I recently stumbled upon an old article written by the great Jim Murray. It was a piece about a 19-year-old Kobe Bryant, the baby faced phenom fresh off his first All-Star appearance. A kid just waiting to take the NBA by storm. Reading each of Jim Murray’s superbly crafted sentences was like taking a trip in Doc Brown’s time machine. He describes a young Kobe full of such vigor and life that those who met him were awestruck by his presence. He paints a picture of a youthful apprentice with the world at his fingertips, the newest member of hoops royalty eager to begin his reign atop the NBA.
I remember that Kobe.
I miss that Kobe.
Where did that Kobe go?
I sent the article to a friend who helped put things into perspective. He made the analogy that we begin each new phase of our lives as a blank canvas. At first our potential for beauty is endless, but along the way we make choices and confront situations that will define our painting. How we handle those encounters will make up the canvas of our lives, and ultimately only we can control how our “masterpiece” is received.
Along the way Kobe made decisions and chose to interact with others in ways that have made his self portrait glaring, dark and, some would say, ugly.
One foolish decision in Colorado instantly shattered the image he worked so hard to cultivate. To make matters worse, it didn’t end there. From June 2003 to October 2005, one Kobe mishap after another slowly tore down the curtain he hid behind for so long. When the veil finally fell and an exposed Kobe stood atop the broken pieces of his public persona, he had a decision to make.
He could try and put the pieces back together, or he could simply start over.
Needless to say, Kobe’s PR machine went to work trying to repair his once squeaky clean public reputation. Unfortunately, this error in judgment ignored one key fact that can’t be overlooked.
That being, we aren’t that stupid.
Next: What happened to “Our Kobe?”
As consumers living blindly in a Nike world, we were once naive enough to believe “Our Kobe” was a fun loving family man with a smile like gold. That, of course, was before we learned about the Colorado incident and lived through the premature demise of a Lakers dynasty. As his castle crumbled around him we saw how Kobe responded when he was the last man standing. Some of us admired his perseverance and determination, but we couldn’t help but question whether the Mr. Clean image we were spoon fed for years was anything close to a fair representation of who Kobe really was.
Repairing Kobe’s image at this point in the game was a lost cause. It was simply too late. We already knew the once mighty wizard was just a man behind a curtain. We had seen a darker side of Kobe, and we would never accept his “good guy” act again.
This was the moment when his people should have let the old smiling Kobe go and embrace a new darker version of Kobe.
They knew the wholesome image of Kobe hawking burgers for McDonald’s was not going to work anymore, so why not embrace the role as the leading villain of sports? It sure beats the seemingly contrived, almost phony public persona we see now.
While we may not know who the “real” Kobe is, we do know his goal is to be the greatest basketball player to ever live. He’s honed his craft by watching tape of Michael Jordan in hopes of improving on his every move. The problem is that somewhere along the line Kobe began mimicking Michael’s public persona, when a smiling-happy-go-lucky-advertiser is nothing close to who he really is.
Since 2003, Kobe received more ruthless criticism than any celebrity athlete in history (until recently, when Tiger Woods gave us more sex scandal/Nickleback jokes than we know what to do with).
Look Kobe, we understand why you are dismissive and rude. In fact, after the way you’ve been publicly trashed for the better part of a decade I would expect nothing less. It’s okay to be a little angry, and it’s okay to show it. Just don’t put on a happy face and act like everything is fine and dandy.
Since Kobe is obviously reluctant and uncomfortable being “the bad guy”, someone close to him should have just made the executive decision for him. Flash back to 2006. All the stars were aligned for Dark Kobe to emerge and dominate the NBA: the world was against him, Phil came back to coach him, he changed his number from 8 to 24, he started responding to Black Mamba. If ever there was a moment to become the leading villain in sports it was then.
Next: It was time for a change. Time for Dark Kobe.
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Dark Kobe was a newer, tougher version of the old one. Less Emilio Estevez and more Judd Nelson. Hey, people reinvent themselves every day in America, do you think anyone would have blamed him?
It was almost as if he tried to be Dark Kobe, but just would never let himself fully commit. Everything came to a head last June. The Lakers winning the 2009 NBA Title was a massive catharsis for Kobe fans across the nation. It was our time to stick it to Shaquille O’Neal and his awful rapping, our time to laugh at a pouting LeBron James, our time to shove this in the face of every critic who said Kobe was too selfish to win a title on his own.
I was praying Kobe would go all Half Baked on us and call out everyone in the audience like Mike Jordan did at his Hall of Fame acceptance speech: “Eff you, eff you, eff you, you’re cool, eff you.”
So what happens?
Kobe brings his wife and daughters on the floor with him and turns the post title celebration into a manufactured family love fest. Kobe my man, come on. I know you love your daughters and have tried to repair the public perception of your family for years, but it all feels so artificial. A bit too forced. A little, well, fake.
Speaking of contrived, I’m still trying to pretend that “Kobe: Doin Work” never happened. If there was ever an opportunity for me to rewrite a moment in TV Movie History, this would be it. Sorry Spike, but I would have nailed that piece. My movie would introduce the world to Dark Kobe, a vicious Kobe Bryant hell bent on destroying everything in his path to an NBA Title.
Of course the argument against Dark Kobe is that people don’t identify with the “bad guy”. The “bad guy” doesn’t sell merchandise, right? Ask the 76ers how much money they made selling Allen Iverson jerseys over the years and you’ll see that argument doesn’t hold much water. People would embrace Dark Kobe for the same reason they embraced Allen Iverson: he’s real.
That’s all we’ve ever asked from Kobe, just be real. Don’t feed us a heeping spoon full of garbage because it’s what you think we want. Just be you Kobe, we’ll accept you for who you are.
Not everyone can be Luke Skywalker, some of us were meant to be Anakin… and that’s not a bad thing.
It’s not too late.
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