A few hours before my Sunday visit to prison, I learned about Kobe Bryant’s death. As I was consuming the never-ending news cycle that day, I learned that he had written a poem titled “Dear Basketball” the year he retired. I decided to alter my plans for class and bring in the poem to share. I figured it would be on everyone’s minds and would give them a chance to talk and write about it. When reading the poem, I was also a little shocked at how much it felt like a goodbye to the world, not just to basketball. Sometimes when I’m journaling or writing something nostalgic or premonitory, I wonder- will my kids read this someday when I’m dead? I wondered when reading the poem if that had occurred to Kobe Bryant when writing his poem as well. I’m sure the end of such a career, that spanned all of his adult life and that he was working toward for most of his childhood, probably felt a little like a death. The poem is nostalgic, with imagery from childhood, and one could imagine him writing a letter to life in much the same tone, given his larger than life status and stature.
After reading his poem, we did a prompt in his honor, where we wrote Dear Basketball, or Dear Kobe, or Dear sport of their choice. I am sharing brief excerpts below of what each of us wrote. I was impressed with how many different elements the same prompt could bring out for people. Humor, pride, gratitude, longing-it is amazing the variety of emotions a sport and/or a hero can bring forth.
I’m sorry I never really got to know you. I remember when we met in grade school when I wanted to try out for the track meet. I could sure throw that shot put but I didn’t feel comfortable getting a physical. Who knows what I could have achieved in sports?
I thought you were one of the greatest even though I wasn’t into basketball. I loved football because it’s rough and you have to be tough to handle the pain. Kobe, you were one of the toughest in your game. Rest in peace.
This won’t be a love letter. My basketball career was over before it began. Somehow the jump shots and free throws I sank into the plastic goal over my bedroom door didn’t translate to the sticky synthetic wood floors of my junior high gym. I thought the high-top Jordan’s would carry me down the court gracefully. Instead I bounced dribbles off the shiny toes and only scored one point the entire season, during a free throw. At least everyone was watching. It was a moment in time.
From the time we met
it was the perfect fit
From the popularity
and smiles from cheerleaders
Two practices a day
turned me into a leader.
Thank you for being inspirational to me. I started loving the game from the first time I saw you play.
From your jump shots to your dunks to your killer instincts.
After hitting the game winner, you would ball your fist and pump your arm.
You were never afraid to lead or carry the weight on your shoulders.
I remember multiple arguments about who was the greatest player.
You were always the greatest in my eyes.
Here is an excerpt from the poem that inspired us:
From the moment
I started rolling my dad’s tube socks
And shooting imaginary
I fell in love with you.
You gave a six-year-old boy his Laker dream
And I’ll always love you for it.
But I can’t love you obsessively for much longer.
This season is all I have left to give.
My heart can take the pounding
My mind can handle the grind
But my body knows it’s time to say goodbye.
I’m ready to let you go.
I want you to know now…
We have given each other
All that we have.
…I’ll always be that kid
With the rolled up socks
Garbage can in the corner
:05 seconds on the clock
Ball in my hands.
Love you always,