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- Sep 23, 2008
Whats up everyone, still in disbelief that Kobe is gone for good. His last performance was one only a legend could give. Thank you Kobe.
I wanted to share the letter my brother wrote to Kobe.
Dear Kobe Bryant,
I guess all things really do come to an end. In February 1997, I watched a skinny 18-year old kid strut up and down the court becoming the first Laker ever to win the dunk contest. Twenty years, five championships, 33,000 points, 18 all-star appearances, 15 all-NBA and 12 all-Defensive selections, dozens of buzzer beaters, finger wags, under bite snarls, and profanity laced tirades later, it all ends tonight against Utah, fittingly, the same team where our relationship blossomed 20 years ago.
People ask sports fans, “why does it matter so much” if we aren’t the ones actually playing. What a person can learn from being a witness to the journey makes it matter. For 20 years, you’ve entered my living room, dorm room, bed room, office, and anywhere I’ve been. You’ve brought me along through some of the most thrilling and entertaining memories of my life. I’ve been there every step of the way through triumphs and heart breaks year after year after year. Watching you for two decades makes it feel like we grew up together. Growing up in Massachusetts as a diehard Lakers fan has been difficult. I’ve defended you from haters for what feels like my whole life, and I thank you for making it easy for me as you continued to improve and win title after title.
You’ve taught me so much about how to strive to be the best version of myself. The hours of work you put in behind the scenes, the dedication to perfecting your craft, your tireless preparation, your unrelenting drive, and your cold blooded killer instinct have been both an inspiration and motivation to tackle anything life throws my way.
Over the past twenty years, I attended and graduated from high school, moved away to college and graduated from there as well, got married, lived in 5 different states, started a business, and had 2 children, and the only consistent and constant thing I’ve had through all the changes has been you. Thank you for always putting your heart and soul into your craft and never disappointing.
I remember sitting in the living room, as I watched you battle the seasoned Utah Jazz to the waning seconds of the ’96-’97 season. I saw a Lakers team afraid to shoot the ball; I saw all-stars scared of the moment. I watched you, a rookie, launch four shots, none of which even touched the rim. Shooting four air balls in crunch time of an elimination game is generally a death sentence for a young player. But I knew you were destined for greatness in the season opener of the following season against the same Utah team. I snuck into the basement to watch the game as I often did to watch games well passed my bed time on school nights, and watched you pour in 23 points. You put an inside out cross over spin move on Jeff Hornacek that I later practiced for months.
Since that day, you’ve had this super hero aura about you. No matter what the situation, as long as you were on the court, I always believed you would find a way to win. That’s why I never turned the TV off in games like Dallas 2002. Down by 27 points and heading into the fourth quarter, I watched you score 21 in the quarter including the game winner. There was never a doubt. Never. You could make anything, do anything, and be anyone that we needed you to be. You were supposed to just be my childhood hero, but that has lasted into my thirties. My bedroom at my parents’ house is still covered wall-to-wall in your posters, dozens of your jerseys still hang in my closet, your basketball cards fill my drawers, and your sneakers litter the entry way.
