Yesterday Kobe Bryant died when his helicopter, carrying him and 8 other people, went down in Calabasas, California.
There were no survivors. kobe.
While many people probably found out online, I found out when two separate friends texted me simultaneously. My immediate response was one of confusion.
“What? How?”
To which they told me, “Helicopter crash.”
Back in 2010, I worked at a video game store called Game Factor. One day while working I had someone come in and tell me that Will Smith had died from a helicopter crash. Then another person told me the same thing. And another.
Come to find out, someone had started (what ended up being) a false rumor and it caught fire.
When I first heard of Kobe’s passing, that memory is immediately what jumped into my head. And so, like many others, my initial thought was simple:
This can’t be real.
But as time went on, and more information came out, it became readily apparent that Kobe was, in fact, among the 9 people who lost their lives that morning.
Over the next 24-36 hours the world erupted; first in disbelief, then in mourning, remembrance, and opinion.
Many people simply sent their condolences out into the ether. Others shared fond memories and moments. And a few others, for better or worse, dug up recently buried stories.
One of my favorites was the story of Kobe contacting Louisville’s own Kevin Ware. Kobe called Kevin shortly after Kevin had broken his leg (on national television) during the NCAA tournament. Kevin Ware shared that he had “always been a Lebron guy, but when Kobe reaches out to you…”
Kobe & Kevin went to set a friendly competition of who could return to health first; Kevin with his leg, Kobe with his Achilles.
Suddenly the Internet was littered with memes that had now become memories, words of appreciation that would now become eulogies, and opinions that would now become points of conversation.
And one of the more confusing conversations that began bubbling to the surface was that of Kobe and his alleged (but probable) rape accusations.
When I first saw this come up,
I didn’t like it.
I understood it—or so I thought—but something about it rubbed me the wrong way. Partially it was the timeliness, which felt inconsiderate. But I think it also had something to do with what felt like an attempt to (selfishly) politicize someone’s death.
This perception lasted until last night when a girl shared an article regarding the story and asked (paraphrased) if Kobe had done anything since then to help support women who had been affected by sexual violence.
Within the comments many people shared my same criticism of it feeling inconsiderate or rude — one person even asking “you had YEARS to ask this, why now?”
To which she responded (once again, paraphrased), “as a non-basketball fan, I hadn’t thought of him in years. Until today.”
And that made a lot of sense.
For those of us who follow sports closely, it’s easy to assume that the names we see every day are the names everyone sees every day. We view athletes as being bigger than life. And so it’s understandable that we also wouldn’t consider that anyone could simply forget KOBE even existed.
But if the most notable thing to you about Kobe’s life was the rape trial (having happened more than 15 years ago) it makes sense you wouldn’t have thought of him in a while — and it also makes sense that it would be the first thing you remembered while remembering him.
Suddenly, my opinion on those bringing up that story changed. Suddenly, my opinion of how that girl was criticized changed.
She wasn’t being inconsiderate or harsh, but maybe how she was being treated was.
Later that night I messaged her and shared that realization. Not because she needed me to tell her. But because I found it fascinating that I, in short term, could go from thinking poorly of people saying things like she had, to all of a sudden understanding (and even valuing) that it was being brought to the table. That felt worth sharing.
It’s inarguable how overwhelming and widespread Kobe’s positive impact has been.
But the rape story, while never proven (but if we’re being honest…probable) was both absolutely horrific and also absolutely part of Kobe’s legacy. And during a period in which legacy is the topic of the day, glossing over the totality of his life felt disingenuous.
Even still, it was an extremely layered topic that I had trouble wrapping my head around.
At what point, after how many good acts, does a person who had done something so heinous once again become worthy of praise?
Should those who had only been positively impacted by Kobe not be encouraged to share that?
And how are those two things accomplished without re-opening a very particular type of trauma for those who may be carrying it?
After thinking about it (and in large part thanks to my conversation with that girl) here’s the best that I could come up with:
1) To some people, like this girl, what Kobe did may never be redeemable.
It doesn’t matter how many he helps or how much good he does — it will never eclipse the damage done.
And to be honest, I think that’s okay.
For some people some things may absolutely be unforgivable. And that is something, for those of us on the outside, that we need to find peace with. And as such, we need to find peace with this story once again coming to the surface.
Which brings me to my second (and probably main) point…
2) In reality, the amount of people shining a light on the darker side of Kobe’s legacy is a relative minority.
For every 1 person sharing the prior, I’ve seen dozens (if not 100s) of people gushing over Kobe’s positive impact.
But here’s the thing: it’s the collective of those individual opinions—positive, negative, and anything in between—that provide us with a full & complete narrative regarding Kobe’s legacy.
That aspect of his legacy existed. And as such, that aspect deserves to be heard.
Kobe wasn’t all good. Kobe wasn’t all bad. And, in fact, for many of us who do look back at him fondly, it was not Kobe’s greatness that captured us — but rather his continued battle to become better than he was.
Kobe’s legacy, if I had to distill it to a single core concept, was one of someone who never viewed themselves as good enough.
So, by nature, his legacy was that of an imperfect person.
This isn’t to imply that the terrible things he did were okay — they weren’t. But it also isn’t to say that the good things he did weren’t good enough either — they were.
Instead, this is me implying that every opinion, good or bad, whether it runs counter to your perception of him or not, is important to be heard.
And it’s important because it’s these varying opinions that allow us as individuals to come together as a collective and truly represent who and what Kobe was — who and what Kobe is.
Kobe is every inspirational story.
Kobe is every grown man crying on national television.
Kobe is every kid admitting that they miss their idol.
And Kobe is every sexual assault victim who has been left reeling today.
Eventually, some of us will die remembering Kobe as a hero. While others will die remembering him as a monster. All of that is okay.
And it’s okay, because today, as we recap Kobe’s legacy in its totality, here is the truth:
All of that is what Kobe was.
All of that is what Kobe is.
And today, I think that’s important to remember while remembering.
By Nick Sorrell.
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