Kobe Bryant, Remembered

This is Lee Habib, and this is Our American Stories, the show where America is the star and the American people. Up next, you’re going to be hearing stories about the late, great Kobe Bryant. He died in a tragic helicopter crash along with his daughter, and we’re sharing with you eulogies from his memorial service in February of 2020. And we’re telling these stories because on this day in history, in 1978, Kobe Bryant was born. He broke all kinds of records, third in the history of the NBA in scoring until LeBron James passed him. Also, five NBA championships. Very few players have managed that. Also, there’s his fall from grace: real life problems with his marriage, on top of that, very public problems, and his eventual redemption. We’re going to share with you some of the eulogies from that day of his memorial service back in 2020. First up is Sabrina Ionescu, and she was, at the time, a star player at the University of Oregon. She ended up becoming a mentor to Kobe’s daughter, Gianna, otherwise known as Gigi Bryant. Well, he was Sabrina’s mentor. Let’s take a listen to Sabrina Ionescu.

Growing up, I only knew one way to play the game of basketball. Fierce, with obsessive focus. I was unapologetically competitive. I wanted to be the best. I love the work even when it was hard, especially if it was hard. I knew I was different, that my drive was different. I grew up watching Kobe Bryant, game after game, ring after ring, living his greatness without apology. I wanted to be just like him: to love every part of the competition, to be the first to show up, in the last to leave, to love the grind, to be your best when you don’t feel your best, and make other people around you the best version of themselves, and to wake up and do it again the next day. So that’s what I did: wake up, grind, and get better. A year ago, my team, Oregon, was playing at USC. The morning of the game, our coaches told us that there was a surprise for the day. I was thinking Nike sent us some new shoes, or swag, or something. Kobe walks in with his daughter Gianna and two of her teammates. They sat courtside while my jaw sat dropped, and that was the first…

…time I met Kobe.

Kobe, Gigi, and her teammates came into the locker room after the game. He congratulated us on the win, but said—and I’ll never forget—”Don’t shoot yourselves in the foot.” He meant, “Don’t settle.” The national championship wasn’t far, and our goal was to win it all. I remember Gigi excited and smiling in the locker room. I’d always watch a ton of film of her playing basketball. She had a fadeaway better than mine. I asked her where she wanted to play ball in college, and she said, “UConn.”

She had the will and…

…determination to be able to play wherever she wanted. She and her teammates hung out with us for a while, starstruck and a little shy, but always observing whichever school she would come to choose. It didn’t matter if I represented the present of the women’s game. Gigi was the future, and Kobe knew it, so we decided to build the future together. I worked out twice with Gigi over the summer. I’d gone down to help Kobe coach his team. Gigi had so much of her dad’s skill set. You could tell the amount of hours they spent in the gym practicing her moves. She smiled all the time, but when it was game time, she was ready to kill. I remember one time someone grabbed her jersey, and she sort of just knocked him down and then stepped right over him. Me and Kobe looked at each other, smiling, and he goes, “I don’t know where she learned that from.” I laughed and said, “I do. You can’t teach that, and definitely not at her age.” Kobe was right; she had it. She always wanted to learn, to go to every game she could: college, NBA, WNBA. Kobe was helping with that because he saw it in her, just like he saw it in me. His vision for others is always bigger than what they imagine for themselves. His vision for me was way bigger than my own. More importantly, he didn’t just show up in my life and leave.

He stayed.

We kept in touch, always texting, calls, game visits. I’d drop a triple-double and have a text from him: “A noble triple-double I see” with a fleximogi. Another game, another text: “YO, beast mode!” or “Easy money!” He taught me his step-back. He told me that if I could bring that to my game, it’d be over. Fanny defender chrying to guard me. He was giving me the blueprint he was giving Gigi, the same blueprint. He made it so that the outsiders who at worked everyone else, who were driven to be just a little bit different every single day, to make those around them, behind them, and above them a little bit better every single day. I wanted to be a part of the generation that changed basketball for Gigi and her Tea inmates, where being born female didn’t mean being born behind, where greatness wasn’t divided by gender. You have too much to give to say silent. That’s what he lived through Gigi, through me, through his investment in women’s basketball. That was his next great act: a girl dad. Basketball in many ways was just a metaphor. I still text them even though he’s not here. The last one I sent him said, “I miss you. May you rest in peace, my dear friend.” The texts go through, but no response. Sometimes I find myself still waiting. It’s so strange to describe him or Gigi in the past tense. You don’t get used to that. The week after the accident, I was in Colorado. I had a game, and like I do before every game, I prayed. This time I was thinking about Kobe and Gigi. His voice is still in my head, even if his body is not on this earth, and all I wanted was a sign that, in some way, he still heard me too. I looked off into the sky, and there it was: a beautiful golden sunset, the boldest yellow, Lakers yellow, and further in the distance, a helicopter. There was my sign that he will forever be with me. The last line from one of his books: “Walk until the darkness is a memory, and you become the sun on the next traveler’s horizon.” I ask each of you, every girl, dad, every human here with a voice, a platform, and a heart, to not let his son set shine for us, for our sport, where he once did invest in us with the same passion and drive and respect and love as he did his own daughter. In the end, she was a sun just starting to rise, and God did she glow. May their light forever shine. Kobe and Gigi, I love you forever. Thank you.

