Why I Am Not a Fan of Kobe Bean Bryant

The NBA playoffs are well underway. The omniscient realm that is Twitter is full of sports experts trading 140-character volleys for each others' basketball souls. In the spirit of full disclosure, I wanted to share why Kobe stans and some Lakers fans and I will never agree, regardless of what transpires this summer.

I never have been and never will be a Kobe Bryant fan. Sure, I thought it was cool that he took Brandy to his high school prom, but in retrospect, how big of a deal was that? However, dating choices aside, Kobe and I have been at odds for fifteen years.

In June of 1996, the Charlotte Hornets had the 13th pick in the NBA draft. They selected Kobe, a promising young guard with the talent and pedigree to jump straight to the Association from high school. And apparently the ego to match. Kobe made it clear that he didn't want to play in Charlotte, and I was left with a 7-foot Serb--thanks for the flopping memories Vlade.

Now, if I'm eighteen and about to be a millionaire, sure I'd rather play in Los Angeles than Charlotte. If I'd grown up focusing on basketball my whole life, sure I'd rather play on the shoulders of Magic and Kareem than for an expansion team with just ten years of history. But those aren't the decisions draftees are supposed to make. Kobe acted as if he was above the system and robbed me of the chance to see greatness unfold in my hometown.

While I don't like Kobe, I do respect his game. He's a perennial all-star, undoubted future hall-of-famer, and arguably one of the top ten players of all-time. Hell, as someone who battles with occasional fits of ADD, I even admire his singular focus on his craft and his indomitable will. But my sentiments will never surpass that. You won't be able to convince me that he's anything more than a gifted athlete and dedicated basketball player. Just as I won't be able to convince you he's deserving of anything less than hardwood sainthood.

We'll just have to agree to disagree.

P.S. Kobe versus Lebron is a legitimate argument. Kobe versus Jordan is not. No matter how dedicated I am to art or how skilled I become, repainting the Sistine Chapel does not make me Michelangelo.

1/21/11

I haven't left my bed today. The sadness is numbing and I have little desire to do anything but lay here. I don't know what to do without him; though I know this isn't what he would've wanted. I won't wake up tomorrow and have everything together again. That can't happen with his absence. I want to tell myself that he's in a better place, where he can now watch over me. That's what I want to tell myself. All that I'll hear, though, is that he's gone. He is gone. My grandfather is gone and I miss him. I miss him incredibly.

24

I'm 24 and am just now feeling that I'm starting to grow up. I feel this marker in my life, because I actually care about what I'm doing with my life. Not how others feel about what I'm doing or outside opinions, but an internal drive to accomplish and create. The feeling is somewhat foreign to me. I'm not used to it and will undoubtedly falter in my drive along the way. But hey, I did say that I was starting to grow up.

THC withdraw

It fucking sucks.

My sister

Sometimes the parallels are so strong I have to remind myself that we don't actually share blood.

Then I thank the Creator for giving us a shared spirit.

Mary

She's becoming a bit controlling. I think it's time for a trial separation.

After my birthday.

Uncomfortable truths

She won't be my lover. I can't be her friend.