my favorite sports villain

The year is 2002. I was a young New Jersey Nets fan excited to see my team in the NBA finals for the first time.  I knew we were playing the Lakers, a team that had won the championship back to back years with two of the most dominant forces on the same squad. I watched you destroy my favorite team— single-handedly taking over games 3 and 4 going on to take home your third championship on the Nets home floor.  It was from that point on where I began my lovable hatred for you.  

 I was born in 1994. Jordan just retired from the league and I was still too young to remember Jordan’s final 3-peat.  Then, in 1996, a skinny kid at about 6’6 from Lower Marion High School (who was arguably the most hyped high school basketball prospect since Kevin Garnett at the time) came in the league. I still can't believe the Nets took Kerry Kittles over that kid from high school. I knew you were going to be special. 

It wasn't pretty at first.  I still remember in 1997 when you shot those airballs in the closing moments of the Western Conference Finals against the Jazz, and at just eighteen you didn’t seem to look sad or discouraged. You looked determined. You had this look that said, “this will never happen again.”

It didn’t.

You were hellbent after that to destroy anything that got in your path and did it with such ferocity and tenacity. You were different than the rest.  The countless 40 points, 50 points, 60 points, and shiddd even 81 points were something I admired even as one of your biggest haters. I used to be in my driveway shooting fadeaway jump shots— practicing your post moves. I couldn't understand how you were so good  at making such difficult shots.  

Rose Hill Gym. 2010. I was invited to attend a basketball camp. I had been to basketball camp before but this was the first time I had to showcase my skills in front of college coaches. To top it all of, I wasn’t having the best day either. Everything was kind of off.  The Camp Director told us that we were going to have a surprise guest speaker and I couldn’t care less.

As 150 kids sat in those old bleachers, a towering bald-headed guy sporting Versace shades, a white t-shirt, and sweatpants walks in. You told us all to stand up and we did.

“Now, only 3 of you stand up. That’s how many people in this gym will make it to the NBA.”

You left that gym telling a bunch of young high schoolers that they had the chance to not make it. I may have hated you in that moment, but something stuck. I never forgot that quote to this day. 

So before I shoot that paper ball into a garbage can, or move my bottom lip in front of my upper lip, or, shit,  even lace up one of your signature sneakers I’ll remember this: use negative energy to fuel positivity. 

Thank you, Kobe. 

Sincerely, 

one of your biggest haters