On Greatness
“It will be ok. They have no idea what’s coming next.” — Kobe Bryant, speaking to Rachel Nichols as a 18-year old rookie for the Los Angeles Lakers.
My first memory of Kobe Bryant was when I was 15. He made his debut in the NBA All-Star game in Madison Square Garden. He was this Afro-ed young dude who was supposedly the heir-apparent to my favorite (basketball) player ever — Michael Jordan.
I didn’t really like him.
He threatened the legacy and reputation of my childhood idol. When you are an African-American male, you are always looking for examples of who you are and who you can become. You are looking for living texts that help you to write your own story. And although I had a plentitude of amazing role models, starting with my own father, there is a need for us to have an example to look up to outside of the house. An example of greatness. That was MJ for me.
My next memory of Kobe came when I was 17. It was actually two memories spliced into one. The first was of the crossover and alley-oop to Shaquille O’Neal in game seven (!) of the Western Conference Finals against the Trailblazers. Then, a short time later, it was him cooly knocking down jumpers over the defense of the Indiana Pacers to win his first NBA championship.
I started to add to my working definition of greatness after that first championship. Jordan had retired and there was that Afro-ed dude again. His greatness had grown and I began to be enthralled by it.
At the same time he clinched the title, I was heading to Towson University for my first year of college. After being at the height of whatever popularity I had at my high school, I had to start over. I imagined myself as the Afro-ed dude I had begun to at least like. Just a couple of weeks before I was set to enroll in a life-changing four years of education, I visited the local Giant food store in my town.
A woman who graduated from my high school a couple of years earlier with my brother was preparing bread in the bakery section. I said, “hi” and she said “Hey — aren’t you little Dennis,” (referencing my brother). “Yes, I am. Don’t you go to Towson?” “Yes,” she said. “Well, you might know me as little Dennis right now and certainly no one knows me at Towson yet. But by the end of Freshmen year, everyone will.”
She looked at me, politely laughed and said ‘ok,’ like a lot of women say to brash, young (mini) Afro-ed boys who say those things.
*****
My next memories of Kobe flooded my college life. Dunk after dunk. Shot after shot. Title after title. Many of those moments are stored deep in my heart as my best friend Ozzie is in a lot of them as well as my future wife, Tiffany. Kobe’s rise mirrored my own as I grew from an immature freshman to a somewhat mature sophomore and finally to the suit-wearing president of the Black Student Union, which was named the most outstanding student organization at the conclusion of my tenure. Kobe was now my MJ. I saw myself in him — a desire to strive for greatness.
To strive for greatness is a life-long pursuit. It can be a polarizing journey as some will see you as an upstart that threatens the legacy of someone else; while others draw closer through appreciation. College is when I grew closer to Kobe.
Kobe and I went through some pretty big break-ups in 2004. He split with Shaq. I left Towson. We went through some years of individual triumph after then — I got married in ’07; Kobe got his only MVP in ’08. We both transitioned from being members of teams to being solo artists.
I managed the beginning years of being a teacher (after transitioning from a brief stint in the media — you could call that year my Smush Parker year). Kobe managed becoming the main guy in a city with unrelenting high expectations. We both struggled. Then, after getting my footing — I began teaching high school students. Kobe got Pau Gasol. I had two extremely successful years there as a Junior Varsity basketball coach and English teacher. Kobe won back to back titles. When he won the first one apart from Shaq, I felt his happiness leap through the screen. I had just completed a challenging yet successful year in high school and unbeknownst to me, this part of my career was building towards my eventual state teacher of the year award.
What drove me then was what I saw in Kobe, especially in game one of that Orlando Magic series, I wanted to be great. The greatness that I still pursue is not one of self-aggrandizement; it is a greatness that fully maximizes my God-given potential for the benefit of others. The true pursuit of greatness lies in considering the worth of others as a reason to strive for never-ending self-improvement. This ceaseless process of self-improvement is what I wanted to emulate from Kobe.
“Those times when you get up early and you work hard, those times when you stay up late and you work hard, those times when you don’t feel like working, you’re too tired, you don’t want to push yourself, but you do it anyway. That is actually the dream.” -Kobe Bryant
***
As the years passed, more memories of Kobe would complement life memories that I made. He got two gold medals. My wife and I welcomed two children into the world. He had endless buzzer beaters. I won (another) championship on an adult rec league team with Ozzie. Kobe scored 81 points (!) in a game. I met president (!) Barack Obama (those seem like equivalent experiences).
After Kobe won his last championship, his years were filled with injuries and watching the next generation take over. His fire never left. One of my last two Kobe memories was when he scored 60 points in his last professional basketball game. It was such an example of greatness. Not just because of how many points he scored, but because of his unyielding desire to win — the Lakers won that game. If you watched that game, you would be mesmerized not just by his shot-making, but by the sheer delight and joy throughout the arena. Because that’s what greatness does — it inspires joy. Greatness is inspirational, because when someone demonstrates it, we get a glimpse into the purpose of God. We get to see our deepest fear at once illustrated and dispelled — that we are indeed powerful beyond measure. And do you know what his last professional move was? A three-point fade-away shot? A game-winning lay-up? No — it was an assist. And that is also what true greatness is — it is an assist to everyone watching; it says ‘now it is your turn.’
My last memory of Kobe was over 48 hours. I was out of town at a speaking engagement and that night I saw the last tweet of his life, one congratulating LeBron James on passing his career scoring mark. Greatness is a community endeavor, it always welcomes more to the table.
After I concluded my engagement, I went to have a late brunch before getting ready to depart for home when I got the news. I was in shock and waited for the correction to the news that Kobe Bryant had died. I called my wife — she and my son were dumbfounded. I have only found a semblance of words since; and they probably amount to the balance of this entry.
The last 22 years of my life have had Kobe in them, now each future milestone must just have the memory of him. There is a power to memory, though, when a person has tried their best to maximize their purpose. And that is what speaks most directly to me — what most directly defines greatness.
Greatness cannot be found in the compromise of who you believe you were created to be. It cannot be found in making yourself the standard by which others are judged. It cannot be found in just words and deeds.
Greatness is found where the vision we have for ourselves and the vision God has of us are in alignment. It is when we seek to manifest our purpose through a ceaseless commitment to improvement. Through failure. Through ridicule. Through othering. Through misunderstanding. Through trauma. Through success. Through failure. Greatness shines through it all and it lights the way for others, like an awkward (mini) Afro’ed African American boy who always dreamed of being great. With his whole heart.
It still lights the way for me because at its core, greatness will always be an assist.
Rest in peace, great one.
