A hollywood ending, p.19
A Hollywood Ending, page 19
That night he overtook Kobe, LeBron had inscribed “Mamba 4 Life” and “8/24 KB” on his sneakers in gold marker. “Just to be able to, at this point of my career, to share the same jersey that he wore, be with this historical franchise, and just represent the purple and gold, it’s very humbling, and it’s dope,” he told reporters afterward.
The Lakers lost to the Sixers that night, but they’d won three of their five games on the trip. The next morning, they boarded the team plane at Philadelphia International Airport. Once in the air, some of the guys played cards. Most shut their eyes. The Lakers were 36–10 and headed home. In just a few hours, they’d be stepping out onto the tarmac at LAX, where they’d be greeted with warm weather and sunny skies.
* * *
• • •
Davis was watching Avengers: Endgame on his iPad when he noticed Howard and Cousins scurrying around a few rows in front of him. He looked up. Howard called him over.
Davis removed his noise-canceling headphones.
Man, Kobe died, Howard said.
The news began making its way around the plane. Players reached for their phones. Davis made his way over to the still-asleep LeBron to share the news.
Man, y’all stop playin’—like, stop playing with me, LeBron said.
He spotted Howard, whose eyes were welling up with tears.
It’s true, Howard said.
Jeanie, on the ground in LA, confirmed the news, then informed the team’s director of media relations, Alison Bogli, who was on the flight. Bogli told Vogel. Vogel made his way to the front of the plane and told the players.
Some details started making the rounds. A helicopter crash in Calabasas. Kobe was on board. Vanessa was not. Those were the confirmed facts. The rest was unknown. Was anyone else with him? If so, who? Rumors were swirling. Matt Gutman, the chief national correspondent for ABC News, interrupted the network’s broadcast of the NFL Pro Bowl to report that all four of Kobe’s children had died. Former Lakers forward Rick Fox’s name started trending on Twitter.
LeBron gathered the players together. He had no words. All they could do was pray.
“Even though at times we question him and question why he do some of the things that he do, know that [God’s] never made a mistake,” he later told ESPN when recounting the words he shared. “And just hope that he has his hands on top of Vanessa and the kids at that time, and hope that he continues to watch over all of us.”
As the Lakers approached LA, more details were confirmed. Nine people were on board. Kobe, the pilot, and seven passengers. One of them was Kobe’s thirteen-year-old daughter, Gianna. They were headed to Kobe’s Mamba Sports Academy.
The Lakers landed at around 2 p.m. local time. They were welcomed by foggy skies. The players, shoulders slumped, descended the airstairs and walked onto the tarmac. Most had their sweatshirt hoods pulled over their heads. Jeanie and Pelinka had driven out to Orange County to be with Kobe’s family, but other Lakers executives greeted the group. LeBron, wet tissue in hand and sunglasses on, embraced those who knew Kobe best, like Howard, who’d played alongside Kobe in LA; and Davis, who’d grown close to Kobe while playing for Team USA in 2012; and assistant coach Phil Handy, who’d also worked for the Lakers from 2011 to 2013; and Kurt Rambis, who’d known Kobe since he was a teenager.
By the evening, the full story had emerged. Kobe frequently traveled by helicopter to avoid traffic, and just the day before had made the same trip north from his home in Newport Beach to Thousand Oaks, where his academy was based, turning a two-hour drive into a thirty-minute commute. The group was going to a youth basketball game. The helicopter had taken off despite dense fog blanketing the area that had grounded other flights. It had crashed into a hillside and caught fire near a biking trail in Calabasas.[*2] All nine people on board had died, including the pilot, Ara Zobayan. There were three children on board, including Gianna. One, Alyssa Altobelli, was flying with both her parents, John and Keri. Another, Payton Chester, was flying with her mother, Sarah. The group was accompanied by a coach from the academy, Christina Mauser, a mother of three.
The news shook the entire country. “Kobe was a legend on the court and just getting started in what would have been just as meaningful a second act,” Barack Obama posted on Twitter. “To lose Gianna is even more heartbreaking to us as parents. Michelle and I send love and prayers to Vanessa and the entire Bryant family on an unthinkable day.” Taylor Swift wrote, “My heart is in pieces hearing the news of this unimaginable tragedy.” Moments of silence were held during that day’s NBA games. The Spurs and Raptors opened their game with back-to-back twenty-four-second violations in honor of one of the two jersey numbers Kobe wore. The Atlanta Hawks opened their game with an eight-second backcourt violation in honor of the other. The Grammy Awards, held that night at Staples Center, opened with a moment of silence for Kobe and featured multiple tributes. Thousands of fans gathered outside the arena, filling the plaza with flowers, jerseys, candles, and makeshift memorials.
The NBA postponed the Lakers’ next game. Two days after landing, the team gathered at the practice facility. The organization brought in grief counselors. Over a two-hour lunch, players and staff members stood up and shared memories and stories. Robert Lara, a Lakers security official who worked closely with Kobe, spoke. LeBron told a story about how, at the start of the 2008 Beijing Olympics gold medal game, Kobe elected to send a message by knocking Spanish big man Pau Gasol, his Lakers teammate, to the ground.
