Remembering Kobe Bryant: Boston's Goodbye to the Ultimate Rival
By: Schwartz
It's been a tough week for sports fans all over the world with the news of Kobe's passing hitting harder than anything I can ever remember. It's the saddest sports story I have ever experienced. In memory of the legend of Kobe Bryant, I'm inviting in my friend Schwartz to share his perspective on the Lakers icon as a Boston Celtics fan. You can find my Kobe memorial piece on my page as well.
Boston's Goodbye to the Ultimate Rival: by William Schwartz
A lot of stories have a great hero. It’s easy to create a lovable, daring knight in shining armor on a white horse. But the tales that set themselves apart have a memorable, iconic villain. The Joker to every Batman. For me, growing up as a Boston Celtics fan, our Joker was Kobe Bryant. Along with Paul Pierce and the rest of our own big three, he breathed life into one of basketball’s fiercest rivalries after a bit of a lull in the competition. And man did he ever give it life. By the time the Celts had picked themselves out of their early-00’s funk, Shaq was long gone from LA, as was much of the team that had brought three consecutive titles to Los Angeles. But what remained was the Mamba. A fierce, fiery competitor whose desire to win, to be the absolute greatest, outweighed any on-court losses his team ever sustained. Just an 8-year old boy at the time, I was confident that there would be no challenge to the newly-assembled superteam in TD Garden, sure that nobody would go toe to toe with the stars Boston had brought together. And then, Kobe did just that. Although we bested him in the first spring of the big three’s time together, it was humbling watching one player will his team to stand up, and fight blow for blow against one of the most talented teams ever assembled. Thanks to that signature mamba relentlessness, that is the last time Celtics fans have gotten to watch their team win a championship. The defeat didn’t knock him down or make him feel hopeless in the face of a true challenge. Rather it drove him, right back to the finals the next year even when our star-studded roster couldn’t find our way to the party. Most pointedly, the year after that one, he finally got what all great competitors want - the rematch. After watching him come up just short two years before, it was clear that Kobe was driven in a way that I’ve seen few athletes be; absolutely locked in, singularly focused on not just winning, but breaking his rival. And of course, he did in one of the most grueling, heartbreaking series I’ve ever watched. One final time, in the house that will forever be his, he became a champion.
Of course, I wouldn’t have ever complained if my team had coasted to two easy, comfortable rings. But what we got was just as memorable, and something I’m forever grateful and honored to have seen. We got to see an athlete elevate, above the court, above the rest of the league, and give us something to fight against. Every time our team went up against Kobe was a special day, not just because of the history behind the jerseys the players wore, but because of the man who wore the one with number 24 (or 8). He always strove to be his absolute best, and pushed the people around him - with or against - to become their best. Kobe made the league better, the season better, and the future of the sport better. Even today, our young future superstar and my own favorite player Jayson Tatum idolizes Kobe above all else. Jayson tries to do everything the way Kobe would have, and takes 24 not just as a jersey number, but as the hours in each day you need to focus on becoming the very best. Jayson, so many more of the talented young players around the league and I’m sure many more for years to come, looked at Kobe as a level to strive for, and motivation to push himself to where he wants to be and beyond. Most of all, in all of the battles with the Celtics, Kobe carried himself like a class act and a sportsman. No matter how heated the competition became- and it was truly intense at its best- he was nothing other than respectful of everyone who shared the court and arena with him that night. The Celtics semi-famously seriously considered drafting him before deciding on Antoine Walker, and he always believed that they made a mistake. But rather than lashing out with his words, he only ever wanted to show us our error on the court. And that mission was thoroughly accomplished.
I remember the last time the Celtics went into his house, during his final season. They may have won, but it was far from a youthful, rising team rolling over a has-been superstar. No, Kobe battled to the last, putting up 34 points in one final Mamba performance against his bitter rival. My immediate reaction was relief, found in the assurance that my team would never have to withstand another devastating scoring barrage from one man in the biggest moments of our season. But now as I write this piece, there’s nothing I’d love to see more this week than for #24 to walk out onto the Parquet floor, and give it everything he’s got one last time. I’m incredibly lucky I got to witness such a legendary career, and even more lucky to be able to remember it forever as an unforgettable chapter of basketball’s most storied rivalry. We couldn’t have asked for a better Joker, and it’s hard to say we’ll ever watch a rival who we respect more for pushing competing his hardest every time he touched the court, and for respecting us in return. Like Heath Ledger, the actor who portrayed the actual Joker we grew up watching, Kobe is gone way too soon. He had so much more left to give, and I was looking forward to the years ahead of seeing him not as an enemy or a threat, but as a friend of the sport, whose only remaining mission was to help the game, grow the future, and mentor anyone who was willing to work their absolute hardest. It still doesn’t feel real that those years will never come. I’ll miss you Kobe; all of Celtics nation will. Thank you for everything.
