…me and the mamba

kobe champ2I was eight years old when

a kind of magic entered my life:

call him greatness personified,

wizardry, focus, deadly villain, even

deadlier hero.

I dreamt of one day standing in

those same shoes, on a court somewhere

like my hero.

All kids dream and I dreamed

even bigger than most,

just my nature,

or maybe the things

I learned from watching…

I’m not lacing up on hardwood under

white and yellow lights,

that certain dream died a long time ago

when I gained a sense of perspective,

around age twelve, or something like that.

(A 5’8 guy from Hungary… some dreams are too big, maybe)

But other things came from that and

I never stopped learning

from the man who graced my wall,

my dreams and the depths of my mind, so many times:

endless rainy afternoons on the

driveway, the patio,

learning that one word…dedication.

To be something that we can be proud of,

with sweat, blood, pain, but the best kind…

the kind that leads to legacy, legendary status.

Always fighting, always looking up,

finding ways to be better,

bigger, making it with fists, aimed at those invisible demons,

and smiles, most of all, yellow spray in the air,

in my veins.

Wouldn’t be who I am

if it wasn’t for the Mamba.

I’m not the only one.

Kobe changed so many worlds,

so many lives,

and we are in your debt, forever…

We will never forget what you did for us…

Mamba out

But not really…

Burning somewhere divine forever…

 

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