There are no rational debates.

Kobe Bryant haters love statistical analysis. They also, more fundamentally, hate Kobe Bryant. For years, critics of the Los Angeles Lakers guard have argued that he can’t be counted among the all-time greats until he matches Michael Jordan’s six career NBA championships—which would be a more reasonable requirement if it weren’t open for revision now that Kobe seems capable of fulfilling it.

Skepticism means rejecting that which can’t be proven.

Solipsism, on the other hand, means embracing that which is beyond proof.

I’m not suggesting that two more Larry O’Brien trophies will put Bryant on Jordan’s level. Greatness is a qualitative variable, and no mere number can confer legendary status. But Kobe haters have to live with the standard they set. In a game where every player shoots at the same basket, it isn’t fair to move the hoop whenever your opponent drives the lane.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

Truth is in the mind of the believer.

If there’s a lesson to be learned from the capriciousness of the anti-Kobe crowd, it’s simply that prejudice isn’t governed by the laws of the physical world.

NBA stars tend to attract cult followings. Kobe Bryant, Michael Jordan, LeBron James—they’re sacred figures, idols whose names are never to be uttered in vain. The catch, of course, is that mindlessly dogmatic reverence is often countered by mindlessly dogmatic blasphemy. Bryant bashers will argue that Kobe’s disciples are delusional. I’d counter that the pot ought to look in the mirror before it calls the kettle black.

It’s good to be smart.

It’s better to be certain.

Kobe haters may not produce much intelligent insight, but at least they’re confident of their own correctness.

The head obeys the heart’s commands. We think therefore we objectively are; we are therefore we subjectively think. If Kobe Bryant catches Michael Jordan it won’t change anything for Kobe Bryant’s staunchest detractors, who care far less about external facts than they do about internal feelings. Every sentient mammal perceives the world with his emotional brain. The one with the ability to describe what he sees shouldn’t expect to produce much honest-to-God wisdom with his hopelessly biased words.

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Alice didn't meet many Kobe deniers in Wonderland, but she did learn a thing or two about the malleability of the human intellect:

Alice laughed. "There's no use trying," she said. "One can't believe impossible things."

"I dare say you haven't had much practice," said the queen. "When I was your age, I always did it for half an hour a day. Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast."

Which suggests that persuasion is an inherently limited art form.

Because no measure of convincing can unseat a cherished conviction, and any rhetorician who claims otherwise is either speaking with passion or only just saying, is all...