Unpacking My Unusual Infatuation With Kobe Bryant
Losing Kobe hurts. But remembering Kobe hurts too.
I didn’t grow up with an undying love of sports. My seemingly unhealthy infatuation with the Los Angeles Lakers began when I felt my relationship with my younger brother starting to strain. He was a big fan of the game. Watching Lakers’ basketball together meant we could have something in common, something to share and gab about. We’d text about the latest stats, and we’d never miss an away game in Atlanta. When he went out west for college at UCLA, I’d join him at the Staples Center, and we’d say how unbelievably lucky we felt to be alive for all this. When Kobe was ready to retire, we made it to his penultimate game and sent each other the latest hot takes on what it meant for the world to lose a legend like Kobe.
The city of Los Angeles and its love for this team reminded me, too, of my late great-uncle. The man who led the migration of my entire family to America after first setting foot in California then became the first Pirani to graduate from a university here. He also went to UCLA. I still have his 1993 Roland Lazenby book on the Lakers somewhere in my house. The older I get, the more often I think about my great-uncle, his flaws, his sudden death, and his critical role in our family’s legacy.
