Love, Hate and The Black Mamba

We have completely forgotten this now, but Kobe’s first 60-point game of his career came a few weeks prior to 81, when he dropped 62 through three quarters against the Dallas Mavericks. 

Had he been needed to play the fourth quarter of that night’s blowout win, does anyone doubt he could have scored 80 or more? 

That is the thing about The Black Mamba; you never quite know what to expect, but you are never quite shocked. 

Ironically, Kobe’s 81-point outburst came just hours before my buddy, Trevor, and I argued over which player we would choose to start an expansion team.  Trevor chose LeBron, and I think I went with Tony Parker, simply for the Eva Longoria Factor. 

I was kidding, of course (well… kind of).  Anyway, Kobe was quickly dismissed as a headache who shoots too much, and someone who could not lead a team from one side of a street to the other.

After that night’s epic performance and performances that followed, however, my mind was made up.  With the possible exception of Chris Paul, I would not take any player in the league over Kobe Bean Bryant. 

I don’t care that he is a ball hog; that he is egotistical, arrogant, somewhat insecure and more obsessed with his place in history than with winning another ring—and he is all of those things, by the way—if my Chicago Bulls somehow acquired him today, I would drive to Chicago and roll out the red carpet myself. 

Love him or hate him—and I still somewhat hate him—Kobe Bryant is the best player in basketball right now.  Period.  

Maybe, that All-Star Game in NYC was not a going away party for Michael Jordan, I thought going into the 2008 NBA Finals.  Perhaps it was a passing of the torch.

I have never been happier to be so wrong.

In two short weeks, Kobe Bryant—with an assist from the Boston Celtics’ defense—showed the world what I had suspected all along.  

Kobe Bryant is definitely not the next Michael Jeffrey Jordan.  Jordan would have never allowed the Celtics to come back from 20-plus down in the second half to steal game four. 

Jordan would have rather died than allowed his Bulls team to throw up a garbage performance as the Lakers did in the series clincher.  And Michael Jordan would have never, ever, allowed someone like Paul Pierce become, unquestionably, the best player on the court.  

The thing is Kobe was not terrible in The Finals, averaging close to 26 per game.  Kobe Bryant just was not Michael Jordan, and it is finally apparent that he never will be.  On a more personal note, he is no longer a threat to me and my childhood memories. 

I do not have to worry about, one day, sitting down with my kids to talk about the greatest player I have ever seen and having to utter the words “Kobe” or “Black Mamba.” 

Suddenly Kobe Bryant is just another great, great player passing through my world.  Will I tell my kids about the nights I stayed up late to watch Kobe Bryant play?  Sure, I will. 

But after the 2008 Finals, I do not have to worry about talking about The Black Mamba the way I do His Airness.

Suddenly, Kobe Bryant just became a lot more likable.    

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