Why the Death of Kobe Bryant Hits Us so Hard — and How to Cope
It's November, 1996, and I'm 13 years old. My father and I are sitting court-side at the Los Angeles Forum as the Lakers take position. "Keep an eye on this kid," my dad says, nudging me to glance up from my hot dog and peanuts. "He's gonna be a star." Dad is talking about Kobe Bryant, the 18-year old wunderkind who, standing only about five feet from where I sit, looks to be about three times my size.
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