About Kobe, life and love.

Kobe Bryant was my idol. 

Now this is already something special for me, being definitely not the kind of person that tends to idolize somebody. 

But he was my idol, my inspiration, my hero. He was invincible to me, immortal. Indeed he had to be here forever, he was meant to be here forever. Because heroes never die, legends never die. 

That is what he was; that is what he is still: a legend. 

We were pretty much same aged. In fact I pretty much grew with him. I remember when he was drafted, I remember his airballs against Utah, and of course I remember his titles, the 81-point game, the redemption; every of his All Star Game appearances, every of his buzzer beaters, every high and low. 

Yes, he had many highs and lows. And the lows were really deep, as much as high his highs were. 

I remember I wanted actually to be like him, even if I can not hoop at all. I barely know the rules of basketball actually. 

But the fact is, that Kobe was much more than a basketball player. He became an icon, again, something special. He became a mentality, a mindset, a way of life. 

I had his poster on the wall a couple of years ago, I had the newspaper page after the 61 points game at the MSG on the wall as well. 

I was working at the University back in those days, and I remember I just wanted to go out every day and kill everybody just because he was doin´the same the night before on a court. 

I never was a Lakers fan. I never was a fan of a particular franchise. I was just a fan of him. I was shocked that morning after the injury against GSW, thinking this was it: my idol was done with his career, I would have never seen him again, ever. 

Than he returned of course. Yes he was aging, yes he was not the same anymore, at least in terms of speed and strenght, but man, the guy was a monster; a monster of will, grit, determination. A beast. 

And so I wanted to be too. 

All the twenty years of inspiration and magic that he put night in and night out on the court, all of this came to a perfect ending with the 60s against Utah, again. And then I was fine: a sweet melancholy, watching my idol taking his last steps to te locker room, letting the mic drop with his legendary "Mamba out". 

Still I didn´t know. Still I didn´t know that his story was tight at the beginning.

He would have been the most inspirational father, husband, writer, podcaster, author, coach of this and the next era. 

His next 40 years would have been much better than the first ones. 

He would have written many books, produced many movies, taken many interviews and speeches. 

Yes, speeches. I still cannot accept that I will never hear his HOF induction speech late this year, together with Kevin´s and Tim´s ones. 

Everyday, every fuckin´day I checked YT for a new interview, or podcast, or speech. Everyday I was reading something about him, about his next book or movie. 

Or about his fatherhood. Yes he was a hell of a dad. And even if I have no children, watching him, like the black mamba, that merciless kind of beast, being the best father in the world, growing and coaching his girls, was really inspirational: it made me happy, and in peace. 

Now he´s gone. He and Gianna and the other seven people involved in the crashed. 

So this week I stopped. I stopped for a few days, and reflected about everything. 

About life and love. About how short life can be, and how deep love can be as well. 

Love for the things that you do, love for your loved ones, love for yourself. 

Even love for this crazy fucked up world. 

Today I went out for a run again. Nothing special, an hour or something. 

But enough, to understand that now, more than ever, it´s important to remember how thin and precious life can be. 

Do what you love, give love to your loved ones, to your passions, to your place and time. 

Because all of this is unique, for everyone of us. 

Manu

"Heroes come and go, but legends are forever".