Címke: basketball family

  • A World Without Kobe

    A World Without Kobe

    Budapest, January 28, 2020

    For three days, I have been quiet.

    I have been trying to accept something I know will not be easy to accept — something that makes me feel as if I will never be entirely whole again.

    A part of me had already died when Kobe stopped playing and we knew there was no way back.

    For our family, basketball has never been simply a pastime.

    It has become one of the central themes of our everyday lives.

    Because of that, we do not have to search for the people and things that complete our lives. Somehow, we are naturally drawn toward them.

    Toward what makes life more beautiful.

    Toward what makes us better.

    We found that in the game — and in the sacrifice and work required to pursue it.

    From Jordan to Kobe

    Michael Jordan developed as a player in a way that established a standard for all time.

    Eventually, that era had to end.

    That is the natural order of things.

    But fortunately, Kobe was there.

    In many ways, he continued from exactly where the very best had stopped.

    With Kobe, we were able to experience that same process of development again.

    And as technology advanced, he somehow became increasingly close to us.

    Without exaggeration, Kobe gradually became part of our everyday lives almost like a member of the family.

    At practice, we would often mention both Jordan and Kobe.

    Certain movements were measured against them.

    Certain standards were explained through them.

    The benchmark they established for basketball players around the world became part of our own thinking as well.

    They are always somewhere in our minds.

    Perfection.

    Humility.

    The desire to win.

    Persistence.

    Passion.

    These values made what they represented impossible to ignore.

    Only One Day Earlier

    On January 25, we watched Jordan’s press conference in Paris live.

    Then we watched Kobe embrace LeBron after LeBron had passed him on the all-time scoring list.

    A thought crossed my mind:

    how fortunate I was to have seen them play.

    To have experienced their greatness.

    A greatness that still permeates basketball and the lives of athletes around the world.

    On Friday, before leaving home, I walked over to the bookshelf and pulled out The Mamba Mentality for a moment.

    I even ran my hand across the cover.

    It is a beautiful edition, slightly embossed so that you can almost feel the book rather than simply read it.

    Then I checked the latest news on my phone.

    And of course, among the first things I saw were Kobe and several new videos and posts about him.

    Two days later, while travelling, we received the incomprehensible news.

    At first, we simply hoped it was not true.

    Then confirmation began arriving minute by minute.

    And with every new confirmation came more tears.

    Even now, I cannot stop them.

    That is what his absence means.

    Pain.

    As if someone from the family had gone.

    More Than a Player

    I know we had not seen him on the court for some time.

    But he had created a world beyond playing basketball — a world that continued to reinforce what we ourselves believe in and live for.

    We all learn.

    We mature.

    We search for ways to contribute something meaningful to our existence.

    Perhaps nowhere more than in sport do we find individuals who can provide examples that people genuinely try to follow.

    There are athletes we support.

    There are others with whom we identify.

    And there are some to whom, in a figurative sense, we feel that we somehow belong.

    Not everyone will completely understand what Kobe represented.

    Perhaps you have to try walking some distance along the path he showed us before you can truly understand it.

    We cannot see everything about another person’s life.

    And even if we could, perhaps we would not find perfection.

    But what Kobe represented week after week was not hypocrisy or empty talk.

    It was a direction.

    Something that has to be understood as a whole.

    Away from the Court

    That is why it was such a gift to see that the person we watched on the court also existed beyond it.

    A father who adored his children.

    Perhaps it could not have been any other way.

    That was who he was.

    Sport had taught him how to love.

    And then there was that little girl who had been beside him so often during those final months.

    She had almost become familiar to us too.

    There are no words for the pain of losing her.

    I almost feel it myself.

    For two days, I have been watching the videos and feeling that something inside me has broken because of her as well.

    The Void

    We have already lost many people from the basketball community.

    For many of them, we have said that they left too soon.

    Unexpectedly.

    Inexplicably.

    And those of us who remain are left with our questions and our feelings.

    The loss of Kobe leaves a global emptiness.

    Everyone who knew what he represented will carry some trace of it for the rest of their lives.

    At the same time, that loss connects us.

    He helped create a shared language.

    A language with words that will continue to represent permanence.

    And with signs, gestures and movements that will continue to mean the same things.

    It feels good to belong to the people who understand what I mean.

    What Remains

    I hope the values that became part of our shared knowledge through the Kobe legend will now show even more young people a direction.

    I am deeply grateful that Kobe meant the same thing to my children and to the people around me.

    His death has created a new meaning for us as well.