You’re going to have to play with this guy next season, LeBron told the room he recalled thinking.
The group laughed. The group cried. A toast was made in Kobe’s honor.
“It helped us out a lot,” Dudley recalled. “It helped [us] not move on but to just to get everything out.”
On January 31, five days after Kobe’s death, the Lakers took the floor for their first game back. Usher sang “Amazing Grace.” While Boyz II Men sang the national anthem, cameras showed LeBron, lips pursed, tears streaming down his cheeks.
Soon after, he stepped to center court and took the microphone.
He looked at a small piece of paper on which he’d written a speech.
Then he tossed it away.
“I’m going to go straight from the heart,” he said.
He talked about “Laker Nation” and how, over the previous few days, he’d learned that it was “truly a family.” He said the night should be about celebrating the player and person Kobe was and the father he had become. He talked about what Kobe meant to him.
“I want to continue, along with my teammates, to continue his legacy not only for this year but for as long as we can play the game of basketball that we love, because that’s what Kobe Bryant would want,” he said. “So in the words of Kobe Bryant, ‘Mamba out.’ But in the words of us, ‘Not forgotten.’ Live on, brother.”[*3]
The Lakers fell to the Trail Blazers that night, 127–119. But the season had taken on a new meaning. They were no longer playing for themselves. Nothing mattered more to Kobe than winning, so what better way to honor him and his legacy than bringing title No. 17 back to LA? LeBron even got the words “Mamba 4 Life” tattooed on his thigh.
The group reeled off nine wins in 10 games, and then four in five games, a streak that included victories over the Philadelphia 76ers, Milwaukee Bucks, and Los Angeles Clippers, three of the league’s top teams. “After that,” recalled Alex Caruso, a third-year wing who had emerged as a key contributor, “we kind of had the realization where if we play how we know we can play, we can get it done.”
The Lakers were rolling. They were big and talented and versatile and deep and looked to have destiny on their side.
The only thing that could stop them, it seemed, would be if the games themselves ceased being played.
Skip Notes
*1 He also made everyone laugh. A favorite among the group was the way he’d turn to the Lakers bench and shout, “I’m the best verticality guy in the league,” whenever he stymied a shot at the rim, a reference to a league rule that allows defenders to make contact with shooters near the basket as long as they keep their entire body vertical. “All the players,” one Lakers assistant said, “would crack up.”
*2 Rick Fox being on board turned out to be an unfounded rumor. Gutman later apologized for his inaccurate report that all four of Kobe’s children were on board. ABC News also suspended him.
*3 It’s worth bringing up that a few weeks later the Lakers held a memorial service for Kobe, and all indications are that LeBron was not there. No one saw him in the Staples Center during the event, and, when asked by ESPN’s McMenamin the following day if he had attended the ceremony, LeBron responded, “I respect your question, for sure. It was [a] very emotional, very emotional day, very tough day for myself, for my family, for everyone involved.” In April 2025, Pablo Torre, a podcaster and pundit, reported that he had spoken to eight sources “who are directly familiar with this situation” and that his conclusion was that LeBron had not attended the ceremony. It’s also worth pointing out, though, that it’s unclear why LeBron did not attend and whether staying home was his decision or something he was asked to do by someone connected to Bryant.
- 9 -
Bubble Boys
Even the suggestion offended LeBron. “Play games without the fans?” he asked while standing before a group of reporters. “Nah, that’s impossible.”
It was March 6, 2020, and, after spending the previous three months spreading from China into Europe, Covid-19 had finally reached the United States. The country’s first confirmed case had come seven weeks earlier, but by the time the Lakers took the Staples Center court on this March night, that number had reached the hundreds. Public health officials were stressing the importance of handwashing and social distancing—the latter a term most in the public had never heard—and all indications were that things were about to get worse. Earlier that day, the NBA had sent out a memo instructing teams to begin preparing to play games without fans in the stands, which was the impetus for the question posed to LeBron.
“I ain’t playing if I ain’t got the fans in the crowd,” LeBron added. “That’s who I play for. I play for my teammates, and I play for the fans. That’s what it’s all about. So if I show up to an arena and there ain’t no fans in there, I ain’t playing. They can do what they want to do.”
LeBron wasn’t being callous. It was just that, like most Americans, he was in denial. And understandably so. Ignorance was easier than fear.
Four days later, he walked back his comments. “When I was asked the question of would you play without…fans, I had no idea that there was actually a conversation going on behind closed doors about the particular virus,” LeBron said after a morning practice. A rope marking six feet of distance was placed between him and the small group of reporters present. “Obviously, I would be very disappointed…But, at the same time, you’ve got to listen to the people that’s keeping a track on what’s going on.” Later that night, the Lakers lost by two, but the action on the court felt trivial.
The next day, March 11, the World Health Organization declared the outbreak a global pandemic. That afternoon, NBA team owners met via conference call to discuss how to proceed. Nobody wanted to play games without fans—around 40 percent of the league’s revenue came via game-related items like ticket sales and concessions—but the group also understood that, with the way the virus was spreading, there were few realistic options. A public health order prohibiting large indoor gatherings had already been issued in San Francisco, where the Warriors played. By the end of the call, the owners agreed: No fans was the way to go. The plan was for NBA commissioner Silver to announce the news at some point the next day.
