As someone who constantly wrestles with basketball-related matters, Kobe Bryant still pops in my head more often than I can count. He’s inescapable and omnipresent. A few memories make my eyes well whenever I hear myself saying them out loud to anyone who will listen.
Remembering Kobe Bryant’s unbelievable final game
Bryant’s final game as a Laker endures to this day.
The first NBA season I covered as a beat writer was Kobe’s last with the Los Angeles Lakers. It might’ve been the least consequential 82 games of his career, but it’s hard to imagine anything more vivid for both fans and reporters. Every other day, I drove from my Santa Monica apartment to the Staples Center or the Lakers’ former practice facility in El Segundo to document one surreal event after the next.
There was that press conference involving one player who ended another’s engagement by secretly recording him admitting to having an affair. There were popular characters — Metta World Peace, Roy Hibbert, and Lou Williams — somewhat-uncomfortably thrust into the background. There were losses, racked up at an unprecedented rate. (The Lakers won a franchise-low 17 games that year.) And, of course, there was Bryant, who officially announced in late November something everybody pretty much already knew: retirement was right around the corner.
But what will forever stand out in my head as the most memorable game I have/will ever cover, was his grand finale. All the weird passion that snowballed from Thanksgiving to April did nothing to prepare everyone who saw it in person, a culminating 60-point effort that was both unbelievable and presumed. Those who watched his 37-year-old body gnaw through the season could appreciate just how faithful that final game was to his previous 19 seasons as an athlete.
I would like to clarify here that I only covered Kobe as a basketball player. The 2003 rape allegation levied against him is an important part of his legacy I am not equipped to reconcile with the other facets of who he was, as others have.
Kobe was seemingly capable of anything on a basketball court. During the first quarter, Mike Tirico laughed: “He might not score 50, he might shoot 50 times.” Kobe was one of the least efficient players in the league all year, yet still played as if he were dominant, clinging to the edge of the only job he ever had.
Kobe hit a fading three with one minute to go that sparked a roar that nearly ruptured my eardrum and made me question the fundamental tenets of physical reality. I remember sitting on press row, my eyes watering in the fourth quarter, desperate to hide emotions I was powerless to stop. It was all so stunning. Throughout the night players, coaches, actors, musicians, and anyone who’s anyone expressed their gratitude up high on the Staples Center jumbotron.
One hour before the opening tip, Staples Center felt like a high school graduation blended with a prize fight inside the most exclusive church on the planet. The celebration kicked off with Kobe saluting the crowd at midcourt after two commemorative videos — the second including words from Shaquille O’Neal, Derek Fisher, Kevin Durant, Kevin Garnett, Dirk Nowitzki, Dwyane Wade, Carmelo Anthony, LeBron James, Steph Curry, Pau Gasol, Phil Jackson, Lamar Odom, Gregg Popovich, and Jack Nicholson — and a special introduction from Magic Johnson.
Before lineups were introduced, a third tribute video played on the Jumbotron, featuring special words from Scott and his current Lakers teammates. More videos looped throughout the night. From Ice Cube and Kanye West to Justin Timberlake and Taylor Swift to James Harden and Lamar Odom, dozens of celebrities, teammates and legends ...
Afterwards, in victory, Kobe held a microphone at center court to thank Lakers ans, his teammates, and Vanessa, his wife, for making sure their home stayed a home during the countless hours when he was in a gym or watching film, chasing the specter of perfection no human being could ever catch. Then came a press conference that was unlike any I’ve ever seen or will ever attend, crammed inside a cavernous room that the arena normally reserves for humongous events like the NBA Finals.
(I still remember leaning over to take my laptop out of my backpack and seeing strands of purple and gold confetti that were stuck to a piece of gum I’d stepped in earlier in the night. I stared at them for a beat and wondered what they would be worth someday. “Two REAL bits of confetti from KOBE BRYANT’S last game!! $24,000 or best offer!!”)
Still dressed in his game jersey, Bryant took questions for about 30 minutes before he ended the session by thanking the media, reminding them of a certain responsibility they had in shaping narratives, cementing legacies, and inspiring future generations to come. When he finished, most those present applauded. Several even stood from their chairs to do so.
For me, growing up 10 minutes outside Boston as a diehard Celtics fan, Bryant was the ultimate villain as a basketball player. A perfect foil who elevated every game to a level that validated intense emotional investment. As a more impartial observer, I still can’t overlook the me-first tendencies that defined so much of his career, and were ignored by a devoted fanbase that would point to his production and never cared how it was manufactured. But when I think back to that one night, I can’t help but see their point.
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