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30.11.2015
Three years ago, Kobe Bryant carved into a steak at a Minneapolis restaurant and considered the end of everything. His body hadn’t begun to break down, but it turned out that betrayal would come soon. On a frigid November night, Bryant had started to anticipate all the years and all the young legs getting over on him, inspiring a declaration that he’d never stay too long.
“Just thinking about some of the guys that I take advantage of now, taking advantage of me later – that doesn’t sit too well with me,” Bryant told me.
Three years later, they’re getting over on Kobe Bryant. For as excruciating as it’s been for everyone to watch him struggle this way, it’s far worse for him to endure. He can’t work his way out of this trouble. He can’t lose himself in the practice gym and make it all better.
It isn’t ending for Kobe Bryant.
It is over.
He isn’t losing it.
It’s gone.
“My body knows it’s time to say goodbye,” Bryant wrote in a poem made public on Sunday night. The inevitable is etched within the record now. He is a forever talent in the NBA, a forever achiever of five championships and an MVP. Bryant has been a tortured genius, a talent born of relentless repetition and peerless passion. Few ever cared so deeply for a craft, ever committed such deep devotion.