Part 1: http://thegaber.wordpress.com/2010/06/03/dear-mr-bryant/

Part 2: http://thegaberintoronto.com/2011/12/26/dear-mr-bryant-part-ii/

Part 3: http://thegaberintoronto.com/2012/08/10/dear-mr-bryant-part-iii/

“Live in a way, in which you die, everyone mourns but you rejoice.” –Anonymous

Dear Mr. Bryant,

They say hindsight is 20/20, which is why I gave myself some time before I wrote you this letter. I didn’t want it to come off as reactionary.

Since the injury that caused your Achilles tendon to tear, I’ve watched it around 25 times, each time less painful as the first. Time heals all, as people like to say; but raw emotion is the most genuine.

On Friday night when you tore your Achilles tendon on what looked like a routine drive, I was rendered speechless. Luckily, I haven’t experienced any deaths in my family at this point in my life but when you hobbled off the court after a THIRD injury to your lower body in the same night and didn’t return, it felt as if someone close to me had passed away. I felt hollow, and watched the remaining four minutes of the game in silence, numb to whatever else happened beyond that point.

After the game I scrolled through my Twitter feed and streamed your press conference to find out the severity of the injury. Upon finding out it was the Achilles, one writer tweeted that the previous players who suffered this injury (Chauncey Billups, Elton Brand and Mehmet Okur) never reached their pre-injury playing form. And on top of that you were fighting back tears as the media barraged you with questions. Subconsciously tears rolled down my cheek, as the reality of having to watch Lakers basketball without you became a possibility for the first time in 17 years. I was devastated.

We all need hope in our lives, it’s used a motive for a lot of us normal folk to continue to live. Hope that we do well in school, so we can hopefully get into university, which we hope can lead to a career that can provide for our future families, so on and so forth. You were that hope for so many of us, even when we come up a little short in our daily goals we all knew at 7:30 p.m. PST we’d be able to switch on our television sets and live vicariously through your heroics to feel vindicated. If you can make three impossible three pointers to orchestrate a comeback against the Toronto Raptors, then we could most definitely nail a measly job interview.

Side note: the day of the Warriors game I had a meeting with the chair of a prospective post-secondary school I was looking to transfer to. In preparation for said meeting, I watched your latest interview with TWC  and mimicked your mannerisms when the meeting occurred.

I refused to believe this was the end to your legendary career. That one attempted drive to the basket gone wrong would prematurely end your quest for a sixth ring to tie Michael Jordan. I couldn’t believe it, so I continued to sit through your interview, as the tears continued to waterfall incessantly, hoping you’d provide me with some sort of silver lining to this tragedy.

And it came. A reporter asked the million dollar question that was on all of our minds: “if anyone is going to get through this, it’s probably you right?” (in reference to how your willpower is equal to that of 25 hungry mountain lions each fighting over a piece of raw meat)

Then you replied as only you can: “Ah sh*t…I was really tired man, just tired in the locker room, upset and dejected thinking about this (pause) mountain man to overcome…I mean this is a long process, I wasn’t sure I could do it. Then your kids walk in, then you’re like I gotta set an example, Daddy’s gonna be fine, I’m gonna do it, work hard and just go from there.”

At that moment you weren’t just talking to Natalia and Gianna, you were talking to the rest of us who look up to you like a father.

The fear of losing my idol to injury was replaced with a sense of appreciation of what you’ve already meant. Sure, you might never come back the same player (fingers crossed that you’ll come back even better) but the way you went out that night should serve as an eternal source of inspiration in itself. On one leg you made two free throws, which ended up being the decisive two points the Lakers won by, walked to the locker room on your own accord, reflected and put everything into context.

You put a lot of money into the Kobe System campaign last year, but you advertised it perfectly Friday night. By handling the situation the way you did, you came off as a warrior even in your weakest moment, and that is the true essence of the Kobe System.

Later that night you posted a rant on Facebook saying “there are far greater issues in the world than a torn achilles. Stop feeling sorry for yourself and get to work with the same belief, same drive and same conviction as ever.”

And for the upteempth time you were right.

Two nights later, your team put together one of their best performances of the season by downing the San Antonio Spurs. The day after, bombings occured at the finish line of the Boston Marathon. In other words, life went on.

You have spoiled us with your talent Mr. Bryant, and for that I don’t have enough words to express my gratitude for. Instead I’m grateful that your injury has allowed me to see that I should cherish every moment as we never know when the goals we strive all our lives for can be taken away from us in an instant; just as they were from you Friday night.

