With End Almost Here, Kobe Bryant's Humane Side Finally Revealing Itself
OKLAHOMA CITY — It was the last time for me.
Of the 1,397 games Kobe Bryant has started in his career, I've been there in person for maybe 1,250.
Too many to count.
Way too many highlights to remember, frankly.
For that, just like his fans, I give thanks.
All that everyone really needs to give, though, is respect.
To see someone work so hard, with such passion to succeed over such a long period of time at his chosen craft, is a rare pleasure.
People ask all the time (though less often than before, when he was more widely despised and I covered every Lakers game as a beat reporter): "Do you like Kobe?" And the easy way to skirt the question from a journalistic perspective has always been to say unwaveringly: "I have the utmost respect for Kobe."
Bryant played the penultimate game of his 20-year career Monday night, his last one on the road.
Kevin Durant and Russell Westbrook presented a precious gift book on behalf of the Thunder to Bryant before the game—then crushed him on the court just as relentlessly as he has always schooled those two to behave. With the Thunder up by 42 points midway through the fourth quarter, Westbrook walked toward Durant with a grin—"Hey, K!"—bringing the box-score sheet out for them to share a few laughs.
Durant's postgame explanation for shredding Bryant so viciously in repeated one-on-one third-quarter matchups was, in a very Kobe way, the ultimate sign of respect.
"I tried to destroy him every chance I got," Durant said, "and send him off the right way."
Durant offered some context, harking back to entering the NBA in 2007: "Once I got in the league, he easily became my favorite player." The delineation about getting into the league is important, because before that, Durant said, he was merely "a fan" who didn't understand what Bryant was about.
"All you hear is the hate," Durant said.
Once Durant realized the inner workings of what it took to be that great a player…"My level of respect just raised up 10 notches."
With that, the seeds of a real relationship—one that involves Bryant as both friend and mentor—were planted.
Bryant has mellowed in recent years, with fatherhood being a key component in that evolution, but this farewell season offered up an unmistakably large dose of soft stuff that was previously tucked away.
Bryant said he particularly appreciated Oklahoma City's book of player messages to him, in which Durant wrote much of what you read above, because he wants keepsakes that help jog his memory, "especially very personal things."
I spent some time with Bryant before the game Monday. When Bryant plays his final game Wednesday at Staples Center, I'll be at Oracle Arena, where the Golden State Warriors will likely make NBA history with their record-breaking 73rd regular-season victory. (One Kobe confidante's response when hearing that I'd miss Kobe's last game: "You suck.")
In the spirit of Bryant's basketball farewell causing respect to spill over into sentiment, allow me to tell some personal tales, too.
I have liked Kobe over the years. Mostly.
He mockingly offered to let me borrow a security guard upon hearing that I'd averted a would-be mugger one night in New Orleans. He came up with the most natural smile I've ever seen on him and excitedly swept my then-eight-month-old daughter out of my arms to hold her without even asking. On the rare occasion that I, not he, was injured, he reached out with well wishes (albeit also mockingly).
By the same token, no one—and I mean no one in my entire life—has breathed quite the sort of long-lasting, profane, venomous fire at me that Bryant did when he was trying to get me to refrain from breaking news of his wedding. It was not the only time he has been angry about something I've written.
But only a fool would be so shortsighted as to dwell on those disagreements. Aside from what a legendary player and fascinating character Bryant has been to cover over the years, I'll just say I've seen too much good.
Observing the Make-A-Wish Foundation meetings he long kept private despite accepting every single request led to two of my favorite articles ever—about sick kids' joy in meeting him and the enduring power of his visits even after the kids had passed.
He was kind at times in his youth—in a more courteous manner. He has been kind most of the time in recent years—in a more generous manner. With children, it has been constant: He has been adept at reaching and warming them with his smile and tone, and he has grown to share that more and more with everyone else.
I'll remember basketball stuff like the look of the inward slope of his back that is the hiccup in his jumper when he gets tired, because it so rarely shows up. And from being around him, I'll remember how he shuffles from side to side when he's so excited he can't stand still, on or off the court.
The humanizing of Bryant that the public has gotten to see this season isn't the bottom line, but it is a growing part of his puzzle.
There were 13 first-quarter points from Bryant on Monday, but seriousness in his game has been rare this season. The Kobe attitude Durant so respects appeared for a bit of the third quarter, even if the typical results from years past didn't follow. Fatigue had set in, and Durant kept beating him, but Bryant just kept asking for more—even ordering Oklahoma City's Steven Adams at one point to give the ball to Durant and get out of the way for Durant to go at Bryant again.
"Shows the type of person, player and competitor he is," Durant said.
Durant and Westbrook loved the idea hatched by the Thunder organization for a gift book with personal, handwritten messages. The Thunder wanted Bryant's final gift from another team to be the most meaningful they could give, and Durant and Westbrook pushed to make sure all the guys participated and gave it their all—which resulted in Nazr Mohammed's flowing, pretty cursive, Adams' sarcasm about not being able to respect Bryant until he comes to visit Adams' native New Zealand and Westbrook's heartfelt message about growing up as an L.A. kid idolizing Bryant.
After Bryant was finally done with the 112-79 defeat, the line of Thunder players, the media session and the usual throng of picture-hungry devotees (which included Oklahoma Sooners star Buddy Hield on this night), he headed down the Chesapeake Energy Arena hallway one last time.
He had already been stopped time and again when he stopped one more time on his own.
Bryant wanted to initiate a farewell hug with the usher who has guarded a post near the visitors' locker room year after year.
Marvin Mack is a former high school girls basketball coach—as anonymous as he might seem, his arena name tag actually has "Coach Mack" on it—but after so many players have blown by him so many times, why would he ever expect this player at this time to salute him?
"That was a surprise," Coach Mack said.
Long after Bryant and his entourage had headed into the late night, Coach Mack stood with a silly smile still glued to his face.
That intimidating competitiveness is securely Bryant's legacy.
But there's something to be said for the world seeing a good guy who is saying goodbye.
Kevin Ding is an NBA senior writer for Bleacher Report. Follow him on Twitter, @KevinDing.
.jpg?w=480)
