From Kobe to Maradona, a year of staggering losses in sports

There were so many this year.

Sports in 2020 was an unending state of mourning. It was as if every week, sometimes days, another luminary fell, bringing a cascade of condolence and remembrance.

It began New Year’s Day, a harbinger of what the year held, with the deaths of David Stern and Don Larsen. Not long after came a seismic jolt, the helicopter crash of Kobe Bryant in the fog- shrouded California hills that reverberated across sports and across continents.

Deep into the year, a bookend to Bryant, Diego Maradona died from a heart attack in Argentina weeks after brain surgery, the waves of grief rippling across soccer. It seemed a whole wing of the Baseball Hall of Fame was ripped away — Al Kaline, Tom Seaver, Lou Brock, Bob Gibson, Whitey Ford, Joe Morgan, Phil Niekro. Football lost a big piece of its heart: Don Shula, Gale Sayers, Paul Hornung, Bobby Mitchell. Gone from college basketball was John Thompson, as imposing and important a coach as any.

The losses, of course, came against a backdrop of a pandemic, its number of fatalities rolled out daily on TV screens. Sports took its place in the grim procession, even if COVID-19 was not listed on the death certificate. For fans of a certain age, it was as if the lights dimmed on a generation of players who long illuminated the game.

What was left were snapshots and YouTube montages and endless conversations — the soaring move to the basket, the steely command on the mound, the slashing run past tacklers, the burst of an impossible goal. It’s all a fan could ask for.

Bryant was among nine who died that January day, including 13-year- old daughter Gianna. He was 41, less than four years removed from the NBA, and on his way to a youth tournament. Bryant is the game’s fourth-leading scorer. He spent 20 years with the Los Angeles Lakers, 18 as an All- Star, and won five titles. He was a generational player who left an imprint with his swoops and scores, his touch and grit. Purple and gold became colors of mourning. “It doesn’t make no sense,” the Lakers’ LeBron James said. “But the universe just puts things in your life.”

Maradona was the soul of Argentine soccer whose magic extended to Italy, where he bewitched Napoli fans. He carried Argentina to the 1986 World Cup title, his two goals in a quarterfinal against England among soccer’s greatest: the “Hand of God” goal — he later acknowledged it came with his hand, not head — and another in which he shredded an entire defense. He died at 60, his health undercut by cocaine and obesity. One commentator in Argentina likened him to the “great masters of music and painting.”

Kaline spent 22 years with the Detroit Tigers, elegantly covering right field and in 1955 hitting .340 at age 20 to become the youngest player to win the American League batting title. He was simply Mr. Tiger. In Cincinnati, Morgan, his elbow twitching at the plate like the wing of an agitated chicken, was a maestro at second base, a twotime MVP and vital part of the Big Red Machine before becoming a TV voice of the game.

Ford was the dependable “Chairman of the Board,” a left-hander who played on six title winners and might have been the greatest starting pitcher in New York Yankees history. In St. Louis, Gibson struck palpable fear into batters. He won seven straight World Series starts and in 1968 had a 1.12 ERA. Baseball responded by lowering the mound the next year. A month earlier, Cardinals fans also grieved for Brock, who came over from the Cubs and became one of the game’s great leadoff hitters and base stealers.

Three days earlier, it was Seaver. He was “Tom Terrific” and “The Franchise,” both nicknames apt. Seaver shook the mindset of the New York Mets. He was a three-time Cy Young Award winner and cornerstone of a team he transformed from woebegone to World Series champion in 1969. Niekro won 318 games and pitched until he was 48, his knuckleball dancing and mystifying batters across the decades.

Larsen was 81- 91 over 14 big league seasons, but on one October day in 1956 the gods of the game visited an Everyman. The Yankees pitcher did what no one in baseball ever had — throw a perfect game in the World Series.

Baseball also remembered Dick Allen, a fearsome slugger and seventime All- Star who withstood torrents of abuse in Philadelphia. Two other hard hitters left: Jim Wynn, the Astros’ “Toy Cannon,” and Bob Watson, who later with the Yankees became the first Black general manager to win a World Series.