It was 10am on a Sunday, and I, of course, was still in bed. In my floating consciousness, I felt hands on my shoulder—someone was shaking me vigorously. This immediately sent me into alert mode because being shaken awake had been a rarity since my secondary school days. I’d usually groan and ignore the person, but on that day, I felt sober. My eyes shot open to find my sister hovering over me, which was odd because she wasn’t someone to wake me up without a reason. When she spoke, her voice sounded almost puzzled as she said, “Kobe Bryant just died.”
My sister doesn’t watch basketball, let alone play it. I could give her two pictures—one of Michael Jordan, another of Kobe Bryant—and five times out of ten, she’d probably point to MJ and say, “That’s Kobe Bryant.” She’s clueless when it comes to sports, but she knew his name. She knew how important he was, and she knew the impact his death would have—not just on me but on the world.
“Without studying, preparation, and practice, you’re leaving the outcome to fate. I don’t do fate.” — Kobe Bryant
Perhaps it’s the idea of this man, who seemed to conquer every challenge he ever faced through sheer will, perishing helplessly in a fiery blaze. Or maybe it’s the heartbreaking loss of his 13-year-old daughter, Gianna, alongside him and seven other passengers. Maybe it’s the cruel irony of both—a larger-than-life figure who spent his life obsessing over dictating his own destiny, reduced to a mere mortal, powerless during his final moments, unable to protect the daughter he cherished above anything else.
Whatever the reason, his death was devastating to basketball fans worldwide—so much so that it seems they’ve subconsciously created a religion built around him. Fans now hunt for significant sporting dates that coincide with the jersey numbers he wore for the Lakers, 8 and 24. Twenty-fourth of August has become the unofficial, official Kobe Day. Yet, in the recently concluded Paris Olympics, the gold medal basketball game between France and the USA fell on 8/10/24—a date that incorporates not only his Lakers numbers but also the 10 he wore as an Olympian.
Wait, so which is the real Kobe Day? Fans see his jersey numbers lining up on the calendar and convince themselves of a greater cosmic design. After all, what are the odds of the gold medal game happening on Kobe Day? They need to win gold for Kobe. Kobe will make sure Team USA wins. This is Kobe speaking to us. Ironically, the same men who mock women for following astrology now find themselves doing the same thing through Kobe numerology. This is precisely how fans have inadvertently formed a sports-centric faith around the Black Mamba, without even realising it.
For those unfamiliar, Bryant bestowed himself the nickname Black Mamba in the mid-2000s to create an alter ego that helped him separate his personal life and tap into an unrelenting focus on the court. Rumours suggest he drew inspiration from a documentary about the black mamba snake, admired for its fearlessness, precision, and deadly strike—qualities that mirrored his fierce approach to basketball. You still hear tales today of his unmatched work ethic, passed down by his peers and contemporaries:
Kobe played a bench warmer to 100 multiple times when he was in high school. In his worst game, he still won 100–12.
Mamba used to learn Spanish and French so he could trash-talk European players in their native languages and psych them out.
In 2015, Kobe injured his right shoulder in a game but continued playing single-handedly with his left hand.
During the 2008 Olympics, Kobe would come in at 8 a.m. with ice on his knees, sweat-drenched through his workout gear. Meanwhile, players like LeBron James and Dwyane Wade were still yawning and asking, “Where in the hell is he coming from?”
These stories now linger in the archives of YouTube, are given new life on Instagram and repackaged for new audiences on TikTok. Because of Kobe’s untimely death, these stories are on the path to becoming myths—but who’s to say they won’t eventually transform into legends?
Every religion needs a scripture; some kind of moral or ethical code to live by. Kobe fans, of course, have the “Mamba Mentality,” a philosophy created by Bryant himself that preaches discipline, perseverance, and curiosity. Bryant even published a book titled The Mamba Mentality: How I Play, offering a detailed guide to his mindset and practices. The book, like a scripture, contains personal reflections, wisdom, and lessons, and is treated like a source of truth for those seeking to emulate Bryant's success. Other elite athletes like Naomi Osaka and Anthony Davis have adopted this mindset, appearing almost as apostles to Bryant’s teachings. But this framework transcends sports itself—the idea that, through rigorous application of the Mamba Mentality, one can achieve a form of immortality through lasting impact and legacy is malleable and can be applied to various areas of life.
The idea of religious themes in sports isn’t something new. In the book Understanding Sport as a Religious Phenomenon, Eric Bain-Selbo and Gregory Sapp posit that the human need that drives religious participation—a sense of belonging, identity, and emotional experiences—are the same needs that compel people to engage deeply in sports. Think of mass gatherings, chants, and superstitions that reflect traditional religious expressions. Are you seeing the parallel?
Kobe Bryant wasn’t perfect. In 2003, a 19-year-old hotel employee accused him of sexual assault. While Bryant maintained that the encounter was consensual, the accuser disagreed, leading to a civil lawsuit that was eventually settled outside of court. It was a horrific situation that left the victim scarred and Bryant’s reputation obliterated.
Redemption is a powerful narrative often found in religious texts, and Bryant’s life reflects this narrative of repentance and public forgiveness. Following his legal issue, he issued a public apology to the victim and began repairing his personal life with his wife and children. In the years that followed, his family weathered the storm, and Bryant matured. He became deeply involved in charitable work, particularly in youth sports, education, and initiatives that supported disadvantaged communities. On the court, he became a mentor for young athletes, positioning himself as a role model who inspired many with his work ethic and dedication. After his retirement, he became a primary advocate for women’s basketball, emphasising the need for greater support for female athletes—who historically received less attention and funding compared to men’s sports. As a proud “girl dad” of three daughters, Bryant dedicated time to coaching his daughter Gianna’s youth basketball team.
For many fans, the last image they have of him is of a tender, loving father who passionately shared his love of basketball with his daughter—a far cry from his younger days when stories of his intensity and playing style screamed macho, red-blooded energy. While we cannot speak for the victims or assume their forgiveness, in the public eye, this journey quietly marked the closing chapter of Bryant’s life story of redemption.
A decade ago, kids would yell “Kobe!” as they shot crumpled paper into trash bins. Whether kids nowadays still yell his name before taking a shot or have replaced it with “Curry” remains uncertain. The future generation’s understanding of Bryant’s legacy and its lasting impact is yet to unfold. Will the next wave of athletes born after Bryant’s death practice the Mamba Mentality as a guiding philosophy? Will they look to him and start praying before important games? I don’t know, but it’s fascinating to observe.
For now, what seems certain is the unifying power of Bryant’s legacy among his devoted fans. Across different backgrounds, cultures, and political ideologies, there is a shared identity and common ground to be had. This social cohesion spans oceans and borders, satisfying the human need for connection, inspiration, and belonging. After all, this has long been the role religion has served for societies, centuries before the deification of Kobe Bryant.
