i’ve always been a kobe fan, but it’s getting harder and harder. the media’s certainly turned against him, but even resisting against that tide, it’s harder and harder to be a fan. between the troubles in colorado and then the power struggle last year, shattering the lakers and sending phil back to retirement and shaq out to the heat, and now the crazy shit with mailman and vanessa, who knows what’s going on?
and from the new york times yesterday:
Bryant was once the N.B.A.’s alternative programming to its hip-hop players when he arrived as a pop star that the Volvo crowd could embrace. He had Eminem in his music file but projected Osmond. And while other players had strip-club punch cards, Kobe soon had a wife waiting for him at his Pacific Palisades mansion.
…
He was the great suburban icon as the son of a former N.B.A. journeyman from the upper-class outskirts of Philadelphia. He was worldly, but all ball, preferring Michael Jordan game tapes over PlayStation videogames.
…
Where did Bryant go wrong in his imitation of M. J.? It began somewhere in suburbia, with his needs indulged by a doting family, the ball always in his hands.
Somehow, this sheltered existence left him arrested in development and devoid of street savvy. Bryant never learned the N.B.A. code: choose pole dancers over hotel clerks, teammates who make you better and discretion over snitching.
if you can’t get the grandmothers to love you, how can you expect anyone else to?
Posted at December 27, 2004 12:14 AMComments are now closed for this entry. Thank you for playing.