Get better soon Mr. Bryant, I love you.

Sincerely,

Gabriel “Gaber” Lee

To whom it may concern,

I’ve thought extensively about how to write this post, but was never happy with what I drafted but here it goes anyways…

Goodbyes are one of the most difficult parts of life. Every time you close a door, you open a new one in turn you also enter a new room, or in this case I move back to my old room at my parents’ place, as for the time being I’ve decided to move back home to Vancouver.

I’ve been asked a lot on why I made this decision more than halfway through my journalism degree at Ryerson University. Those of you expecting a long winded explanation just because I love to write are going to be disappointed as the explanation is simply because it just felt right.

Whenever one embarks on a journey, it’s human nature to idealize the process and more importantly the goal. I guess that’s what happened when I set off to my studies at Ryerson; I assumed that being accepted to “the best journalism school in Canada” would lead me to a life of journalistic prestige. Then reality hits, you see that things aren’t what you thought they would be and you back track. Now I may be back home and some people may view it as a step backwards but I view it as seeing familiar things differently with the knowledge of knowing that what’s best for others is not always what’s best for myself.

The most influential person of my time in Toronto told me that the best thing for a student is to know what he wants to do with the rest of his life; the next best thing is know what he doesn’t want to do. I didn’t know what that meant initially, as it sounded like a backhanded compliment; but with time I embraced the meaning of that message. I mean who really knows what they want to do at 20-years old? Some might think they do but then change their minds later in life, I’m just changing my mind now.

When I look back at my two and a half years at Ryerson, I won’t remember the countless hours in the editing suites, attempting to pass a CP style test for the third time or trying to figure out why (insert piece of equipment here) is refusing to work today when the assignment is due in two hours. I’ll remember all the laughs, the struggles and experiences that transformed me from a boy to a man.

“We started from the bottom now we here.”  -Drake

One love,

Gabriel “Gaber” Lee.

Part 1: http://thegaber.wordpress.com/2010/06/03/dear-mr-bryant/

Part 2: http://thegaberintoronto.com/2011/12/26/dear-mr-bryant-part-ii/

Dear Kobe,

On our way to lunch a couple weeks back, my friend Josiah and I (both life-long admirers of your craft) began to ponder what makes you greater than your colleagues, who also make their living by playing a sport millions across the world consider a hobby.

I asked Josiah what his thoughts were on the subject, despite having come to a conclusion a night ago while I had the same debate internally.

I needed confirmation from someone who has not only watched basketball for as long as I have but idolized Kobe to the same degree as I.

After about five minutes of dead-air, he shrugged and said “I don’t know man, that’s a tough one.”

So I launched my pre-prepared ramble onto him, praying that it made a lick of sense.

I believe that your greatness is derived from your opaqueness. The ethos of Kobe Bean Bryant is perfectly tailored to suit what you want the public to see.

What do we really know about you besides the obvious? Let’s go down the list.

We know that you’re a five-time champion, you’re hyper-competitive, you’re the best two-guard since Jordan and you’re the father of two beautiful daughters? Check and check.

But what else?

In a generation where players are more than eager to shed parts of their personal lives through social media you’ve gone the opposite route and merely use Facebook to further the Kobe Bryant brand instead of letting us inside the life of Kobe Bryant the man.

Just as the World Wrestling Federation protected Hulk Hogan’s brand by only allowing him to appear in big matches, you’ve done the same by keeping your life as private as possible. It’s pure genius. It keeps us wanting more. 

Josiah quickly chimed in that in comparison to you, he stated that athletes who overexpose themselves to the public such your teammate Ron “Metta World Peace” Artest and Chad Johnson bring themselves down to our level, they become almost like our friends while you retain your invincibility cloak.

In University English class I learnt that the most important moment to an audience that is consuming a piece of satire is when it recognizes that what they’re watching is satirical; once that moment strikes, everything is viewed differently.

In a way your career has been a lengthy piece of satire. Your PR team has ensured that the moments in which you’re humanized come few and far in between. But those moments do eventually come to the light and unfortunately for you, they tend to be maligned moments you’d never share with us fans if you were given the choice.

It’s hard to believe it’s been 9 years since the rape consensual sex case in Colorado tarnished your reputation temporarily. I was too young to understand what you were doing was wrong. I read about it on the cover of USA Today while on vacation in Las Vegas, I asked my parents what was the issue, but they refused to explain in detail.