Within hours, that plan had gone up in flames. Jazz center Rudy Gobert had tested positive for the virus minutes before a game against the Thunder, making him the first professional athlete in the country to have a confirmed case. Jazz and Thunder officials hopped on a call with the league office. They decided that both teams would leave the court and isolate themselves in their respective locker rooms, where tests would be administered. Fans in Oklahoma City’s Chesapeake Energy Arena were told to go home. A little over an hour later, the NBA made official what once seemed unfathomable: Following that night’s slate of games, the season would be suspended indefinitely. By the end of the week, nearly every other sports league—along with myriad other businesses, schools, and government organizations—had followed suit.
“Man we cancelling sporting events, school, office work, etc etc. What we really need to cancel is 2020! ,” LeBron tweeted a few hours after the league’s announcement. “Damn it’s been a rough 3 months. God bless and stay safe .”
* * *
• • •
On March 17, four Nets players tested positive. Worried that their team had been exposed to the virus during their matchup the week before, the Lakers organized a conference call. Players were told to self-quarantine for fourteen days.
LeBron spent the stretch holed up in his Brentwood mansion, looking for ways to pass the time. He used his home gym but largely fell into a routine similar to millions of others across the country. He binge-watched shows like Tiger King. He played Uno with his kids. He posted videos of his family on TikTok and drank lots of wine. He scrolled through social media and got stuck on emotion-triggering videos. “DAMN, I really miss sports!!!!! ,” he wrote in a quote-tweet of a video from Major League Baseball’s official account, a two-and-a-half-minute reel of kids reacting to acts of kindness from MLB players and fellow fans.
The NBA’s initial plan was to reevaluate the situation in mid-April, thirty days after the initial suspension of play, but with the virus surging throughout March and killing hundreds of Americans every day, there was nothing much to assess. All the league could do—all anyone could do—was wait and hope.
In the meantime, LeBron and the rest of the league’s players were learning the meaning of the term “force majeure.” French for “force of nature,” the phrase is a provision inserted into most commercial contracts that allows a party to withhold or end its obligations under certain sets of circumstances, like war, terrorism, and natural disasters. They are often described as “acts of God,” events that alter the landscape upon which the original deal had been agreed, and a global pandemic certainly qualified. On conference calls, union leaders informed players that, with the season on hold, teams could soon begin withholding a percentage of salaries. Not only that, but if the season were to be canceled, the league would have the right to invoke force majeure and rip up the collective bargaining agreement.
Things remained in a state of limbo throughout most of April. But by early May, return-to-play scenarios began circulating. Players started hearing about a so-called bubble—though the league office preferred terms like “campus” and “bubble-like environment”—a single location where teams would both live and play and where individuals would be allowed to enter only following a quarantine. Covid tests would be administered daily, and families would be left behind. It wouldn’t make up for the lack of fans at games, but it would allow the NBA to fulfill its media contracts, which represented the majority of its revenue.
After learning about the potential financial ramifications of a canceled season, most players wanted the season to resume. But the bubble concept—especially the idea of being under constant surveillance in an enclosed space—left many uncomfortable. Some also doubted the NBA’s ability to keep them protected from the virus.
“There was some consternation,” Michele Roberts, executive director of the NBPA, said.
To answer players’ questions, Silver and Roberts hosted a conference call. Over the course of an hour, Silver outlined where the league stood financially and what its options were going forward. “The CBA was not built for extended pandemics,” he said. He answered questions about return-to-play scenarios and how the league planned to keep players safe. Four days later, on May 12, the union started polling players’ interest in resuming. The majority said that they were in favor of doing so.
Most crucially, the league’s most important player was on board. “I don’t think I would be able to have any closure if we don’t have the opportunity to finish this season,” LeBron told reporters on a Zoom call in early April. A few weeks later, he was even blunter on Twitter. “Saw some reports about execs and agents wanting to cancel season??? That’s absolutely not true. Nobody I know saying anything like that. As soon as it’s safe we would like to finish our season. I’m ready and our team is ready. Nobody should be canceling anything.” This was welcome news in the league office.
“We all knew that the only way a return-to-play format would work was if he was in,” a league office executive said.
With a restart being discussed, some players began fantasizing about an extended stay in Vegas. “Of course that’s what they wanted,” Roberts said. “But we shut that down.” The league zeroed in on Walt Disney World in Orlando. It had hotels and restaurants and, thanks to the ESPN Wide World of Sports Complex, basketball courts, too. Also, the company had a preexisting relationship with the NBA; its CEO, Bob Iger, was close to both Silver and NBPA president Chris Paul. Talks advanced fast. On May 26, the NBA sent a statement to reporters confirming that it was engaging in “exploratory conversations” with Disney about using its campus.
Covid might have thrown the country into chaos, but a few months into the pandemic, it had become a form of chaos that the league believed it could work around.
What neither the NBA nor anyone else knew was that another form of chaos, one bubbling beneath the surface and rooted in America’s original sin, was about to move to the forefront of the country’s consciousness.
