*Heavy, heavy sigh.

Growing up, man... my dad was hard on me. So much so, I'm still healing from some wounds. Consequently, I grew up having great disdain for older men and had very few male role models. You know...  It's important for boys, especially teens, to have someone they look up to because they soon grow to become adult men.  Just like I have today.

So concerning the very few men I looked, there stood one ever tall, flawed, and reliable - Kobe.  You were my childhood hero.

I fell in love with basketball when I was ten, but I was trash since I had just returned from Africa. I didn't have the luxury of joining any basketball camps, so learning how to play was left up to me. During this era, it was tough to make friends as an African kid since you were considered an "African booty scratcher."  

Fortunately, my boy Jenung embraced me, first, as only a friend and the brother I never had.

And he would soon teach me the fundamentals to help me get going. After continuous long hours of self-practice, playing by myself, and studying Kobe highlights, I finally got good. So good that I'd eventually go on to play high school and AAU basketball, and have most of my neighborhood calling me Kobe instead of Kofi, my middle name. My game was just like yours. Some even said I looked like you. 

However, beyond all the athletic accolades and star glamour, I loved you most for being human. Though we distinctly differ in nature, I connected with you on so many levels. You were your father's only son just like I was and were also once your father's greatest disappointment - a sentiment I've carried most of my life.

Being a fan since the early 2000s, I watched you face endless criticism for your actions on and off the court. Some of which you earned and some I couldn't even vouch for, though I wanted to. Yet somehow, someway you would often step on the court unfazed and silence all the noise. It baffled me how someone under so much scrutiny and attack could be so composed and never succumb to the external pressure.

And then to my shocking surprise, I saw you a breakdown and cry in an interview one day.  Completely human; You did hear all the negativity and slander talk after all. 

You see, just like you, Bean, I've also shed many tears in silence. And at times, the weight and pressure of all I face simply get to me.

But you finally explained how you're able to keep going. "Everything negative - pressure, challenges - was all an opportunity for you to rise." This mentality is what enabled you to step on the court, excel at your job, and be at peace. Basketball was your haven, and so is mine, even til' this day. When I'm overwhelmed with stress and filled with distress, the court is often my place of solace.

It has wiped away many of my tears. Having watched you over the years, you were the perfect harmony of hard work and flash. Your style profoundly resonates with me because you were the embodiment of intensity and grace.   

And If I ever loved you for what you did on a basketball court, I simply loved you more for being a loving, gentle father. Your eloquent speech was poetry to my ears, and your laughter soothing for my soul. 

I had ten missed calls and several texts asking me bout you last night. I even had middle school teachers and coaches reaching out to me.

So Uncle Kob, why you have to break my heart?  I know you said to keep going, but today... the going is merely tough. 

You know, I only hope to touch as many lives and capture as many hearts as you did before it's my time to be at rest. 

And If I'm ever graced with parenthood, I now know of a name to give my son.

Thoughts and prayers with the Bryant & Altobelli family and all those aboard. 

Wasn't even trying to make this a long rap but couldn't hold this in for too long, smh.

...Nah, you probably weren't a bigger Kobe fan, but it's chill.

Love you, Bean! My swag.

#MambaForever.