Whenever we visited my gramps as kids, we'd sit with him and watch the Lakers on his fat old TV with the wood panel siding and turn dial buttons. Gramps would quote statistics and chat gregariously about the Lakers playoff chances. I remember asking him once what he thought about a rising star named Kobe Bryant. He chuckled and ruefully shook his head. "He can shoot but he doesn't pass."

In the summer of 2009, while the Lakers were making a playoff run, my gramps was in the hospital with cancer and a head injury. "Gramps," we'd say. "The Lakers are in the playoffs. They're heading for the finals!" Every time, he'd chuckle and blink at us like someone seeing through a haze. "Is that right?" he'd say with wonderment. We watched the games with him on the little TV suspended in the corner; often he slept through it and we watched anyway. My dad brought the newspaper and read to him from the sports section. Kobe won the series MVP and led them to victory in five games on June 13. My gramps was too sick and gone already to understand that the team he loved were champions. He died nine days later. It would have made him tremendously happy to see.

Anyway. I'm not personally into sports, and I dislike celebrity worship, especially when it distracts us from their character flaws. So I post about Kobe Bryant, mostly because news of his sudden death brought me back to my grandfather, and gave me a chance to say goodbye again to someone that I love.

--Jan 26 2020