And you’ve been listening to Sabrina Ionescu, and what a story she tells! She says, “I wake up, I grind, I get better.” That might as well have been Kobe Bryant’s life motto, to. And my goodness! His last and ultimate role Sabrina nailed. He was a girl dad. His next great act: basketball, a mere metaphor.

When we come back.

More of the remarkable eulogies delivered on Kobe Bryant’s behalf. This day in history, in 1978, Kobe Bryant was born, celebrating his life here on Our American Stories. Lee Habib here, the host of Our American Stories. Every day on this show, we’re bringing inspiring stories from across this great country, stories from our big cities and small towns. But we truly can’t do the show without you. Our stories are free to listen to, but they’re not free to make. If you love what you hear, go to OurAmericanStories.com and click the donate button. Give a little, give a lot. Go to OurAmericanStories.com and give. And we returned to Our American Stories and our look back at basketball legend Kobe Bryant’s memorial service. We’re airing it today because on this day in 1978, Kobe Bryant was born, and often there’s no better way to get to know who a person was by the nature and quality of the eulogies delivered on their behalf. Earlier, we heard from a great college ball player, Sabrina Ionescu, and this next speaker is another powerful one who was a remarkable player as well. Diana Taurasi, by the way, a three-time NCAA and WNBA champion.

In 1996…

…I was a lanky, awkward freshman in high school, obsessively shooting night after night in my driveway. On the nights the Lakers played, I would miss a second of the game. Every timeout, commercial, I’d run to the front yard to imitate my favorite Laker, Kobe. On a few lucky occasions, my dad would come home from work. He was a metal sheet worker in Los Angeles, and he’d come home…

…With Laker tickets.

Watching Kobe play at the Great Western Forum as a rookie made this little girl believe she could be a Laker one day. It was like getting to know myself every single day. He made it okay to play with an edge that borderlined crazy. Early-onset Mamba Mentality was in full effect. Years later, when I spent time with Kobe at the 2008 Olympics, I learned firsthand that it just wasn’t limited to the basketball court. His competitive fire ran through his veins, just like many of us today. Every single workout, I end the same way, with the Kobe game-winner. Three hard dribbles: going right, left foot, plant, pivot, swing, right leg through, elevate, square…

…Up, follow through, five in a row, and I got to go home.

It’s that exact same shot that won us a championship in Phoenix in 2014. Kobe’s willingness to do the hard work and make the sacrifice every single day inspired me and resonated with the city of Los Angeles. We struggled together; we grew together; we celebrated victories together, passion we all recognized in Kobe. Obviously, Gigi inherited. Her skill was undeniable at an early age. I mean, who has a turnaray fadaway jumper at eleven?

LeBron barely got it today. But…

It was her curiosity about the game that was pushing her to pick up the basketball every single day. Gigi was in the midst of the best times as a basketball player’s career. No responsibilities, no expectations, just basketball with your best friends. Every weekend was a new adventure, an opportunity to learn how to work and grow together as a unit. As a young kid, there’s nothing you looked forward to more than long, hot summer days in the gym with your homies. The same way Kobe inspired a generation of basketball players, he turned Kobe’s interest in coaching and teaching the game. I’m sure I’m not the only one who received the text from Kobe asking what drills they were doing when they were thirteen. Gigi, in many ways, represents the future of women’s basketball, a future where a young woman aspires to play in the WNBA the same way I wanted to be a Laker. Gigi already had goals to play for UConn. That in itself showed her fearless mentality. She represents a time where a young girl doesn’t need permission to play. Her skill would command respect. The last time I saw Gigi, the Mambas were in Phoenix for a big AAU tournament. Kobe brought them to the locker room to watch practice. I always remember the look on Gigi’s face. It was a look of excitement, a look of belonging, a look of fierce determination. As a daughter, a sister, wife, and mother, we embrace Vanessa, Natalia, Bianca, and Capri. We promised to carry Gigi’s legacy. Kobe gans Los Angeles, Los Angeles, Nukamwenucho, and you were…

…Listening to Diana Taurasi, that UConn star, and UConn—well, the dominant NCAA power in women’s college basketball. And that’s where Kobe’s daughter wanted to go. And Kobe, well, he told her the sky is the limit, and he got her to know that program and got her to know the coach of that program, the great Geno Auriemma. And as anyone who’s ever watched Kobe knows or knows about him, knows he wasn’t always the most coachable athlete. Let’s hear Geno.

