The world has lost Kobe Bryant; the Clippers, the Lakers, and the community around Los Angeles are grieving together.
I was driving to the West Hollywood Farmers’ Market, just a few miles from the Staples Center when one of my best basketball friends texted me. Kobe Bryant died in a helicopter crash? It was more of a question than a statement, she was looking for crowdsourcing confirmation as I always have all of the basketball news before everyone else. I had already been listening to NBA radio, there was nothing. I switched to CNN, still nothing. I called my daughter to put her Google skills to use. I called my dad and his girlfriend (she’s a lifelong Laker fan, which to date hasn’t impacted their great relationship) to see what they had heard. No one knew anything.
Ten minutes later, just parking near the Farmers’ Market, my daughter texted back and my phone rang at almost the exact same moment. It was unthinkably, unimaginably true. As diehard an LA Clippers’ fan as you will ever find, I sat in my car sobbing for the loss to our city, the basketball universe, and unbearably, to his family. And this was before the soul-crushing revelation that his daughter Gianna, and other children and parents, were also aboard the helicopter with no survivors of the tragic accident.
I got out of my car, more for the sense of community in this heartbreaking moment than for any actual need for fresh produce. It was a surreal scene of shared grief. Amidst the strawberries and flowers and tamales, people staring into their phones and sobbing. Kids in Lakers jerseys with parents hugging one another. I went to the fresh pickle stand; I had coincidentally had a long conversation about basketball a few weeks back with the young woman who sells the pickles.
I had been wearing a Clippers’ sweatshirt, she made a good-natured Lakers fan quip, we jokingly talked cross-town rivalry and really just shared a few fun minutes as lifelong basketball fans with different allegiances. I found her yesterday trying to do her job, selling pickled vegetables with red eyes and tear-stained cheeks. She hugged me and cried.
Kobe Bryant is a basketball icon, to be sure. His impact on the game, the players, the fans, the coaches, was already legendary. One needed only to watch any of the scheduled games that unfortunately had to go on yesterday to witness the gaping wounds throughout the community. Our own Doc Rivers attempted to form coherent words through tears. Ty Lue cried on the bench. Jerry West called it one of the worst days of his life, comparing the loss to the death of his brother in the war in Korea. The players, league-wide, honoring Kobe and Gianna with messages on their shoes and intentional 24-second violations.
The depth of this tragedy which played out round the clock before our collective, tear-filled eyes, is enormous. On a personal level, for me and for many others who may have lost a spouse, a child, a young father, a friend, even though we did not know Kobe Bryant or any of the other souls lost yesterday, it can be triggering in unexpected ways.
Reach out.
The Clipperholics writing family was in constant contact yesterday, providing support and love to one another. The music community came together last night with musical tributes at the Grammy Awards, held at Staples Center, with Kobe’s retired jerseys hanging above them in the rafters.
We have our highest highs around this sport we love as a community, and this is a time to grieve together, experiencing the lowest of lows, as a community.