With Unrivaled ‘Game,’ On and Off the Court, Kobe Bryant Defined L.A. For a Generation
L.A. icons …
There’s Magic. There’s Vinny. Edward James Olmos. Marilyn, of course. And Nipsey.
And then, there’s Kobe Bryant — the kid from Pennsylvania whose mad skills were on display for the world — from a uniquely suited-for-him L.A. stage.
“Kobe! Kobe! Kobe!”
The chants would rise and fall every 10 or 15 minutes or so Sunday night in the crisp air outside of Staples Center, where hundreds — donning No. 8 or No. 24 — mourned. There was an urgency to those chants — like the fourth quarter of a Game 7, Lakers vs. Celtics.
They flowed in and out, from early morning when the news first broke, to long after dark. A boom box thumped. There was even some mariachi music blasting somewhere. At multiple vigils scattered around the spacious L.A. Live quad, the thumping turned to reverence and reflection as the candles burned and the tears flowed.
There was the man from Orange County who recalled how Lakers games in the Kobe era brought his family together. There was the Palmdale couple who couldn’t miss Kobe’s last game — the one where he scored 60 points and then said goodbye. There was the fan who started to write a remembrance note and then broke down. And there was the Ontario church choir that after hearing of Kobe’s death simply came to sing, in the hopes of consoling anyone who cared to listen.
“Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound …”
It was clear on Sunday that in death, as in life, Kobe Bryant united not just a city, but a region. From the Inland Empire to the far reaches of L.A. County — Bryant was a defining, and inspiring, figure for a generation of Southern Californians who watched him grow up in one city, on one team, for two decades.
“Kobe is L.A.,” said fan Bryan Gonzalez, of Corona, as he took a break from leading the chants Sunday night. “This is our kid. He was ours. This is his home. This is what he built. He is our MJ.”
Actor Jack Nicholson cheers along with his son Ray during Kobe’s farewell season in 2016. (AP Images)
The five NBA championships. The 33,643 points scored. “Black Mamba.” The 81-points in one game. They were milestones that not only defined a career; they were steps in a journey that went way beyond the hardwood, to the heart of Southern California life.
For years, Kobe was the face of the sports franchise, the Lakers, that is one of the few institutions that folks in this big, diverse, unruly, volatile city can agree on. L.A. is purple (former Forum Blue) and gold.
Flashback to 1996. L.A. knew something special was ahead — and so did another icon: Chick Hearn.
“Well, he may be only 18 years and 5 months old, but he can do everything the veterans can do and do it better, perhaps,” the Lakers broadcaster, himself an L.A. icon, said as he opened the interview the day after Kobe’s first start in an NBA game.
And then, Angelenos would watch him grow up, all the while making his mark on a region that needed a hero.
Youngsters, yearning for someone to emulate, would find someone in the post-Jordan sports era to follow — someone who was striving to make a mark.
“As a 17-year-old kid, he set his mind to it,” said Eddie De Leon Gomez, who with his wife Valerie Landeros came to Staples on Sunday. “Luckily he went to the NBA. I just learned, just never give up. That’s what I learned from Kobe.”
It wouldn’t always be pretty. There were deep valleys among the triumphs. Among those valleys, a 2003 sexual assault allegation in which charges were ultimately dropped, though a civil case brought by the woman was settled. There were the Shaq-Kobe feuds that left L.A. fans wondering how many titles the pair would have snared together had they learned to get along.
In 2011, Kobe announced the formation of the Kobe and Vanessa Bryant Family Foundation during a press conference at My Friend’s Place, an organization in Hollywood dedicated to helping homeless young people. (AP Images)
Gonzalez, the Corona fan, remembered having to deal with the reality of watching his hero fall — and then get up again.
That “getting up” comprised the rest of Bryant’s NBA career — from sharpening the steely-eyed Black Mamba persona, to snagging more NBA titles with new partners to fighting back from a devastating injury to spend his final games as the league “senior” statesman at age 34, to philanthropy that included — but wasn’t limited to — developing young athletic talent.
Kobe was always showtime — and show business. He drank in the Hollywood shine that blanketed the Lakers and he enhanced it. Nonetheless, it was still surprising how seamlessly he evolved into the business and arts entertainment worlds. From his own book “The Mamba Mentality,” to his “Dear Basketball” animated short that won him an Oscar, to his savvy investment in a sports drink.
It didn’t hurt that he could speak multiple languages. And he tuned in to L.A.’s significant issues, including homelessness.
Bryant’s cultural impact in the L.A. area culminated with a day in 2016 when, with his wife, Vanessa, and two daughters with him looking on, the L.A. City Council declared Aug. 24 (8/24 — same numbers he wore), Kobe Bryant Day.
Bryant’s post-retirement reach in the area was evident — even this past weekend.
Jose Miranda, 34, of Porterville, drove down from their Central Valley community on Friday with the girls basketball team he coaches.
They were there for the Mamba Cup, a now annual tournament Bryant founded after retiring from the NBA. It’s played at the Mamba Sports Academy in Thousand Oaks. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of young basketball players between fourth and eighth grades from around the state come every year to play in the tournament. Like other youth basketball tournaments, it’s an opportunity for young players on club teams to play competitively. But Bryant’s stature gave it that much more luster.
Miranda said Bryant was at the tournament on Saturday, taking photos with groups of young players. He had hoped his girls could meet him on Sunday.
“We were excited to see him. The kids love him,” Miranda said. “He’s a Hall of Famer.”
Tournament officials canceled all games on Sunday after the crash. They gathered all of the teams and announced Bryant’s death in an emotional meeting in the middle of the day, Miranda said.
The tournament — and a shared love of basketball — is one thing that’s sure to be part of Bryant’s legacy, Miranda said.
“At the end of the day, we’re one big basketball family. That’s what we’re here for,” he said. “(Kobe) was bigger than basketball. I grew up watching him. He was my favorite player.”
And, if that reach wasn’t enough … there was always Snoop Dogg.
Kobe attends the premiere of “A Wrinkle in Time” with wife Vanessa and their daughters Gianna and Natalia. (AP Images)
In a Bleacher Report YouTube video, Snoop Dogg recounts his favorite moment with Kobe on a day when Kobe, recently retired, came in his helicopter to see the star rapper.
“I picked him up in a low-rider. … It was a Laker low-rider car, too. We jump out and I’m like, this is yours now … He got the Snoop Dogg Laker low-rider. And he really did enjoy it.”
It was a gift from Long Beach icon Snoop to L.A. icon Kobe, of appreciation for what the star had achieved.
Back to Staples. Outside were the fans. Inside, silence — at least for a moment, as an audience of pop stars and producers also paid tribute.
Alicia Keys began the Grammy Awards inside.
“We’re literally standing here, heartbroken, in the house that Kobe Bryant built,” she said as she got the show launched. People spent Sunday wondering if this glitzy show could go on at all in this crestfallen city.
She added: “We never imagined in a million years we’d have to start the show like this … never, never, never, never.”
Back outside, Dominic Arroyo put the loss back into L.A. perspective.
“First it was Nipsey,” he said. And now this.
“A legend gone too soon.”
Staff writer Josh Cain contributed to this story