So when you hosted a press conference with your wife by your side, and delivered your carefully packaged apology I bought every word like any naïve teenager would. 

But time (and winning) heals all. Your image recovered year by year, win by win, Kobe face by Kobe face to the point where your jersey was once again the led the league in sales this past year. Tiger Woods and LeBron James followed the path that you blazed: coercing the public to forgive through delivering victories that satisfy them viscerally.

Nine years later, when WWE’s A.W. character used your rape trial as a punchline to taunt an opponent, no one even flinched. The narratives was how dare you joke about that rather than I can’t believe he did that to a girl. 

That was then and this is now. Thus, when I received a phone call from my aunt in Hong Kong asking if I’ve seen him the photo of my idol partying, I knew it couldn’t be good news.

According to my aunt, photos of you topless at a nightclub with two women flanking you began to surface the internet. I Googled it after she hung up and found out it was true. This time I didn’t need my parents to explain to me the context of the situation.

 Your carefully sculpted reputation was once again at stake.

But the difference between this scandal (and your on again and off again divorce) and the rape trial was this: you were afforded the opportunity to immediately correct your wrongs off the court by your memorizing play on it (lighting Nigeria up for 16 points in 11 minutes of play, scoring 20 points in a half against the Kangaroos). As I stated before, winning heals all and in the summer of 2003 there were no games for you to make the fans forget about your wrong doings.   

However, it sure is interesting to note the difference between where you want the public to think you are at 4 a.m. (seething over a loss while studying game film alone in your hotel room) in contrast to where you actually are at 4 a.m. (unleashing your Black Mamba onto female victims).

It’s unfair to expect you not to have a social life when you’re the one of the most recognizable basketball players of all time spending two weeks at the grandest sporting event of all time. It’s an unfair standard I hold you to, but it’s you who set the bar that high thus making it impossible to lower.

I suppose it’s a wakeup call. A reminder that no human no matter how hard he or she tries is free of imperfection, but you’re the closest thing the human race has to immortal and for that I’ll love you unconditionally for. 

Sincerely, 

Gaber

Reblogged from The Bottom Corner:

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Signed in 2004 from Feyenoord - you were dubbed the successor of the legendary Dennis Bergkamp. You made yourself known when you scored that brilliant last minute equalizer against Southampton at Highbury and went on to help us reach the FA Cup final in 2005 which ultimately was our last trophy as of now. You scored screamers and displayed talent that transcended other youngsters.

Read more… 980 more words

“Sports is a metaphor for life. Everything is black and white on the surface. You win, you lose, you laugh, you cry, you cheer, you boo, and most of all, you care. Lurking underneath that surface, that’s where all the good stuff is — the memories, the connections, the love, the fans, the layers that make sports what they are. It’s not about watching your team win the Cup as much as that moment when you wake up thinking, In 12 hours, I might watch my team win the Cup. It’s black and white, but it’s not.”

-An excerpt from Bill Simmons’ latest piece “The Consequences of Caring”

Ever since my early years, I’ve had a bad habit of over caring about the result of sports games played on television despite having no correlation to the players whatsoever. Unlike most people, I didn’t grow up watching a lot of television, just the odd episode of Recess here and there. I gradually replaced Sunday mass with NBA on ABC specials, and I would organize my social schedule around when the Los Angeles Lakers played; on most games nights I didn’t join the family at the dinner table, electing to stay in the living room to watch Kobe and Shaq dominate.

As a result of my dull childhood habits, I missed out on a lot of things.  Case in point: One of my close friends growing up recently observed that I’d much rather sit at home and watch a NBA game then join the rest of my friends at a club, which is true.  And subconsciously, I started deriving meaning in my life from the results of these sports games. Now that I’m 20, I’ve now learned that doing so is semi-foolish. A little too much of my happiness in life relied on how the Lakers finished their season.

Normally once the Lakers are eliminated from the playoffs, I crawl up in my man cave, sulk about it for a couple days in solitude before spending the rest of my summer doing normal people things. But over the past two years I’ve realized that in order to be a knowledgeable professional basketball journalist in the future, I’d have to broaden my horizons in order to become a basketball encyclopedia and that meant I was forced to watch the rest of the playoffs for educational purposes. Ugh.

That being said, this year’s playoffs have near torturous to watch since the Lakers have been ousted akin to the helpless feeling I had when I sat in Math class absolutely clueless through my high school years (what’s a logarithm, is that the staple log ride at all amusement parks?).

