http://www.latimes.com/features/printedition/magazine/la-tm-kobe44oct31,0,49
25903.story?coll=la-home-magazine
Not long ago, Kobe Bryant was the city's favorite fresh-faced kid.
That person is gone. He is 26 now, an eight-year survivor of a
grueling sport who has avoided an ugly trial-but not its unseemly
revelations.
"What happened to Kobe," says one of the few people with any claim on
being close to him, "is exactly what you would hope would never
happen. He's hardened. More closed. Cynical."
Knowing what we now know, should we root for him?
Go back to 1996. Bryant joins the Los Angeles Lakers just shy of his
18th birthday. He's reserved, reticent; there's no outward sign of
his awesomely competitive nature. He is obsessed with basketball,
which gives him a world he can both prevail in and retreat from.
Since he was 3, the game has been his sole companion. In his early
teens he's made it therapy-substitute. When his temper threatens to
derail his ambitions, he doesn't want to examine it. Instead he
channels his temper into basketball, an efficient solution that will
give his game the edge it needs and a terse combative subtext: Don't
Mess With Me.
By the time Bryant becomes a Laker, he knows a lot about basketball
and little about himself.
Because the game is the one and only thing that compels his interest,
he hands everything else to his father. Joe Bryant is an eight-year
NBA veteran, once a flashy forward for Dr. J's Philadelphia 76ers.
Joe Bryant knows the drill, has things figured out. When a reporter
asks him how Kobe will deal with his first NBA road trip, he has a
ready answer: "These other guys on the team will be going to clubs.
Kobe will go back to his hotel and read a book or play Nintendo."
"These other guys"-it's the buzz phrase that turns up in Kobe's
conversation more, perhaps, than is necessary. "I'm not like those
other guys," he will say in his rookie year. It's not an observation.
It's a moral judgment that equates being different with being better.
Other guys have attitude, Bryant has manners. He's deferential,
addresses his elders as Mister, takes on community work for the Laker
organization.
He's not, like other recent NBA inductees, an unvarnished son of
hip-hop culture and the welfare system. He's a scion of the
upper-middle class, bringing intimations of Armani to the more
emphatic bling-bling. Nor do the NBA's familiar spoils and
shibboleths interest him: the diamond stud earrings, the tattoos, the
white gold pendants and crosses. On the road, while his teammates hit
the bars, he's in his room alone, writing poetry.
Throughout the Laker organization, Bryant becomes known as the ideal
rookie, an example of pure, old-fashioned Boy Scout values in a
league fixated on the material-with its "mine-is-bigger-than-yours"
ethic and cautionary tales of the corrosive effects of the wealth,
renown and adoration that young players come seeking. The Lakers'
director of public relations, John Black, knows all too well what
happens. Kids come to the league, good kids, and within a few years
they are undermined by too much money and too many fawning acolytes.
Black worries about Bryant, often thinking, "Don't let this kid
change."
But he changes. How could he not? He's 21 years old when he becomes
engaged to Vanessa Laine. She's 18, lushly beautiful, more attuned to
the world than he. Soon she becomes what his father has been: his
link to the world. Within a few years, he's sporting an outsized
diamond stud on his left earlobe and showing up at games in a
floor-length fur coat. Because of Vanessa, he's more at ease with
himself. More open.
If Bryant's life were a movie, this is where we'd fade out on the
chaste, dreamy boy writing poetry in his hotel room and fade in on
him five years later. He's now a man, a product of the NBA and of his
own imperatives. As such, he might use a hotel room for less than a
poetic venture.
Every man has three lives: public, private and secret. Public life
concerns itself with what you give, private life with what you get.
The concern of secret life is what you crave.