I still can’t believe it ends tonight. I guess I grew so accustomed to you winning, I just assumed you would be the first person to beat father time. There’s not much more to say but thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you for putting that spin move on Hornacek in ’97. Thank you for throwing that behind the back fake pass on Dikembe and hitting that fading out of bounds hook shot in the ’98 all-star game in MSG. Thank you for tipping in Glen Rice’s intentionally missed free throw against Golden State. Thank you for leading us in points, rebounds, assists, steals, and blocks in Game 7 of the 2000 WCF against Portland when we were down 15 in the fourth quarter. Thank you for scoring 8 points in overtime in Game 4 in the Finals against Indiana. Thank you for nearly running the table in 2001 and keeping Iverson in check after Game 1. Thank you for calling Shaq at two in the morning before Game 7 against Sacramento in 2002 and winning in overtime on the road. Thank you for hitting those two wild three pointers at the end of regulation and overtime against Portland to end the regular season. Thank you for hanging 55 on MJ and giving him a proper send off against the Wizards. Thank you for hitting that three-pointer over Rip Hamilton in Game 2 in 2004, I spent all my money to fly to that game and see it in person. Thank you for the 9 straight 40 point games. Thank you for the up and under windmill dunk against the Knicks – that was jarring. Thank you for pouring 62 on Dallas through three quarters, and then 81 a few weeks later against Toronto. Thank you for the 4 straight 50-point games, including the 65-point gem against Portland. Thank you for dominating every time you came to town to play the Celtics, I watched you in person every year. Thank you for sending the game to overtime, then hitting the game-winner in Game 4 against Phoenix in 2006. Thank you for not leaving us when your frustration with management boiled over. Thank you for carrying Team USA in crunch time in the Gold Medal game against Spain. Thank you for giving us a fourth ring against Orlando, I cried that night. Thank you for beating Boston in 7 Games in 2010; that one was very personal. Thank you for all the thrills, game-winners, and dominance of the 2013 season; only a torn Achilles could stop you that year. Thank you for fighting your way back. Thank you for beating Brooklyn this year; the last time I saw you in person.
Thank you for studying and emulating the greatest basketball player of all-time in Michael Jordan, and daring to come closer to him than anyone in the history of the game has. “But Kobe’s not Jordan” should not be a knock on your resume; how close you came is perhaps your greatest accomplishment.
Thank you for teaching me about winning and losing, about practice, about what 4 A.M. means, about dedication, perseverance, pride, and what it takes to be one of the greatest of all time. Thank you for “next season starts today,” I cried that night too.
You’ve been everything I could have hoped to have over these past twenty years. I’ve shed tears for you and tonight will be no different. Four years from now you will walk into my hometown of Springfield, MA to be inducted into the Hall of Fame. I will be 35-years old in attendance, and everything would have come full circle. Until that night, Kobe –
Thank you.
Sincerely,
Nabeel Hazratji
I wanted to share the letter my brother wrote to Kobe.
Dear Kobe Bryant,
I guess all things really do come to an end. In February 1997, I watched a skinny 18-year old kid strut up and down the court becoming the first Laker ever to win the dunk contest. Twenty years, five championships, 33,000 points, 18 all-star appearances, 15 all-NBA and 12 all-Defensive selections, dozens of buzzer beaters, finger wags, under bite snarls, and profanity laced tirades later, it all ends tonight against Utah, fittingly, the same team where our relationship blossomed 20 years ago.
People ask sports fans, “why does it matter so much” if we aren’t the ones actually playing. What a person can learn from being a witness to the journey makes it matter. For 20 years, you’ve entered my living room, dorm room, bed room, office, and anywhere I’ve been. You’ve brought me along through some of the most thrilling and entertaining memories of my life. I’ve been there every step of the way through triumphs and heart breaks year after year after year. Watching you for two decades makes it feel like we grew up together. Growing up in Massachusetts as a diehard Lakers fan has been difficult. I’ve defended you from haters for what feels like my whole life, and I thank you for making it easy for me as you continued to improve and win title after title.
You’ve taught me so much about how to strive to be the best version of myself. The hours of work you put in behind the scenes, the dedication to perfecting your craft, your tireless preparation, your unrelenting drive, and your cold blooded killer instinct have been both an inspiration and motivation to tackle anything life throws my way.
Over the past twenty years, I attended and graduated from high school, moved away to college and graduated from there as well, got married, lived in 5 different states, started a business, and had 2 children, and the only consistent and constant thing I’ve had through all the changes has been you. Thank you for always putting your heart and soul into your craft and never disappointing.
