A LASTING LEGACY
Bryant likely was, at some point, your favorite player’s favorite player
Long before they started launching the 30-footers that would lead to their NBA careers, the basketball dreams of the Curry brothers were much closer to the rim.
On a 7-foot hoop, they would trade off imitating roles in one of the most iconic plays they knew: Kobe Bryant’s alley-oop lob to Shaquille O’Neal in Game 7 of the 2000 Western Conference finals.
As time went on, Stephen Curry would try the moves of all of his idols, including Allen Iverson and Steve Nash. But even now, at 32, he acknowledges: “Kobe’s at the top of that list for sure.
“He was just our generation’s Jordan in terms of iconic moves, iso stuff, fadeaways, game-winners,” the Warriors’ two-time league MVP said. “Something about his name even just rolls off the tongue nice when you’re counting down 3-2-1 and yell ‘Ko-be!’ when you knock it down.”
A year removed from his death on a Calabasas hillside, Bryant’s most vibrant legacies remain intact — including a generation of NBA players who grew up as idolizing fans and would-be imitators, incorporating Bryant’s polished and seemingly endless array of moves into their own game.
Chances are your favorite
baller’s favorite baller was, at some point, Kobe Bryant.
While no one man owns the tricks and skills that Bryant utilized in his 20year career with the Lakers, he had a way of making them his own that drew the attention and admiration of superstars in waiting. It’s nearly impossible to watch anyone in the NBA execute a turnaround fadeaway and not think — at least for a flashing moment — about Bryant, who might as well have filed a patent on it.
For young players such as current Laker Anthony Davis, the way Bryant could get his own shot in a blink fascinated him and sparked his imagination.
“The back-to-the-basket turnaround and stuff always kind of stood out to me,” Davis said, “with how much great space you can create with just a small turn of your shoulders and your hips.”
The same traits that could make Bryant a frustrating teammate made him a worthy subject of study for a generation of young hoopers: He knew he could get a shot whenever he wanted. Isolation was Bryant’s canvas, and his quick, precise steps and shifty pace were his brushstrokes. With jabs and crossovers, Bryant could make defenders keel over with sore ankles, or leave them swiping helplessly at a shot that they could not block.
At 6-foot-6, he was a perfectly placed median: His game inspired both undersized guards trying to scrape together any advantage, or big men looking to add to their toolbox. Bucks forward Khris Middleton was one of those.
“I’m not as athletic as he was, but just still trying to find ways to finish with his reverses, his different footwork, his different types of shot release points, sometimes slow, sometimes
quick, switching hands and whatnot,” Middleton said. “But he’s a guy I definitely looked up to, and tried to take a lot from his game and put it into mine, in some way, shape or form, especially in the post a lot.”
Bryant had an inspiration, too: Michael Jordan. From the moment he turned pro, players throughout the NBA recognized how fanatically Bryant was determined to be like Mike, even down to the wristband around his left forearm, and his tongue dangling out as he drove toward the rim.
He wasn’t alone in this regard — before he arrived in 1996, Jordan was the man who launched a million hoop dreamers. But perhaps no one executed the tribute as well as Bryant, who made many of those moves his own.
A fellow close admirer of Jordan, LeBron James said he appreciated Bryant’s game for its own merits. But even that Bryant was able to so faithfully incorporate Jordan’s moves was a tribute to both his gifts and his devotion to craft.
“A lot of people wish they could take things from some of the greats, implement them into their game and then be successful, they just can’t,” James said. “They don’t have the ability to do it. They don’t have the drive to do it, the mindset to do it. But he actually did it and did it at a high level for a long, long, long time. And you can respect that.”
Bryant bought heavily into caricatures that enhanced his mystique: The Black Mamba persona marked a shift into embracing his own sense of superhuman abilities that made him even more awe-inspiring to impressionable youngsters.
Paul George was a 16-year-old watching from his living room in Palmdale when Bryant scored 81 points against the Toronto Raptors on Jan. 22, 2006, a performance that remains the second-greatest scoring
night in NBA history. What struck George the deepest was that the Lakers came back from an 18-point, third-quarter deficit — Bryant knew he needed to find another gear to turn the game around.
“I think that’s what stood out the most,” he said. “You saw him literally do whatever it took to win that game and it called for him to score 81.”
For many NBA stars, getting drafted was a formality. But playing against Bryant? That was the true moment one arrived in the NBA. James said he first felt a part of the league when he realized he was sharing the court with three players he had posters of on his wall in Akron, Ohio: Tracy McGrady, Kevin Garnett and Bryant. Players like Carmelo Anthony and Kawhi Leonard said they simply were focused on the task at hand and just tried to pick him up on defense. George was a little more indulgent in his description: “Nobody on that court mattered, nothing else mattered — to me, it was was just me and him.”
Long before he had his own mix of moves and handles to grease his way out of tight spots, Kyrie Irving was one of Bryant’s most ardent devotees, watching his highlights on YouTube. Seeing Bryant in real life was overwhelming: “I just saw and witnessed somebody just manipulate the whole entire game, just based off of his greatness.”
But more than his moves, his high-scoring games or any of his skills, many of those who looked up to him still say what they admired most about Bryant — and perhaps the hardest thing to replicate — is the consistent, fanatical approach he had to the game, which he called “Mamba Mentality.” Regardless of size, ability or any other attributes, it’s an aggressive approach to finding success that has inspired widespread cultural impact.
One of the things that
struck Davis most after Bryant died was just how widespread his loss was felt — well beyond the realm of sport.
“I think that just kind of resonates with everyone, in their personal lives as well, not just in sports,” Davis said. “And the way he was on the floor — a fierce competitor — the way he was off the floor — such a loving guy — I think it’s hard for people not to love Kobe and not see the inspiration that he tried to give to the world, especially with his daughters, the way he supported them and did so much with them.”
Bryant was 41 when he died, at an age when his playing career was still felt fresh and relevant — and many say that’s still the case today. Even in retirement, he had freely offered advice and friendship to those in whom he saw a similar (but probably not equal) fervor for the game. Lakers assistant coach Phil Handy helped him organize the Mamba Pro Invitational in 2019, which included former opponents, but also a generation of players who never knew Bryant as a competitor, including De’Aaron Fox and Jamal Murray. Perhaps his best lessons lay ahead — but even the ones he left behind have continued to provide fodder for young players everywhere who still want to study him.
“He was just a man of our generation, of our era,” Middleton said. “He was just a guy that won the most championships. And growing up, you always want to be the guy that wins.”
The Lakers copped a Bryant phrase for their 2020 postseason run: “Leave a legacy.” Bryant certainly left that, and in that sense, James said, a part of him is still alive.
“There’s a lot of things that die in this world, but legends never die,” he said, “and he’s exactly that.”