nough time has passed.
I know … I know. Who’s to say? Who is the arbiter of such a decision? Who is the official life historian in charge of deciding when we can speak truthfully of a deceased human being’s complicated legacy?
I’m not sure.
But, for me, enough time has passed.
It has been nearly a year since Kobe Bryant and eight others died in an unthinkable helicopter crash in the hills of Calabasas, California, and in the ensuing months we have (rightly, understandably, humanely) been reminded that the legendary Laker was an Academy Award winner, a #girldad, an entrepreneur, a youth coach, a visionary. We’ve discussed his five championship rings, his unrivaled work ethic, his unwillingness to take no for an answer. Kobe Bryant was a savvy businessman, a forward thinker, a Southern California staple and — one might argue — the most revered athlete in the Golden State’s history. He signed autographs without hesitation. He contributed to myriad charities. His smile rivaled Magic Johnson’s for sunny optimism, and his game was magnificently Jordan-esque.
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