I enjoyed watching Kobe Bryant as a Celtics fan. Sue Me.

One year ago today Kobe Bryant and his daughter died in horrible helicopter accident. Because of this tragedy I think it takes the stink out of me admitting to being a Kobe fan. Unless you’re Billy Trashcan it’s just harder to drink the hateraid when someone is dead. But, make no mistake about it. I have taken my fair share of Kobe shaming in my day.

Look, before 2008 and Kevin Garnett the Celtics fucking stunk. And in ‘98 when Kobe really came on the season the Celtics really fucking stunk. Don’t get me wrong. I am always laundry over everything, but when your team blows you look for rays of sunshine on your Dog’s ass. (In this metaphor I think the Dog is the Celtics and I’m not sure what their ass is. Milt Palacio?)

More to the point here, watching Kobe Bryant play basketball was poetry in motion and I’m sorry I happen to be a hopeless romantic. The same way a Tom Brady seam route or a 1st to home double play gets my knickers tight, Kobe Bryant carving up defenses with the foot work of a Russian Ballerina and sweet stroke of (insert your personal Hand Job King/Queen) brought a tear to my eye. The savage competitor that was Mamba Mentality can only be found in the likes of a Brady and Jordan. Name me another athlete with the pedigree and sickening drive to never lose.

So R.I.P. Kobe. Every trash can the recipient of a missed paper ball shot bellows your name. KOBE!