We all know those journalist types, with all of their pushy questions and all of their twisting words and their Twitter accounts with all of their borderline funny comments. They’re really just the worst, right?
I mean, what kind of person has the gumption (such a journalist word, by the way) to tell someone else’s story for around 700 to 1,000 words and then expects to hear more about the way the story was told than the actual story itself, once it goes to press?
I’ll tell you who. A real self-centered jerk. A real egomaniac. Someone getting dangerously close to talking about himself exclusively in the third person, like Bob Dole or Elmo or that guy Jimmy from “Seinfeld” (Julius Caesar, Salvador Dali and Pele were also known for this but are less funny examples).
But Tripp says… I mean, I say… that no matter what your opinion of journalists is, after hearing Kevin Durant’s recent comments regarding their treatment of Kobe Bryant this year, you’ve gotta at least hate the way they ridiculed one of the game’s greatest players prior to his announcing his retirement.
Durant had this to say in an interview with multiple media types from multiple media outlets after the Oklahoma Thunder’s game against the Atlanta Hawks last Monday:
“I’ve been disappointed this year because you guys [media] treated him like s***. He’s a legend, and all I hear is about how bad he’s playing, how bad he’s shooting, time for him to hang it up. You guys treated one of our legends like s***, and I didn’t really like it. Hopefully, now you can start being nice to him, now that he decided to retire after this year. It was sad the way he was getting treated.”
Now, Durant idolizing Bryant probably isn’t news to many people. At 27, K.D. started watching basketball around the same time I did: Michael Jordan was on his way out, Kobe Bryant was on his way in. But his comments about reporters were somewhat shocking — at least, you know, to a reporter.
The headlines don’t lie. “What’s wrong with Kobe?” “Bryant’s lost his shot.” “Time to hang it up.”
I’m not saying that the media is completely to blame for why Bryant decided to hang it up. At 37, there’s no doubt that he’s old. Not really so much old for the Earth, but definitely old for the NBA — which, in case you weren’t aware, calls for a lot of running and jumping and other activities that require a pretty significant amount of cartilage.
But, still, I’m sure it didn’t help. Think about it. What if you had the media all over you about your being at the end of the line. “Has local insurance salesman lost his people skills?” “Is arthritis to blame for local school teacher’s cursive demise?” “Why does local journalist continue to seek own praise after release of feature stories?”
Eventually, it would probably get to you. I know it would get to me. Even if most of those headlines were just to sell newspapers or get picked up in Google search results. Even if the reality of the situation is that one of the best players to ever play the game should get to decide when to retire, on his own terms. Even if all of those reporters are probably just jealous because, like Bryant, they had once wanted to play professional basketball, too.
Either way, Kobe handled it with class, as made evident by his retirement poem, which goes a little something like this:
And we both know, no matter what I do next
I’ll always be that kid
With the rolled up socks
Garbage can in the corner
:05 seconds on the clock
Ball in my hands.
5… 4… 3… 2… 1
Love you always,
Kobe
How do you like that? Not only is the guy one of the greatest players of all time, but he’s a poet, too.
The poem’s titled “Dear Basketball” and highlights his start as a kid imagining he’s got the game-winning shot. Well, I was that kid, too. With five seconds left, with a full count and the bases loaded, and on the last play of the game, and the Super Bowl on the line — as I imagine a lot of sports reporters were. But I never made that dream come true, like I’m sure a lot of other sports reporters didn’t, either. But that’s no excuse.
So, on behalf of sports reporters everywhere, I’d like to offer Bryant an apology poem called “Dear Kobe.” Only, the thing is that I can’t. Because while I may have once wanted to be — just like I may have wanted to be a pro-athlete — I’m just not much of a poet, either.