http://www.latimes.com/features/printedition/magazine/la-tm-kobe44oct31,0,49
25903.story?coll=la-home-magazine
Not long ago, Kobe Bryant was the city's favorite fresh-faced kid. That
person is gone. He is 26 now, an eight-year survivor of a grueling sport who
has avoided an ugly trial-but not its unseemly revelations.
"What happened to Kobe," says one of the few people with any claim on being
close to him, "is exactly what you would hope would never happen. He's
hardened. More closed. Cynical."
Knowing what we now know, should we root for him?
Go back to 1996. Bryant joins the Los Angeles Lakers just shy of his 18th
birthday. He's reserved, reticent; there's no outward sign of his awesomely
competitive nature. He is obsessed with basketball, which gives him a world
he can both prevail in and retreat from. Since he was 3, the game has been
his sole companion. In his early teens he's made it therapy-substitute. When
his temper threatens to derail his ambitions, he doesn't want to examine it.
Instead he channels his temper into basketball, an efficient solution that
will give his game the edge it needs and a terse combative subtext: Don't
Mess With Me.
By the time Bryant becomes a Laker, he knows a lot about basketball and
little about himself.
Because the game is the one and only thing that compels his interest, he
hands everything else to his father. Joe Bryant is an eight-year NBA
veteran, once a flashy forward for Dr. J's Philadelphia 76ers. Joe Bryant
knows the drill, has things figured out. When a reporter asks him how Kobe
will deal with his first NBA road trip, he has a ready answer: "These other
guys on the team will be going to clubs. Kobe will go back to his hotel and
read a book or play Nintendo."
"These other guys"-it's the buzz phrase that turns up in Kobe's conversation
more, perhaps, than is necessary. "I'm not like those other guys," he will
say in his rookie year. It's not an observation. It's a moral judgment that
equates being different with being better.
Other guys have attitude, Bryant has manners. He's deferential, addresses
his elders as Mister, takes on community work for the Laker organization.
He's not, like other recent NBA inductees, an unvarnished son of hip-hop
culture and the welfare system. He's a scion of the upper-middle class,
bringing intimations of Armani to the more emphatic bling-bling. Nor do the
NBA's familiar spoils and shibboleths interest him: the diamond stud
earrings, the tattoos, the white gold pendants and crosses. On the road,
while his teammates hit the bars, he's in his room alone, writing poetry.
Throughout the Laker organization, Bryant becomes known as the ideal rookie,
an example of pure, old-fashioned Boy Scout values in a league fixated on
the material-with its "mine-is-bigger-than-yours" ethic and cautionary tales
of the corrosive effects of the wealth, renown and adoration that young
players come seeking. The Lakers' director of public relations, John Black,
knows all too well what happens. Kids come to the league, good kids, and
within a few years they are undermined by too much money and too many
fawning acolytes. Black worries about Bryant, often thinking, "Don't let
this kid change."
But he changes. How could he not? He's 21 years old when he becomes engaged
to Vanessa Laine. She's 18, lushly beautiful, more attuned to the world than
he. Soon she becomes what his father has been: his link to the world. Within
a few years, he's sporting an outsized diamond stud on his left earlobe and
showing up at games in a floor-length fur coat. Because of Vanessa, he's
more at ease with himself. More open.
If Bryant's life were a movie, this is where we'd fade out on the chaste,
dreamy boy writing poetry in his hotel room and fade in on him five years
later. He's now a man, a product of the NBA and of his own imperatives. As
such, he might use a hotel room for less than a poetic venture.
Every man has three lives: public, private and secret. Public life concerns
itself with what you give, private life with what you get. The concern of
secret life is what you crave.

