Death has a scary finality attached to it, which automatically makes life a game you are bound to lose. Last night was an unfortunate reminder of that.

We lost Kobe Bryant, forever. In a helicopter accident that claimed lives of every one aboard, including his 13-year-old daughter Gianna Bryant.

Economic Times

Kobe, the 5-time NBA champion.

Kobe, the 6 foot 6 inch beast.

Kobe, who wasn’t too accustomed to losing, lost his life in the most unfathomable manner and with that, everything came crashing to the ground – literally.

No athlete wants to become bigger than the sport they love, and you’d wonder if that is even possible. But if anyone has accomplished that, in some way or form, it’s him.

It wasn’t like Kobe Bryant was devoid of flaws, he had some deep issues, but today the world is united in its grief over his demise. 

People, like a few of my acquaintances, who have never followed basketball. People, like me, who don’t know much about it.

Because right now, it is not about the number of shots he scored in his career or the number of assists he made.  

That’s just not how it works.

You don’t see the numbers, you see the love. Even when you don’t see it with your eyes.

And that makes me think, I need to start rephrasing my own sentences. You give me a single chance and I will start ranting about how we are possibly the luckiest people in the history, to have witnessed such great athletes at their best.

Turns out, they are great lovers. Which is why their legacy lives on, even after their demise.

Kobe Bryant was larger than life. Or at least, larger than court. Surrounded by equally able-bodied players, he still looked the most glorious. 

When he ran, you’d think he would start flying. 

Which, sometimes, he did.


On some occasions, he dribbled so swiftly, it was like he was playing alone in the court in his backyard – with an abandon you only feel at home.


Kobe was more than a player, he was a show. People would come wearing Lakers jerseys that read ’24’, his number and they’d cheer him on. 

A lot of these people would wear the same jerseys, while going to play basketball, hoping some magic to be rubbed off. 

That, I think, is unlikely to change. Ever.


Now that he is gone, all we can say is – rest in peace, Black Mamba. If there has ever been magic in this world, it was in your game.