How ironic that he would talk to me about coaching, the uncoachable one wants to talk about coaching. Probably the most uncoachable player in the NBA during his career wants to know about coaching, and I wanted to know why. He said, “I’m coaching my daughter’s team.” I said, “Oh my God, that poor kid!” So when I watched highlights of her playing, and on about the third or fourth time she touched the ball, Gianna passed it when she was open. I thought, “She’s not listening to her father!” So he would call and say, “What kind of defensive drills should I do? We have practice tonight. We’re going to work on defense. What do you think is the most important thing in teaching—”

Man?

“The man!” Further proof he never listened to one word any of his coaches told him. So I tried to explain them. I said, “Kobe, they’re thirteen years old. I think you ought to just say, ‘Hey, you know, see the kid with the ball, try not to let her go by you, and see if you’re guarding the other guys. Hate, see the kid with the ball over there? Don’t let her throw the ball to your guy.'” “Keep it kind of simple, you know?” He said, “No, I want to know, like, what are the rotations when they drive?” I said, “Come on, come on, come on!” So these are the conversations that we have both as basketball people and as dads who have ever coached their kids, if you’ve ever been in that situation, like a lot of people here in this room probably have been. And I remember when Gigi came—as you saw in that video—she came to the very first game that she came to, and she came into the locker room, and here she is, and the look on her face, the smile, the way her eyes just took everything in. How excited she was to be around, in her mind, royalty. It’s ironic her father’s royalty, and she’s excited to be around royalty that looks just like what she wants to be. And the most impressive thing about that point in time was how Kobe stepped as far back as he could so anyone taking pictures—anyone there—would not know that this was Kobe Bryant’s daughter. This was her moment. This was her time to shine. This was her time to experience all the things…

…That he’s experienced his whole life.

He was being Dad; he wasn’t being Kobe Bryant, and he was allowing Gigi to be Gigi, not Kobe Bryant’s daughter. In today’s day and age, that’s a hell of a thing for parents to be able to do.

More Kobe Bryant’s stories. He was born on this day in history, in 1978. We’re hearing some of the eulogies. It was a remarkable memorial service in 2020. More Kobe Bryant’s stories. When we return here on Our American Stories, and we returned to Our American Stories and our look back at basketball legend Kobe Bryant’s memorial service. We’re airing it today because on this day in 1978, Kobe Bryant was born, and often there’s no better way to get to know who a person was by the nature and quality of the eulogies delivered on their behalf. Earlier, we heard from a great college ball player, Sabrina Ionescu, and this next speaker is another powerful one who was a remarkable player as well. Diana Taurasi, by the way, a three-time NCAA and WNBA champion.

He isn’t going to be here to drop Bianca, Capri, off at pre-K or kindergarten. He isn’t going to be here to tell me to “get a grip, V” when we have to leave the kindergarten classroom or show up to our daughters’ doctor’s visits for my own moral support. He isn’t going to be able to walk our girls down the aisle or spin me around on the dance floor while singing “P.Y.T.” to me. But I want my daughters to know and remember the amazing person, husband, and father. He was the kind of man that wanted to teach the future generations to be better and keep them from making his own mistakes. He always liked working and doing projects to improve kids’ lives. He taught us all valuable lessons about life and sports through his NBA career, his books, his show “Detail,” and his “Punies” podcast series, and were so thankful he let those lessons and stories behind for us. He was thoughtful and wrote the best love letters and cards. And Gigi had his wonderful ability to express her feelings into paper and make you feel her love through her words. She was thoughtful like him.

They were so easy to love.

Everyone naturally gravitated towards them. They were funny, happy, silly, and they loved life. They were so full of joy and adventure. God knew they couldn’t be on this earth without each other. He had to bring them home to heaven together. “Babe, you take care of our Chi Chi, and I got Naughty Baby and Coco.” We’re still the best team. We love and miss you, Boo Boo and che Chee. May you both rest in peace and have fun in heaven until we meet again one day. We love you both and miss you forever and always.

Mommy. And there’s almost nothing to say. And what class and what beauty! And we have to remember there was a time in Kobe’s life where he hit bottom. There were sexual assault charges. A lot of people, probably in her years, saying, “Dump him! What did he do?” The charges were dropped, and Kobe had to rehabilitate himself, not just in front of a few people, but the whole world. And his wife hung in there, and they had a life together. There was forgiveness, and there was clearly redemption.

He came to the…

…NBA when he was seventeen years old. His parents had to sign his contract. He wasn’t old enough, he came right out of high school, and, by the way, part of that redemption was playing with the Redeemed Team under Mike Krzyzewski,