http://www.latimes.com/features/printedition/magazine/la-tm-kobe44oct31,0,49
25903.story?coll=la-home-magazine
Not long ago, Kobe Bryant was the city's favorite fresh-faced kid. That
person is gone. He is 26 now, an eight-year survivor of a grueling sport who
has avoided an ugly trial-but not its unseemly revelations.
"What happened to Kobe," says one of the few people with any claim on being
close to him, "is exactly what you would hope would never happen. He's
hardened. More closed. Cynical."
Knowing what we now know, should we root for him?
Go back to 1996. Bryant joins the Los Angeles Lakers just shy of his 18th
birthday. He's reserved, reticent; there's no outward sign of his awesomely
competitive nature. He is obsessed with basketball, which gives him a world
he can both prevail in and retreat from. Since he was 3, the game has been
his sole companion. In his early teens he's made it therapy-substitute. When
his temper threatens to derail his ambitions, he doesn't want to examine it.
Instead he channels his temper into basketball, an efficient solution that
will give his game the edge it needs and a terse combative subtext: Don't
Mess With Me.
By the time Bryant becomes a Laker, he knows a lot about basketball and
little about himself.
Because the game is the one and only thing that compels his interest, he
hands everything else to his father. Joe Bryant is an eight-year NBA
veteran, once a flashy forward for Dr. J's Philadelphia 76ers. Joe Bryant
knows the drill, has things figured out. When a reporter asks him how Kobe
will deal with his first NBA road trip, he has a ready answer: "These other
guys on the team will be going to clubs. Kobe will go back to his hotel and
read a book or play Nintendo."
"These other guys"-it's the buzz phrase that turns up in Kobe's conversation
more, perhaps, than is necessary. "I'm not like those other guys," he will
say in his rookie year. It's not an observation. It's a moral judgment that
equates being different with being better.
Other guys have attitude, Bryant has manners. He's deferential, addresses
his elders as Mister, takes on community work for the Laker organization.
He's not, like other recent NBA inductees, an unvarnished son of hip-hop
culture and the welfare system. He's a scion of the upper-middle class,
bringing intimations of Armani to the more emphatic bling-bling. Nor do the
NBA's familiar spoils and shibboleths interest him: the diamond stud
earrings, the tattoos, the white gold pendants and crosses. On the road,
while his teammates hit the bars, he's in his room alone, writing poetry.
Throughout the Laker organization, Bryant becomes known as the ideal rookie,
an example of pure, old-fashioned Boy Scout values in a league fixated on
the material-with its "mine-is-bigger-than-yours" ethic and cautionary tales
of the corrosive effects of the wealth, renown and adoration that young
players come seeking. The Lakers' director of public relations, John Black,
knows all too well what happens. Kids come to the league, good kids, and
within a few years they are undermined by too much money and too many
fawning acolytes. Black worries about Bryant, often thinking, "Don't let
this kid change."
But he changes. How could he not? He's 21 years old when he becomes engaged
to Vanessa Laine. She's 18, lushly beautiful, more attuned to the world than
he. Soon she becomes what his father has been: his link to the world. Within
a few years, he's sporting an outsized diamond stud on his left earlobe and
showing up at games in a floor-length fur coat. Because of Vanessa, he's
more at ease with himself. More open.
If Bryant's life were a movie, this is where we'd fade out on the chaste,
dreamy boy writing poetry in his hotel room and fade in on him five years
later. He's now a man, a product of the NBA and of his own imperatives. As
such, he might use a hotel room for less than a poetic venture.
Every man has three lives: public, private and secret. Public life concerns
itself with what you give, private life with what you get. The concern of
secret life is what you crave.

Outstanding article. Particularly, she hits it square on the mark when
she says that, at least to a degree, an enormous ego is part and parcel of
being a great basketball player (or artist or performer, etc). NOBODY
becomes great at what they do without an enormous ego, and without a
healthy dose of selfishness.

