In today’s FOX Sports Insider: The city of Los Angeles mourns its fallen hero … get to know the 49ers’ Raheem Mostert … and Joe Montana has some sage advice for Tom Brady. No life — or death — is more or less important than another. Not Kobe Bryant’s, nor his daughter Gianna’s, or the seven other victims of the tragic helicopter that fell to earth on Sunday. Not those who pass silently and anonymously every minute of each day, either from old age with a lifetime of memories or at the very beginning of it before a single one has been created. Yet there is a reason why certain deaths make us feel a particular way, and there have been few in recent times that resonate more strongly than that of the retired Los Angeles Lakers’ superstar. In truth, more than a day after his passing, it is as much about us as about him. We burn with the grip of sadness for cherished family members and friends because we knew them and saw them live their lives, celebrated and laughed and cried with them. Our inner circle makes us feel things, love, joy, protectiveness, frustration and so much more, in a way that others generally can’t penetrate. Bryant had his own family that will miss him on a level beyond anyone else, but he also entered the lives of millions far beyond simply watching him play. That’s why there is still only one thing anyone is talking about today, and why that will continue for the next while. That’s why there is a lingering sense of loss for so many, not like losing a relative but not far from it; a genuine emptiness, regardless. As the reality of Bryant’s death dug in, so too came the tributes at locations near and dear to him. The area around Staples Center and across from it at L.A. Live in the heart of the city resembles a monumental shrine. When I visited early on Monday, there were candles and caps, countless Bryant jerseys, messages and mementos. Someone had set up a makeshift basket on the ground where well-wishers could take a shot in his honor. We want all kinds of things from our lives. Comfort, safety, stability and warmth. Once those basics are out of the way, we seek entertainment. Bryant was a walking movie, but also a lot more. There were lessons to be learned in the way he focused and showed passion and strived, and yes, the times he failed both personally and professionally, too. He didn’t matter more than anyone else, but he impacted a greater number of people than most of us can ever hope to manage. Whether by making us happy or gloomy, through inspiration or example, by living his life in the public eye and never shirking from it, he held a presence. Sports, for those who hold them dear, provide the backdrop to our own story, something to share and delight in, something to distract us from difficulty, to bond generations and provide heroes to aspire to. Bryant the hero was depicted at another popular spot for visitors on Monday, at the famous mural of him outside the Shoe Palace store on Melrose Ave. in Hollywood. The painting shows him in mid-air, arm outstretched, soaring toward an imaginary hoop for a thunderous dunk. By mid-morning, thousands of Post-it Notes with personal messages had been stuck to it. Down in Orange County, where Bryant made his home and lived his recent life as father first, businessman second, with basketball often an afterthought, they will miss him, too. Near his Newport Coast residence, another location swiftly filled with flowers. At cafes and restaurants he was known to frequent, there were signs, messages, and words of remembrance. So many, yet still a drop in the ocean compared to all the spots where Bryant’s passing was felt. He was a global star for an international game. For Angelenos, Bryant was in some ways the figurehead of a generation. He made it okay to be proud to be from these parts, an area of the country sometimes derided as being fake or shallow. He oozed star power and the pursuit of excellence, but now he also represents something else, something we didn’t want him to be. He is who we will think of, perhaps first, when we consider sporting icons who left us too soon. He is the reason an NBA game, completely appropriately, was cancelled — and why perhaps tens of thousands will turn up at Staples Center on Tuesday night anyway, even with the Lakers’ regular-season meeting with the Clippers having been called off. In Los Angeles, it hasn’t felt quite right since that most sudden of Sunday shocks. There has been a general sense of unease in these parts, a strange pall that no one can adequately describe. Bryant was an athlete and a leader. He didn’t change the course of world history, but he made the time he lived in more memorable. Creating memories — so many of them and so dramatic — is why his name is held so fondly. Late in life, you’ll likely be able to count on two hands the number of news events where you can recall where you were, who you were with and how you heard about it. Think about it now for a moment. Chances are, you’ll remember the details of Kobe Bryant’s passing, however long into the future it is before your time comes. Which, in a sense, is all you need to know about the meaning of who we just lost. Here’s what others have said … Paolo Uggetti, The Ringer: “Ask anyone in L.A. on Sunday why Kobe resonated with the city, and most begin at the same point: He came, he won, he stayed, and then he won again. As the NBA trends increasingly toward player movement, Kobe looks like one of the last one-town superstars. His career was defined by a mythical level of passion and commitment that bred a unique form of loyalty. His own carefully crafted Hollywood story became a mirror for those who had moved to Los Angeles, worked hard, and made it big, and an inspirational model for those in the process of trying.” Ramona Shelburne, ESPN: “He reached out to athletes across all sports. He cold-called writers like J.K. Rowling, wanting to talk storytelling. Business leaders, actors, musicians, directors. And he didn’t just call them. He called them every day, sometimes three times a day. Hounded them. Just trying to understand what made them great and absorb whatever knowledge or inspiration they would give to him. In a way, it was audacious of him to think he could glean enough in a few calls with these masters of the universe to master their crafts himself one day. There’s that word again. Audacious. That was Kobe.” Ross Andersen, The Atlantic: “In time, Bryant’s relentless ethic of self-improvement seemed to bleed from his basketball game into his personality. He appeared to realize that there was more to life, or at least more to legacy-building, than competitive aggression. Bryant softened in a human way that has so far eluded Michael Jordan, who, despite being celebrated at every turn, could not conceal his odd, ultra-competitive streak of bitterness at his own Hall of Fame induction.” |