I remember sitting in the living room, as I watched you battle the seasoned Utah Jazz to the waning seconds of the ’96-’97 season. I saw a Lakers team afraid to shoot the ball; I saw all-stars scared of the moment. I watched you, a rookie, launch four shots, none of which even touched the rim. Shooting four air balls in crunch time of an elimination game is generally a death sentence for a young player. But I knew you were destined for greatness in the season opener of the following season against the same Utah team. I snuck into the basement to watch the game as I often did to watch games well passed my bed time on school nights, and watched you pour in 23 points. You put an inside out cross over spin move on Jeff Hornacek that I later practiced for months.
Since that day, you’ve had this super hero aura about you. No matter what the situation, as long as you were on the court, I always believed you would find a way to win. That’s why I never turned the TV off in games like Dallas 2002. Down by 27 points and heading into the fourth quarter, I watched you score 21 in the quarter including the game winner. There was never a doubt. Never. You could make anything, do anything, and be anyone that we needed you to be. You were supposed to just be my childhood hero, but that has lasted into my thirties. My bedroom at my parents’ house is still covered wall-to-wall in your posters, dozens of your jerseys still hang in my closet, your basketball cards fill my drawers, and your sneakers litter the entry way.
I still can’t believe it ends tonight. I guess I grew so accustomed to you winning, I just assumed you would be the first person to beat father time. There’s not much more to say but thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you for putting that spin move on Hornacek in ’97. Thank you for throwing that behind the back fake pass on Dikembe and hitting that fading out of bounds hook shot in the ’98 all-star game in MSG. Thank you for tipping in Glen Rice’s intentionally missed free throw against Golden State. Thank you for leading us in points, rebounds, assists, steals, and blocks in Game 7 of the 2000 WCF against Portland when we were down 15 in the fourth quarter. Thank you for scoring 8 points in overtime in Game 4 in the Finals against Indiana. Thank you for nearly running the table in 2001 and keeping Iverson in check after Game 1. Thank you for calling Shaq at two in the morning before Game 7 against Sacramento in 2002 and winning in overtime on the road. Thank you for hitting those two wild three pointers at the end of regulation and overtime against Portland to end the regular season. Thank you for hanging 55 on MJ and giving him a proper send off against the Wizards. Thank you for hitting that three-pointer over Rip Hamilton in Game 2 in 2004, I spent all my money to fly to that game and see it in person. Thank you for the 9 straight 40 point games. Thank you for the up and under windmill dunk against the Knicks – that was jarring. Thank you for pouring 62 on Dallas through three quarters, and then 81 a few weeks later against Toronto. Thank you for the 4 straight 50-point games, including the 65-point gem against Portland. Thank you for dominating every time you came to town to play the Celtics, I watched you in person every year. Thank you for sending the game to overtime, then hitting the game-winner in Game 4 against Phoenix in 2006. Thank you for not leaving us when your frustration with management boiled over. Thank you for carrying Team USA in crunch time in the Gold Medal game against Spain. Thank you for giving us a fourth ring against Orlando, I cried that night. Thank you for beating Boston in 7 Games in 2010; that one was very personal. Thank you for all the thrills, game-winners, and dominance of the 2013 season; only a torn Achilles could stop you that year. Thank you for fighting your way back. Thank you for beating Brooklyn this year; the last time I saw you in person.
Thank you for studying and emulating the greatest basketball player of all-time in Michael Jordan, and daring to come closer to him than anyone in the history of the game has. “But Kobe’s not Jordan” should not be a knock on your resume; how close you came is perhaps your greatest accomplishment.
Thank you for teaching me about winning and losing, about practice, about what 4 A.M. means, about dedication, perseverance, pride, and what it takes to be one of the greatest of all time. Thank you for “next season starts today,” I cried that night too.
You’ve been everything I could have hoped to have over these past twenty years. I’ve shed tears for you and tonight will be no different. Four years from now you will walk into my hometown of Springfield, MA to be inducted into the Hall of Fame. I will be 35-years old in attendance, and everything would have come full circle. Until that night, Kobe –
Thank you.
Sincerely,
Nabeel Hazratji
