Why do we always find it necessary to compare great players to one another instead of appreciating them for their greatness alone?
In his book, “The Four Loves”, C.S. Lewis said this: “The human mind is generally far more eager to praise and dispraise than to describe and define. It wants to make every distinction a distinction of value; hence those fatal critics who can never point out the differing quality of two poets without putting them in an order of preference, as if they were candidates for a prize.”
I can’t disagree with Lewis. This is precisely what we do. But it doesn’t have to be that way. Nobody peers out onto the jaw-dropping beauty of the Grand Canyon and says, “That’s pretty awesome, but it’s no Bryce Canyon.” We just appreciate it for the gloriousness that it is. We don’t feel compelled to compare or contrast it with any other canyon, but if we do, it isn’t in order to ascribe greater value to one than the other, it’s only to point out how they’re different or how they’re similar.
Kobe Bryant, one of the greatest to ever lace up a pair of hi-tops recently announced his retirement from basketball at season’s end. I know many of you are already mentally placing him in your preferred pecking order of great players.
But I’m not going to do that. I’m not going to tell you where I think he ranks among Laker greats or all-time greats. I’m not going to give you a list. I’m tired of lists. My purpose isn’t to create social media banter for you. I’ll leave that to list-happy ESPN. Nor am I going to mention how poorly he has played this season, for one season does not whitewash a lengthy achievement-filled career or diminish greatness.
Instead, my one and only purpose is to tell you what made Kobe Bryant great. I’ll tell you why watching him play the game of basketball brought you and me great pleasure and great joy.
He is an artist. Not only was he exceptional at his craft, but he was also aesthetically pleasing. Kobe has made no bones about his being a student of one Michael Jeffrey Jordan-in every way. He even walks like Michael, talks like Michael, and carries himself like Michael.
On the court: his impeccable footwork, his body control, his creativity, his ball-handling, his majestic textbook shooting form, his fadeaway, and his insatiable will to win were all vintage Michael. If you wanna be like Mike you don’t mimic and model Paul Mokeski.
Oops. I have a confession to make. I almost fell into doing the very thing I just railed against; I was about to compare Michael and Kobe and then realized what I was doing. Even I like to compare. But alas, I will not.
I remember when I saw Kobe play for the first time. He oozed head-turning athleticism and obvious swagger. He was only 17 years old when he played his first game; but you knew he was, for lack of a better word, special.
What struck me most about Kobe when he came on the scene was his brazen willingness to take crunch-time shots; now he didn’t always succeed; you might remember his four consecutive air balls in game 5 of the 1997 Western Conference semifinals versus the Utah Jazz. But he didn’t mind taking the heat if he failed.
Isn’t this what we love to see in all walks of life?: fearlessness. This is what we loved about Jordan, Bird, and Magic. There are great players, but beyond them are the transcendent ones who combine immense skill with a robust appetite to win by their willingness to put the burden of winning or losing on their back. Kobe was and still is one of those players, despite his diminished skills.
How can you tell a transcendent player from merely a great player? Transcendent players are the ones we compare up-and-comers to. We say things like, “Could this guy be the next Jordan or the next Shaq or the next LeBron or the next Kobe. No one ever wondered who the next Barkley or Payton would be.
Another trait of a transcendent is that they cause us to sit on the edge of our seats in anticipation of their next spectacular feat. You could love them or hate them, but you were compelled to watch them. We put everything on hold to put ourselves in position to watch them. We fit them into our schedule.
Transcendent players also win. Tiger Woods didn’t become must-see television on Sunday afternoons because of talent alone. He won. He won often. So too did Kobe. For the majority of his career, the last couple of years not withstanding, his Lakers were in the mix to win championships. Kobe won five. He was the necessary Robin to Shaq’s Batman for three of those titles, although when Shaq left for Miami, the Lakers had in many minds, become Kobe’s team. He went on to win two more rings as the indisputable top dawg.
Like Jordan, Kobe is the extremely rare blend of charisma, swagger, superior athletic ability, basketball IQ, skill, gracefulness, and work ethic.
His departure from the league at season’s end will leave a void that will never be refilled. Only time will make us forget how truly special he was. Ten years from now, even watching footage of his glory years won’t be able to replicate what they meant to us and did for us the moment they happened. His 81 point game against Toronto can be watched on film but can never be experienced again. Those emotions have already been spent.
Kobe, thank you for being a part of our lives. Thank you for the memories. Thank you for the joy we experienced watching you play the game that we, both you and I, love. It’s been a grand treasure. I appreciate you Kobe “Bean” Bryant! Next!
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