Antonia Rodriguez

When I heard the news of Kobe Bryant’s passing, I was on the last day of a 6-day trip home from Seoul, South Korea where I have been living for the past 7 months.

I was seeing my family, in person, for the first time since I had left. My younger sister was now taller than me and my mother was 60 lbs lighter. My dad, my rock, hadn’t changed much but I think he hugged me the tightest. Earlier in the trip, I had seen my sister play two 8^th grade basketball games for the school we both went to. I hadn’t seen her play in person in over 7 months.

We talked on Facetime often because technology, but I hadn’t seen her play with my own two eyes in the flesh in almost a year. It’s one thing to hear your parents talk about something, and even her describe her own playing, and another thing completely to see it in action.

She was…breathtaking. Her basketball IQ had improved so much and her hunger for the game had only increased since I left. She constantly kept her head moving, kept working, kept trying to anticipate where the ball was going. The opposing offenses were nervous when she stepped out to guard the ball handler, scared her nimble fingers were going to strip them of the ball. She floated down the court and sunk more threes than I ever have. Constantly talking to her teammates and being a great coach on the court, she has really filled out into the game she loves to play.

As I sat there and watched her, I kept remembering flashes of conversations we had before I left. We talked about her top two schools Baylor and UConn. We talked about her explosiveness on man defense. We talked about the frustration when your shot won’t go. We talked basketball because it is an undeniable pillar not only in our relationship as sisters but our relationship as a whole family. Our mom played basketball as the same high school I graduated from until she blew out her knee. Our dad helps her practice and co-coaches her AAU team. When I chose to do powerlifting, it was an isolated sport with not much interaction with my parents besides them showing up to all the meets or asking me how practices went. When my sister chose basketball, it united our family even more.

One of my biggest anticipations of this trip was to finally get to watch her play again. And I got to watch twice.

As I got home from dropping her off at a basketball friend’s house for a birthday party, I opened the door and both my parents were sitting on the couch crying. Walking further into the living room, I finally saw the TV screen on ESPN but the words didn’t register. How could they? I looked back and forth from my parents to the screen again until I finally started crying. Kobe started playing in the league the year before I was born. He was and always will be a fixture in this sport that is interwoven with my family.

And then the conflicting reports of all his children with him, none of them on board, another basketball legend fallen alongside him, due to news outlets wanting to be the first to report rather than the most accurate to report. Then, the confirmation that Bryant’s 13-year-old daughter Gianna was one of the confirmed dead. And my heart was stuck in my stomach. I think it’s still there somewhere. If fate had been kinder, my sister and Gianna Bryant could have come into UConn as freshman together. Or faced each other as opponents. That fact is something I will never be able to wrap my head around. I can’t even begin to fathom the immeasurable pain that Bryant’s wife and remaining 3 girls must be experiencing. I wouldn’t wish that breathlessness on anyone.

When my sister came home from the birthday party, my whole family hugged each other and cried. A fantastic champion for women’s basketball, father, husband, friend, baller, and his daughter gone in a flash. And, because I don’t believe in coincidences, I try to find the answer, an answer, something to explain why this happened and why now.

Right now, the pain is too fresh, and the loss is gaping. I don’t know if it will ever not be. All I can try to do is to live my life with the same work ethic and mentality. The Mamba Mentality. And when I shoot a paper ball from across my classroom and make it, “Kobe” will sting but I’ll try to say it with my chest.

It is a colossal understatement to say you will be missed. Rest in Peace Kobe. Rest in Peace Gianna. Fly high.