Kobe, you’re good enough in my youth


The day came when Bryant announced he would retire at the end of the season.
“Dear basketball,” Bryant wrote in a retirement post.
When I was a six-year-old boy, I loved you deeply.
I play with sweat and pain, not because the challenge calls me, but because you call me.
I did everything for you, because that’s what I should do.
But I can’t love you for longer.
But my body knows it’s time to say goodbye.
That’s ok. I’m ready to let you go.
I hope to let you know now that we can all enjoy the rest of the moment.
Whether it’s good or bad.
We have given each other everything.
We all know that whatever I do next, I will always be that child.
Wear rolled socks, garbage cans in the corner.
Last five seconds, the ball is in my hand.
Love you forever,
Kobe Bryant
I can’t write down any word for a long time.
I know that even at the last minute of leaving, you’re still sticking to what you’ve been doing for 20 years on the field: playing, getting a card, taking a break, shooting a shot, beating all your opponents.
You entered the league, and as a high school student, you have the highest number of high school students in America, and no one can break your high school record even today.
Your first shot was a three-way shot, and your first goal was a free throw.
You’re in the league, you’re 13, you’re not in a high position, but the lakers have traded the main center for you.
The general manager knows: you will be the future of the league.
When you enter the league, the four big centers are still there, and Michael Jordan is still there.
You’re not the league’s favorite, and you’ve been a substitute, and there’s no other star’s focus.
You went to see Michael Jordan, and he admired you very much.
Michael Jordan said to you, you need to practice at least 1,500 times a day, and you have to do it 1,000 times.
You’ve been surprised by Jordan’s efforts, and you’ve begun the story of four in the morning in Los Angeles.
In the early years, you and o ‘neal made up the league’s strongest oK portfolio.
You cast in the west in the post-jordan era of the first dynasty, you said to o ‘neal: give me the ball, I’ll take you home.
The break with o ‘neal left you in the bottom of the pack, and everyone watched you flounder as the lakers struggled through the margins of the western conference playoffs.
You don’t despair, you pull on your teammates, you curse and play, you get angry, you get 81 points for the raptors.
You’ve conquered your opponent and scored 62 points for Dallas.
You’re averaging 40 points per month.
All managers are proud to be able to limit your score to below 40.
In those years, you were the most powerful scorer in the league, and you beat the so-called “kobe terminator” over and over again.
In the last years of your career, you’ve been plagued by injuries, just trying to bring better results to the lakers, you’ve overused yourself, and you’ve forgotten that your body is no longer young.
In 20 years, more than 50,000 minutes on the court, not a person, even the machines have been updated.
When you were young, you were crazy, and you were unique.
I don’t like shaquille o ‘neal.
In old age you regret your past.
But all of this is encouraging us: only the desire of the champion, the most sincere love of basketball, can stand on the top of the world.
I knew that this day would come, but I still had a hard time accepting it.
After loving you, you can never love another star.
Maybe a lot of years later, when I look at the history of the nBA with my kids, I’ll still be red eyed when I turn to your page.
The child might ask who this was, and I would silently touch his head and tell him that it was his father’s youth.
Bless you, kobe.
May you continue to enjoy life outside of the stadium after your retirement