Mamba, out.

Kobe Bryant was a jerk. At least he used to be one. He started his pro life as an NBA player with the promise of greatness. And he delivered on that. But he wasn’t warmly embraced. He was too worldly to be hood. He was a rich kid without street cred. He wasn’t as meek as a rookie should be. He was charismatic without being media friendly.

But he could play. Damn could he play. His killer instinct matched that of Michael Jordan. Unlike Jordan Kobe didn’t have a signature move, he just did it all better than most of his peers. His relentless pursuit of winning even elevated his future HOF teammates like Shaq. But he suffered no fools, either you elevated your game or he Smush Parker’d your way out of town.

As he neared the end of his career Kobe finally embraced the statesmanship that comes with being one of the best to ever do it. Ever in control, he became more media friendly and morphed from a sports icon into a cultural one.

His death is a shocking one, yet it’s the proof that he was in fact mortal. His life showed otherwise.