Kobe Bryant’s Struggles are Hard to Watch, Even as a Warriors Fan

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Kobe Bryant’s glory days are over, but it is still hard to watch as as a Warriors fan. 

You never like to see legends struggle.

Even if it’s a player who you loved to hate, who regularly destroyed your team every single time, who played for one of your biggest rivals.

As the Golden State Warriors routed the Los Angeles Lakers on Tuesday night en route to their historic 16th straight victory to start the season, I was exuberant at the team achieving the record, but at the same time surprisingly depressed that it came at the expense of Kobe Bryant putting up one of his worst performances in his 20-year career.

Watching Bryant lumber up and down the court, demand the ball, and force up a jump shot — only to brick it — is extremely hard to watch, especially considering a younger Kobe would have made that same jumper and left a younger me wondering “how do you stop this guy”?

Turns out, you don’t really have to stop the 2015 version of Kobe — you just let him stop himself. Despite having a 37-year-old, physically depleted body, Kobe plays like he’s in his glory days. On Tuesday, he still took that patented mid-range fadeaway, which clanked off the rim. He’d come down on the next possession and do it again — same result. Then he’d step back and fire away from three-point range, only to watch it miss the rim entirely. On one jumper, the ball got lodged in between the rim and the basket, the most humiliating moment out of many on the night for Bryant.

November 24, 2015; Oakland, CA, USA; Los Angeles Lakers forward Kobe Bryant (24) shoots the basketball against Golden State Warriors forward Harrison Barnes (40) during the first quarter at Oracle Arena. Mandatory Credit: Kyle Terada-USA TODAY Sports

Bryant’s totals in a 111-77 loss to the Warriors: 4 points on 1-of-14 shooting and 1-of-7 from three-point range. Yes, it was as bad as it sounds.

Arguably his best moment on Tuesday night came in the second quarter, when he alertly stripped Marreese Speights of the ball and pushed it ahead to Lou Williams for a transition layup. Kobe reacted by smirking, with a smug look on his face — almost like he was trying to prove to the world and himself that he was still great. In reality, it epitomized his downfall. A younger Kobe would have never celebrated a steal and an assist; he would have saved that celebration for a clutch shot or a key play late in the game, not with his team down by 20 in the second quarter.

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With every brick and every poor decision, I began to feel more and more sorry for the guy. True, it was just as painful watching the Lakers dominate the Warriors for years, turning Oracle Arena into Staples Center North and dictating the state of basketball in California. No matter what, the Lakers always had an aura of superiority whenever they played the Warriors, mostly because Kobe was the best player in the world and there was no way in hell he was losing to one of those horrendous Golden State teams of the 2000s.

On Tuesday night, the situation was reversed. The Warriors were the superiors, Stephen Curry was the new Kobe Bryant, and the Warriors barely had to try against a Lakers team that may be actually be worse than any of those same Warriors teams that Bryant regularly dominated. It should have felt amazing, but instead, Bryant’s performance messed with my feelings.

Afterwards, Kobe said this to reporters:

"“My shooting will be better. I could’ve scored 80 tonight. It wouldn’t have made a damn difference. We just have bigger problems. I could be out there averaging 35 points a game. We’d be what, 3-11? We’ve got to figure out how to play systematically in a position that’s going to keep us in ball games.”"

The issue is not the system — it’s Bryant himself. At this juncture, Bryant is doing more to hurt than help the Lakers, and as much as I’d like to relish in the Lakers struggling, it hurts to see an active legend take such a hard fall, especially toward the end of his career.

As a kid playing hoops in my backyard, I remember I’d pretend to be Kobe, trying to imitate his moves and simulating late-game scenarios where I (Kobe) hit a miraculous game-winner as the crowd went crazy. Even growing up a Warriors fan, that’s the kind of respect I had — and still have — for Bryant, and I’m sure others in my generation feel the same way.

Recency effect can have quite an unfortunate influence, and I hope we all remember Kobe Bryant during greener pastures rather than this pathetic, pitiful end to a Hall-of-Fame career.