Sure I've got a big "to-do" list today and appointments at the hospital. Sure I'm off to a late start. But if I don't get my espn.com hit early, I begin getting nervous, shaky, and cranky. I limited myself to just a glance this morning and it made me pause in gratitude. On the front page was a picture of Kobe giving a high-five to Odom. He has a menacing stare, like an arrow bearing down on its target. And you see...passion. Passion! It seems in recent years NBA talk has dwindled down to:
"They are thugs, self-centered, and selfish."
"They don't care about winning, just the money."
"They don't play team ball."
But this morning that picture of Kobe took me back to 1992-1993, a year during one of the glory decades of the NBA. A year when every other house in Phoenix had a "Suns fan yes I am"
sign on their window and car. A year when passion dominated the game. A year when I cried after the Suns lost in triple overtime to Jordan's Bulls in the Finals. It was tragic. I still remember the feel of Grandpa and Grandma Budge's thick brown carpet as I rolled on the floor in agony. As a 10 year old I could feel and see the pain in Barkley, Majerle, Ainge, and Johnson's faces. I wanted to throw a dart at Pippen, Jordan, and Longley. Passion.
Kobe, this morning, you rock, and you are rocking more and more as the years go by.