A friend said Sunday — after hearing of Kobe Bryant’s death — that for Boston sports fans, he and Derek Jeter were a lot alike.
You could never rest easy in a game where Bryant and Jeter were playing. It was never over as long as Jeter had an at-bat left, and it was never over so long as Kobe was still in the game with the potential to go off.
Jeter’s Yankees won five World Series titles; Bryant’s Lakers won five NBA championships. They broke in within a year of each other. They lived to torture our teams out here.
How many times did Kobe Bryant just take a basketball game over and will the Los Angeles Lakers to victory? I never saw anyone who could take a game over the way Kobe could.
There may have been better players. Certainly Michael Jordan, and certainly Lebron James. Both could be human highlight reels, and I’ll bet there are more ESPN SportsCenter clips of them than there are anyone else.
But Kobe was different. There was a certain swagger about him. It wasn’t obnoxious. It was just there.
It was the same with Jeter. He didn’t do anything outwardly that aggravated you. Jeter didn’t run to first base after a walk the way Pete Rose did. And Kobe wasn’t all flash and dunks.
Jeter was content to beat you with a single to the opposite field if that’s what it took. And Kobe was happy to sink two free throws if that’s what the situation called for. Like Jeter, all he cared about was beating you. That’s my kind of player.
In basketball, of course, it’s much easier to be a hot dog. When we were younger, we had a term for a kid who — once he got his hands on the ball — never passed it to anyone. Hungo.
These kids never even looked at anyone. They’d just take it right down the court and shoot. And miss.
Kobe was kind of like that too — when he had to be. But he wasn’t a hot dog. You had to be aware that when he was out there, you could end up with the ball coming your way. Kobe wasn’t afraid to pass the ball. Or shoot it. Or drive to the basket and draw a foul.
He had a shooter’s philosophy, which meant that if the shots weren’t falling, take them anyway if they came from good looks. In Game 7 of the 2010 NBA finals with the Celtics, he only made six baskets in 24 attempts. But he sank 11 free throws because he drove to the basket too.
His 23 points led the team and the Lakers won the game, and the title.
I suppose by his standards, it was an ordinary performance, but by mine, that’s what made him a Hall of Famer. He found ways to win even when he didn’t have it all going.
We can’t write anything about Kobe Bryant without mentioning the rape allegations against him in 2003 (he was never convicted because the complaintant would not testify, and the charges were dropped).
I don’t know what it is that draws professional athletes and other famous people toward getting into this kind of trouble. It happens far too often, and to far too many people across too wide a spectrum, and it’s certainly troubling. These guys are young and rich, and they feel entitled for being so. If we could keep it from getting beyond that point, maybe we/they have a chance.
I remember thinking at the time that “you’re not some rookie or has-been player. You’re Kobe F. Bryant, for heaven’s sake, and you’re better than that.”
To the extent that anyone can rehabilitate his image from such trouble, Bryant did. He continued to play, and continued to be one of the all-time PIAs when it came to the Celtics, right up to the end.
When Lebron James passed him Friday on the NBA scoring list, Bryant tweeted graciously about it.
Whatever issues he may have had when he was just an 18-year-old kid, he outgrew and became one of the NBA’s all-time legitimate greats.
Now, Kobe and his 13-year-old daughter Gianna, plus seven other people, are dead in a helicopter crash and we — all of us — are left to pick up the pieces.
How terribly sad that in the same week Derek Jeter finds out he’s in the Hall of Fame, Kobe Bryant is dead.