Tuesday, April 12, 2011 

As a follow up to my last post this here:

Sonnet, with Kobe Bean Bryant

1. My friend, X, who played D1 basketball, and was the last cut during his only NBA training camp, hasn’t shot a basketball since he retired. 2. For a few years, all of his friends tried to get him to run in their pick-up games, but he refused. 3. “I hit a jumper over Shawn Kemp,” he said to me. “Just one. But how could it get any better than that?” 4. What he was really saying: “Sherman, no matter how many times I score, easily and repeatedly, on you, it will never have the same magic.” 5. As far as I know, he doesn’t have any regrets. 6. He’s a multi-sport athlete now, running ridiculous distances through the desert and swimming epic lengths in the water. And God knows what other medieval tortures he’s putting himself through. 7. During his playing days, he invented a training game where he’d dribble full-court, pull up for a jumper at the top of the key, grab the rebound, make or miss, hit a lay-in, then dribble full-speed back the other way, and do the same routine on the other basket. He would do this until he vomited. Then he’d drink water, rest a few minutes, and go, go, go until he vomited again. He would do this for five or six hours at a time. 8. Have you ever done anything with such passion? 9. And here, I think of Kobe Bryant, who plays basketball with a singular ferociousness. 10. I am not a fan of the man, as a human or as a player, but I respect and fear him, in the same way that Luke Skywalker respected and feared Darth Vader. 11. Every narrative needs a villain. 12. But I suspect that Kobe loves nothing so much as he loves playing basketball. And playing it at the highest level imaginable. He is better at this one thing than all but three or four other people who have ever lived. It could be argued that he is the very best basketball player who has ever run the court. 13. What will he do once he is not better than everybody? When he is not the best player in the league? When he’s not even the best player on his team? When he is utterly dominated by some younger and superior kid? 14. O, Kobe, when your playing days are done, I wonder if you’ll also be running in the desert, not with passion, but with the fear that you’ll never find where it ends.

Monday, April 11, 2011 

Bill,
I tweeted (twat? tweets?) you that I think you missed the angle here. Instead of just being a sideline asshole flinging mud I guess I should elaborate a bit further:

I saw two men this past weekend at the Masters. One but barely a man, but seemingly wise beyond his years with the weight of the world on his shoulders for a few hours as the thing he has done since he was a young boy in Ireland regress to a time and a place not to his liking. He ground on.

I saw another man who arguably was given too much, too soon. Some have even mentioned it and written poignant pieces about it previously. I saw a man grinding but not like the boy. I saw, and even my wife mentioned, a man grinding on an edge likely to fall to either side or even fall off. My wife is a 2nd grade teacher see and even alluded to the fact he looked like one of her students who could likely blow up at any minute.

And so for a time he did blow up in his own way: he posted a 31 on the front of Augusta National. He had the crowds cheering and the announcers even speculating at a 62 final round score. The first time ever this would have been done at a major on the final day.

The boy made the turn and then pulled a drive into an area that the announcers had never seen anyone hit their ball before. It snowballed from there for the young lad from Ireland. He never contended after that. Neither did the older Tiger of course. Flaws in his game materialized and both were to be without the green jacket this time around.

But losing of course does happen in our lives. The old adage is so true: you can't win them all. And perhaps neither will win a golf tournament again or maybe they will both win 20 more... it really doesn't matter. It is a game with a small ball after all and what we are left with at the end is not scores or trophies or crowds cheering. All that goes away. What we are left with, at the end, is the smiles we put on other peoples faces.

The one continuing to grind on the edge each night of his life and blow up in reporters faces (yes he blew up like that too) is not who I plan to share with my kids except as a bit of a cautionary tale and perhaps to emphasize competitive nature. The one who I want my kids to see, listen to and smile with? The wise boy.


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