http://www.latimes.com/features/printedition/magazine/la-tm-kobe44oct31,0,49
25903.story?coll=la-home-magazine
Not long ago, Kobe Bryant was the city's favorite fresh-faced kid. That
person is gone. He is 26 now, an eight-year survivor of a grueling sport who
has avoided an ugly trial-but not its unseemly revelations.
"What happened to Kobe," says one of the few people with any claim on being
close to him, "is exactly what you would hope would never happen. He's
hardened. More closed. Cynical."
Knowing what we now know, should we root for him?
Go back to 1996. Bryant joins the Los Angeles Lakers just shy of his 18th
birthday. He's reserved, reticent; there's no outward sign of his awesomely
competitive nature. He is obsessed with basketball, which gives him a world
he can both prevail in and retreat from. Since he was 3, the game has been
his sole companion. In his early teens he's made it therapy-substitute. When
his temper threatens to derail his ambitions, he doesn't want to examine it.
Instead he channels his temper into basketball, an efficient solution that
will give his game the edge it needs and a terse combative subtext: Don't
Mess With Me.
By the time Bryant becomes a Laker, he knows a lot about basketball and
little about himself.
Because the game is the one and only thing that compels his interest, he
hands everything else to his father. Joe Bryant is an eight-year NBA
veteran, once a flashy forward for Dr. J's Philadelphia 76ers. Joe Bryant
knows the drill, has things figured out. When a reporter asks him how Kobe
will deal with his first NBA road trip, he has a ready answer: "These other
guys on the team will be going to clubs. Kobe will go back to his hotel and
read a book or play Nintendo."
"These other guys"-it's the buzz phrase that turns up in Kobe's conversation
more, perhaps, than is necessary. "I'm not like those other guys," he will
say in his rookie year. It's not an observation. It's a moral judgment that
equates being different with being better.
Other guys have attitude, Bryant has manners. He's deferential, addresses
his elders as Mister, takes on community work for the Laker organization.
He's not, like other recent NBA inductees, an unvarnished son of hip-hop
culture and the welfare system. He's a scion of the upper-middle class,
bringing intimations of Armani to the more emphatic bling-bling. Nor do the
NBA's familiar spoils and shibboleths interest him: the diamond stud
earrings, the tattoos, the white gold pendants and crosses. On the road,
while his teammates hit the bars, he's in his room alone, writing poetry.
Throughout the Laker organization, Bryant becomes known as the ideal rookie,
an example of pure, old-fashioned Boy Scout values in a league fixated on
the material-with its "mine-is-bigger-than-yours" ethic and cautionary tales
of the corrosive effects of the wealth, renown and adoration that young
players come seeking. The Lakers' director of public relations, John Black,
knows all too well what happens. Kids come to the league, good kids, and
within a few years they are undermined by too much money and too many
fawning acolytes. Black worries about Bryant, often thinking, "Don't let
this kid change."
But he changes. How could he not? He's 21 years old when he becomes engaged
to Vanessa Laine. She's 18, lushly beautiful, more attuned to the world than
he. Soon she becomes what his father has been: his link to the world. Within
a few years, he's sporting an outsized diamond stud on his left earlobe and
showing up at games in a floor-length fur coat. Because of Vanessa, he's
more at ease with himself. More open.
If Bryant's life were a movie, this is where we'd fade out on the chaste,
dreamy boy writing poetry in his hotel room and fade in on him five years
later. He's now a man, a product of the NBA and of his own imperatives. As
such, he might use a hotel room for less than a poetic venture.
Every man has three lives: public, private and secret. Public life concerns
itself with what you give, private life with what you get. The concern of
secret life is what you crave.

Everyone conviently forgets the young woman he was engaged to prior to
Vanessa, the young woman who found out about his new engagement in the
paper after she had received a commitment from him less than a week
before his official engagement was announced. Kobe is getting exactly
what he deserves. Let's see how the Lakers do this year now that he's
got his own team to lead and no one to blame.

Nikita <arinaanna@yahoo.com> wrote in message
news:1380b7fe.0410311113.11cc3fbb@posting.google.com...
He wasn't engaged with anybody. The woman you are referring to wasn't even
living in the same state as Kobe. She was in Philly while Kobe was in LA.
She may have thought they were still together but obviously not especially
when they were living in seperate states.

In article <cm3dqo$ckl@dispatch.concentric.net>,
Don Tiberone <DonTiberoneNOSPAM@SKP.net> wrote:
I'll bet you think one of these days Kobe's going to call you up and
say thanks for your help man, let's have lunch.

In article <cm3dqo$ckl@dispatch.concentric.net>,
Don Tiberone <DonTiberoneNOSPAM@SKP.net> wrote:
I'll bet you think one of these days Kobe's going to call you up and
say thanks for your help man, let's have lunch.

In article <cm3ojc$829@rac1.wam.umd.edu>
tjab@wam.umd.edu (tjab) wrote:
Does this mean that you and chas expect a call or a check from the skank

Just like Robin Givens changed Mike Tyson when they got married!

In article <2esao0pme98m8okp0dt98jh0nh3ob0ueqq@4ax.com>,
Sports Fan <sports@fan.home> wrote:
Skank?

You mean Kobe?

when some money comes her way?
Looks like you think that the rest of the world is as you, no morals or
principles, only money or attention matters to you and your likes.

Skank? You mean Kobe?

an enormous ego is part and parcel of being a great basketball player

henry3884@msn.com (Henry Tedden) wrote in message news:<41848eb1.110356250@news.compuserve.com>...
Or Nicole Brown with OJ Simpson!