The NBA’s final four read as follows: the Miami Heat, the Oklahoma City Thunder, the San Antonio Spurs and the Boston Celtics.

I hate the two young teams as they’ve gradually become better than my beloved Lakers; while through the years I’ve developed a hatred for the two older teams as they’ve been the Lakers main roadblocks on their quest for championships.

In order to make things interesting, I talked myself into cheering for the Celtics and the Spurs to meet one more time in the finals. The logic being that while Kevin Garnett, Paul Pierce and Tim Duncan were three of Kobe’s biggest adversaries, in a way they’re like the Avengers (Kobe being Captain America of course) fending off this new cocky, horribly-dressed (see: Westbrook, Russell), AAU, buddy system era of basketball.

On Twitter, I compared the possibility of KG and Timmy meeting in the final to the Undertaker and Triple H’s match at Wrestlemania. The WWE advertised that match as the end of an era, if the Celtics and Spurs would’ve advanced, it would’ve been the same concept with the myriad of aging stars gifted the opportunity to finish as a champion one final champion. As we all know now, that fantasy didn’t exactly come to fruition.

Quick tangent: recently to prove my stubbornness, my friend asked me whom my favourite five players in the league are (Lakers excluded). My answers were Paul Pierce, Manu Ginobili, Kevin Garnett, Jason Kidd and Tracy McGrady.

As talented as this new era is, I didn’t have to accept them yet as they’ve combined for zero championships (besides Dwyane Wade but he needed Shaq for his chip in 2006). As much as I disdained watching Dirk Nowitzki and Jason Kidd hoist their first championship together, it was sweeter to watch LeBron James, the self-proclaimed chosen one, crumble repeatedly in the fourth quarter (insert your own joke here).

But as they say all good things must come to an end and it appears this is the year that the new era begins their era. Kevin Durant led his Oklahoma City Thunder past the Dallas Mavericks, the Lakers (still trying to erase that from my memory) and the San Antonio Spurs in succession. Those three teams Durant’s Thunder cruised eliminated had represented the Western Conference in the finals for the past thirteen years, count em’ THIRTEEN.

The more I watch Durant and LeBron’s greatness, the harder it is to hate them. I mean what have they really done wrong besides devote themselves to become better and better at the game they love, the same way Kobe did oh so many years ago.

Even the biggest Kobe homers must accept the fact that the torch has been passed from the Black Mamba to the King. Look no further than his defining performances against the Celtics in closeout games the past two years: last year, he scored the last 10 points of Game 5 and this year with his Heat down 3-2, he scored 45 points in Game 6 while shooting a whopping 73 per cent.

Yet the truth still remains, LeBron will never be Kobe to his generation of fans akin to how Kobe will never be Jordan to the past generation. Kobe never had to join his best friend to win a championship. Kobe never had to throw powder into the air before the game to showboat. Kobe certainly never said “all the people that were rooting for me to fail, at the end of the day have to wake up tomorrow and have the same life they had before” in response to his critics; instead he delivers gems like “losing is losing, there are different degrees of it but the result is the same.”

With the Thunder and the Heat meeting in the 2012 final, there’s no more old guys to cheer for (besides Derek Fisher). It’s guaranteed that between these two teams, when the dust is cleared and the debris is swept off either Kevin Durant or LeBron James will win their first NBA championship.

My friend followed up his initial question by informing me that these guys (LeBron, Wade, Durant) will be the old guys I’m cheering for in five more years. When he put it in perspective, I decided it may finally be time to embrace this new wave of talent, unless Kobe flies to Germany annually to get that magical procedure so he can play until he’s 45.

If sports is really a metaphor for life as Mr. Simmons suggests, and because it means the world to me, it became evident that I was unwilling to accept not only a new era of basketball stars but the new era of life that is looming. A new era of life that includes being financially responsible, mortgages, meaningful relationships and all that other stuff adults have to deal with.

We’ll see where my head’s at when Game 1 tips off tomorrow night, but for now my hate for LeBron James is at an all-time low. And if I out of all people can accept LeBron’s undeniable talent then so can you. I might become a “witness” over the next two weeks or I might just re-direct all my attention to the European soccer championships to avoid the reality that the NBA and life is slowly becoming what it’s always been: a world dictated by the young and the able who inevitably supplant their predecessors.

It’s your stage now young fellas, please put on a show and don’t forget to take a bow after you’re done.