breaking to check their phones for whatever it is they check their phones for incessantly.  My oldest read the tragic news on the screen, "Dad, Kobe died."

And so it was, the rest of the day following TV news tickers and breaking reports.  The overflow of social media overwhelming the senses with emotion.  Kobe, his daughter, beloved others - all lost.  It felt surreal.

I had the opportunity to see Kobe perform on many occasions, including two NBA Finals appearances one in L.A. and one in Philadelphia.  Stories I'll tell forever.  My boys grew up watching the tail end of his career live while resurrecting his former best moments on YouTube.  The boys and I watch his final game a few times a year, the night he dropped 60 points on the Utah Jazz when the cheering at the Staples Center seemed like it would never end even as his basketball career was doing just that.   It felt like we knew him.

We only really knew what he brought to the court or what the media shared about his personal life.  We didn't know the husband, the friend, the father.  We do know the tragedy of loss, the Sixth and Ninth grader navigating through it earlier this season.  

The importance of Kobe to our family isn't about the man, it's about the moments we shaped around him.  The loss runs deep, something evocative about those moments - watching so many games with my family, practicing Kobe's fadeaway jumper in the driveway, the way that my boys say "Kobe" after every nice basketball move they make, and the #24 jersey that is now-too-small for the Sixth Grader - hanging historic in his room.

A loss magnified to the world reverberates home.  We can all relate, past moments achingly remembered and future moments that were expected now without.  It shakes us, the spotlight of this moment awakening our emotions numbed from the blue light of busyness.  We're always too busy, until we're not.  The world pauses - a timeout.

One of the greatest joys of my life is coaching basketball.  I've coached pre-K to seniors and in every season there is a lesson.  When I join the CCA Middle School boys on the court this afternoon, I wonder what lesson we will mine from this tragedy.  I suspect there are a few:  Work hard, as there is no substitute.  Make your teammates better, raise the bar, and inspire others.  Appreciate the moments, they are fleeting.