The GOAT

It was the summer of 1996, and I was just about to enter my freshman year at a small southern high school in southeast Georgia. What a time? The mid to late 90s seem like a distant ancient time these days, but man, what an experience to be able to look back on. There were no cell phones and no internet. We relied on authentic social communication and interaction with our peers. My freshman year of high school was a peculiar one but nothing too crazy or outlandish to think back on. One of the most exciting things for me that year, other than being a typical freshman, was not making the junior varsity basketball team. The day I checked the list of names posted on the outside of the gym door, there was already a crowd of people checking and making fun of those who didn't make it. Boom!

I was one of the ones that didn't make it. So, you know how that went. The weird thing looking back on it is that most people standing out there making fun of people who didn't make the squad were people who didn't even try out. Kids are weird, man! Even in the nineties. How are you making fun of someone who actually had the balls to try out when you were too scared even to try. Yeah, I know. Nonetheless, I didn't make it and called my mom to tell her. She immediately came to get me out of school. I don't know why, but she came and got me and let me spend the day away from an environment of defeat and ridicule. That shit didn't stop anything because I tried out again the next year and made it but, that's not why we are here. The very next summer, the Greatest Of All Time was drafted in the first round by the then Charlotte Hornets. Kobe Bryant would later be moved to Los Angeles in a trade for veteran big man Vlade Divac. Immediately I was drawn to Kobe. The swagger. The confidence. A High School kid. 

Kobe Burst on the scene with the confidence of a seasoned veteran. He didn't hesitate in his mission to be one of, if not the greatest. Kobe's career started out as a rocky one riddled with limited playing time and injuries. A very early instance of Kobe’s greatness was during the 1997 western conference semifinals against the Utah Jazz. Kobe, a young rookie, took numerous shots down the stretch that didn’t come anywhere near the rim. Shooting multiple airballs and ultimately ending any chance for the Lakers to advance further in the playoffs. It wasn’t the airballs that stood out to me, but more so the courage it took as an 18-year-old rookie in his first playoff run to actually take that shot, miss, and retake it. See, Kobe didn't harp on the failure. The success was in the attempt. He had the courage to try. And even though he failed, the lesson he took from that moment propelled him into the discussion as the greatest basketball player of all time. Many analysts spent years tearing apart Bean's game. Mostly for more likable players such as Lebron James, or the idol he imitated himself after, Michael Jordan. Jordan was the bar for Kobe. Many hold Jordan as the GOAT, and it was Kobe's mission not only to join that conversation but also to pass his idol. 

For all his many accomplishments and his millions of adoring fans, some were actually turned off by his piercing confidence and unrelenting pursuit to be the best. Often labeled as selfish, but in reality, he was the exact opposite. Kobe gave his entire career to one organization, gave up his body, and gave up time with his family perfecting his craft for those that paid hard dollars to watch him play. See, Kobe never shorted the game, the process, or its fans. He gave it his all every time he touched the court. Never one to shy away from a challenge, he pushed himself to breaking points time and time again. Sure, the accolades and stats are all there—even the numerous snubs from biased sportswriters not giving him his just due. But there's a reason all his peers and competitors place him in the discussion while those that never played consistently disrespect his legacy. I will never forget the 81 points against Toronto, the 62 in 3 quarters against the Mavericks, the stretch of 40, 50-point games. The trophies. The cheers. The boos. The Pain. But what I honestly remember the most out of everything is how he greeted his wife in the tunnel. The images of him courtside with his girls. The girl dad. Kobe was more than the greatest of all time on the court; it was what he embodied off of it. His Mamba Mentality changed my life during the darkest moments I have ever faced. Under seemingly insurmountable odds, I didn't know how I would come back, but I knew I could. It's the confidence in taking the shot for me. As long as I got breath in my body, I'll always take the shot because that's where the true courage resides. Sure, we may miss but take the opportunity to miss again because you might just make it. Kobe mirrored his game after who the world views as the GOAT, but, to me, he's better. That's not a debate for me anymore. We can all use our own eyes and decide who we believe should carry the title, and that's Kobe for me. Then, again, they do call me Kobe Carter. Along with Kobe's wife, MJ helped welcome him into the illustrious NBA Hall of Fame recently. It's still hard to imagine him not being here anymore. But that legacy will go on forever. Mamba Mentality teaches us all to be the best versions of ourselves. That's what GOATS do…impact many generations to come.