Why I Love/Hate Kobe Bryant

I grew up a Lakers fan. My dad was a Lakers fan, and it was passed on to me. I watched the great Lakers teams of the 80s. Growing up I had posters of Magic, Worthy, Scott, Cooper, etc., in my bedroom. When I played ball I even used to wear socks to my knee because of my love for Cooper and a wrist band at my elbow in honor of Scott (though I didn’t go so far as to sport the goggles of Worthy and Jabbar). I even remember Jeff Lamp. Nothing made me happier than watching L.A. beat the Celtics, Pistons, or Jazz. I stayed true through the mostly down years of the 90s. I suffered through the years of Jones, Threatt, Campbell, Ceballos and Peeler, while watching teams like Seattle and Portland get to The Finals. It sucked. Then things changed—the Lakers got Shaq and Kobe. They won titles and were again the glamour franchise in the NBA. Things were back to normal, things were good—until one man made me question my fandom. Kobe Bryant.

I hate Kobe Bryant. Not in the sense that I hate him, but in the sense that I hate certain TV or book characters; they aren’t real, so I can hate them. Bryant isn’t real to me. Kobe has single-handedly changed my love for the Los Angeles Lakers, and it has nothing to do with the whole Colorado rape case thing (it is amazing that he bought his wife a 4-million-dollar ring to help ease the pain). I used to be die-hard about being a Lakers fan, and now I can’t even cheer for them. I don’t like Gasol, Vujabic, Radmonovic, Walton, or anyone else on the team. But it all goes back to Kobe.

I try to like KB8/KB24, but I just can’t do it. I respect his ridiculous skills—I think he’s clearly the best player in the NBA (even though PlayBoyd would argue with me), but he has always carried himself like he was the best player in the league even before he accomplished anything in the NBA. He has this annoying sense of entitlement. He always looks so smug. In the 1998 All-Star game (Michael Jordan’s last before his Wizards comeback) Kobe busted his butt to outplay MJ in what seemed like an effort to symbolize a “passing of the torch.” Come on. Not that playing hard against MJ or in an All-Star game is inherently wrong, but it irritated me. Kobe didn’t even deserve to be in the All-Star game that year; he only started one game that season. But he had something to prove. There he was, a bench player, trying to one-up MJ, because it’s all about Kobe.

At times I like Kobe. In the 1997 playoffs the Lakers lost to the Jazz. In a deciding game 5, Kobe hoisted four air-balls in the closing minutes of the game. He was taunted mercilessly by Jazz fans. He doubled his scoring average the next year, citing the humiliation in Utah as part of his motivation. He has since become the best clutch performer in the league. The 2002 All-Star game was in Philadelphia, Kobe’s “hometown.” Philly fans don’t like that Kobe claims it as his hometown and they booed him incessantly throughout the game. Kobe responded by going for 31-5-5 in 30 minutes and won the MVP award. It made me want to love him again, the way that he responded to criticism and the hostile crowd.

My dislike reemerged in the 2004 NBA Finals when the Lakers lost to the Pistons. In the series Kobe took 29 more shots than Shaq, while Shaq shot 63% from the field to Kobe’s 38%. Shaq averaged 4 points more per game than Kobe on 6 less shots per game. Nice work Kobe. Way to take the best player on the court out of the game. That crap was hard to watch as a Lakers fan. That offseason he used the Clippers (what up Clipper fan) offering him a contract as leverage to run Phil and Shaq out of town. It was exactly what Kobe wanted. The Lakers became Kobe’s team and he was out to prove his greatness. At times he did—getting Dwight Howard up close and personal, averaging over 35 ppg one year, 43 ppg in one month, and scoring 81 points in a game. Those numbers are amazing. He became the first player in NBA history to outscore an opposing team through 3 quarters—Kobe 62, Dallas 61. Wilt Chamberlain thinks that’s stupid. But with Kobe scoring at a ridiculous clip the Lakers didn’t win.

Speaking of playoffs, in typical Kobe fashion, proving his point (or greatness) has always been more important than winning. In a 2004 playoff series against the Kings he decided not to shoot after being criticized for shooting too much. L.A. lost that game. In the 2006 playoffs against the Suns, Kobe decided he would only shoot the ball 3 times in the second half, even with the Suns up by 15 at halftime. Why? To prove that his teammates are not reliable and that they need Kobe to drop 35 to have a chance of winning? Way to put the team first Kobe. Point taken—you are more important than winning. You truly are MJ’s heir apparent. . .

Have you ever watched Kobe give credit to others? It looks so unnatural to him. When asked about another player he seems to get this look on his face (probably wondering how Jordan would answer the question) like, “why aren’t we talking about me?” Kobe seems to overemphasize injuries. Whenever he remotely twists his ankle, watch him hobble up and down the court—especially after a miss—as if he were running on a wooden leg. But when he has the ball he’s surprisingly fluid, breaking people’s ankles and throwing down monster dunks. He seems to over-dramatize every gesture. It’s like he scans his brain to decide what Jordan would do (likely trying to remember what he read in The Jordan Rules), and then he tries to perform the action as naturally as possible. Oh, but he also plays the tough guy. When an opponent gets physical with him he hits a shot and then gives that menacing Kobe Bryant stare to the other team. Okay, tough guy. We get it. Your will to win is unmatched. Or, that is, your will to be the best. Individually, at least.

People keep saying: “Kobe has grown up this year. He’s learning to trust his teammates, and he gets them more involved.” Awesome. Let’s give him an effin’ cookie. It’s about time Kobe. You’ve been in the league for 12 years; we’re all really impressed that you finally put it together. We’re all patting you on the back that it took you forever to understand the common fundamentals of basketball 101—it’s a team game.

This year during the Finals the media kept mentioning that Kobe suffered through the last few years of futility and is now seeing it pay off. How about Paul Pierce? He really suffered through futile years with his franchise. Did he piss and moan about his supporting cast being terrible? Did he decide to stop passing to teammates to prove that they can’t do it without him? Did he demand a trade because the rest of his team sucked? No. That’s what made it that much sweeter for this Lakers fan to see Pierce hoist that Finals MVP trophy in the air. After all, he was the one who deserved it. I never thought I’d see the day where I’d cheer for the Celtics to beat the Lakers. It makes me a little bit sick because I’ve always been a Lakers fan, but I just don’t have the energy anymore.