"tjab" <tjab@wam.umd.edu> wrote
Does this mean that you and chas expect a call or a check from the skank
Nah; Kobe runs a tab with his mom- just picking up the light work.]

"s_knight8" <s_knight8nospam@hotmail.com> wrote in message news:<cm0ibh$n5j@dispatch.concentric.net>...
Everyone conviently forgets the young woman he was engaged to prior to
Vanessa, the young woman who found out about his new engagement in the
paper after she had received a commitment from him less than a week
before his official engagement was announced. Kobe is getting exactly
what he deserves. Let's see how the Lakers do this year now that he's
got his own team to lead and no one to blame.

"tjab" <tjab@wam.umd.edu> wrote
Does this mean that you and chas expect a call or a check from the skank
Nah; Kobe runs a tab with his mom- just picking up the light work.]

In article <2esao0pme98m8okp0dt98jh0nh3ob0ueqq@4ax.com>,
Sports Fan <sports@fan.home> wrote:
Skank? You mean Kobe?

tjab@wam.umd.edu (tjab) wrote in message news:<cm4c25$6ve@rac1.wam.umd.edu>...
No, Tjab, Skanks are refer to accusers who lied under oath. In this
case, it is obviously referred to Katyln Faber, the SKANK that can't
testify for justice in a criminal court but surely can testify for
money in a civil court.

In article <2esao0pme98m8okp0dt98jh0nh3ob0ueqq@4ax.com>,
Sports Fan <sports@fan.home> wrote:
Skank? You mean Kobe?

In article <cm3ojc$829@rac1.wam.umd.edu>
tjab@wam.umd.edu (tjab) wrote:
Does this mean that you and chas expect a call or a check from the skank
when some money comes her way?
Looks like you think that the rest of the world is as you, no morals or
principles, only money or attention matters to you and your likes.

tjab@wam.umd.edu (tjab) wrote in message news:<cm4c25$6ve@rac1.wam.umd.edu>...
Good one tjab!

Chas wrote:
So bitter.

http://www.latimes.com/features/printedition/magazine/la-tm-kobe44oct31,0,49
25903.story?coll=la-home-magazine
Not long ago, Kobe Bryant was the city's favorite fresh-faced kid. That
person is gone. He is 26 now, an eight-year survivor of a grueling sport who
has avoided an ugly trial-but not its unseemly revelations.

and so retarded. Bitter and retarded, what a combination.

"Pauli G" <rioroad@hotmail.com> wrote
Does this mean that you and chas expect a call or a check from the
skank
Skank? You mean Kobe?
Nah; Kobe runs a tab with his mom- just picking up the light work.]
So bitter.and so retarded. Bitter and retarded, what a combination.
Bitter, retarded, and doing yer little sister must really hurt.
Chas

X-No-archive: yes
In article <UK2dnVtdvuWdIBvcRVn-tg@comcast.com>, Chas
<chasclementsSPOOF@comcast.net> wrote:
Big sister. How do you think they learn things in that family?
I was at a Lakers game a few seats away from Vanessa a couple of weeks
ago. The women near me would not shut up about the size of the rock on
her hand - you know, the $4,000,000 one she got after his rather
expensive "indiscretion"?
You gotta pay for it one way or another...

"Skipper" <skipspamless@charter.net> wrote in message
news:011120041514573828%skipspamless@charter.net...
I can't imagine wearing a rock on my hand to signify/memorialize my
husbands screwing some girl in a hotel room. I have many pieces of
jewelry, some quite nice, and when someone ask's I say "for our 25th
anniversary" "for Valentines Day 2 years ago," "for christmas last
year". None "because my hubby screwed some hotel employee". ;>

In article <4b8fa98.0411010410.4b521e2b@posting.google.com>,
Huang Gang <kongwong_no_sp_am@hotmail.com> wrote:
Oh, ok, I thought maybe you meant the skank who cheated on his
wife without protection with someone he'd met about ten minutes
earlier.

I can't imagine wearing a rock on my hand to signify/memorialize my
husbands
screwing some girl in a hotel room.