    From now on, we will finish every practice by shouting his name.

    Because that name contains almost everything for which we play basketball.

    And because:

    “…those who are remembered through their deeds become immortal.”

    That is not the only thing we can do with the legacy he left behind.

    But perhaps even this small ritual can help us continue something of what Kobe Bryant represented to the world.

    A world in which we now have to learn to live without him.

    And slowly, very slowly, the tears will begin to dry.

    Dr. Ágoston Nagy
    Budapest, January 28, 2020

  • Whole Again

    Whole Again

    Posted on December 18, 2013

    My life entered another dimension in the summer of 2005, when I first met my new team: a group of boys born in 1991 who had just moved from the U14 level into the cadet age group.

    Together with my friend, B., I arrived at every practice excited.

    The players seemed almost hungry for knowledge, while every day brought adventures worthy of a novel — stories that affected them and therefore us as well, and which we still remember and talk about today.

    We went through a great deal together.

    Whatever happened, we somehow always managed to move forward and achieve something from the goals we had set.

    Because of them, our profession as youth coaches gained real meaning.

    Whenever we were close to questioning whether we were on the right path, those dozen or so mischievous boys with shining eyes were standing in front of us.

    They wanted to play.

    And they wanted to win.

    Nobody Missed Practice

    At the time, I did not keep an attendance sheet.

    There was no need.

    Nobody was absent.

    I can barely remember anyone being late either.

    One of the players travelled from Hajdúböszörmény, sometimes leaving home in the early hours of the morning and returning only after the evening practice.

    To this day, I do not completely understand how he managed to prepare for school the next day and still achieve excellent academic results.

    One thing is certain:

    he was among the leaders and became an example for all of us — and for the generations that followed.

    A Team Full of Stories

    We had ordinary weekdays and special game days.

    At times, we competed successfully in several championships simultaneously.

    We had injured players.

    We had players who struggled academically but eventually found their way in their studies.

    We had a bronze-medal hero who produced one final unforgettable performance against an opponent.

    We had a national-team player who travelled across Europe with the country’s best, later lost his way after leaving his original environment, and eventually found another place to continue his journey.

    We had an eternal scoring talent who probably should have been playing somewhere in a European league, but remained stuck at a level from which perhaps even today someone should grab him and sound the alarm.

    Several of these mischievous friends used to organise weekends together at their parents’ homes simply so that the teammates who had become almost inseparable could spend even more time together.

    One proudly stepped forward to lead the team during difficult times and introduced himself to the opposition as the happiest twelfth man in basketball.

    Another devoured life — and girls — before making his way to the University of Technology, where perhaps he slowed down a little. But he knows his own story.

    There were quiet madmen.

    There was also our sharp-eared inventor of words, who eventually became a referee while continuing to play excellent basketball as a lightning-fast ball magician.

    These boys have now become men.

    They are approaching graduation.

    And they have already made history.

    They were not only some of the defining figures of the golden era of DSI, but were also part of the group with which DEAC, founded in 1919, reached the first division for the first time in its history.

    And they still love basketball.

    Despite their problems and injuries, practice and competition remain in their minds and in their hearts.

    The Engine

    Among them was B.

    From the very beginning, he was the engine.

    He represented the style, the fighting spirit, the momentum and the irresistible passion that were essential to winning.

    We believed we could beat anyone.

    We prepared all day to find ways to succeed.

    We learned how to come back from behind, even when everyone else had already given up on us.

    And the engine grew.

    He became stronger.

    Eventually, B. became one of the leaders of the DEAC team that stepped onto the court for its first-ever NB I championship game.

    In the first quarter alone, he recorded a double-double.

    Then, when we least expected it, everything changed.

    In the ninth minute, after stealing the ball, he was hit from behind.

    Weeks later, it became certain that he had torn his anterior cruciate ligament.

    The First Return

    After an enormous amount of work and rehabilitation, B. returned one year later.

    He came back physically stronger, hungry to play and ready for competition.

    He immediately brought tremendous energy to the team.

    With him, it seemed possible to move to another level again.

    Then, in the final game of December, away from home, he was kicked from the side directly in the operated knee.

    The reconstructed ligament could not withstand it.

    And the familiar nightmare began again.

    But the world did not stop.

    With even greater determination — almost as if driven by pure defiance — B. decided to prove that there was a way back.

    Another year of work followed.

    Gradually, he returned first to specialised training and then eventually to basketball.

    Again

    When all of us finally believed that everything was right again, another unbelievable trauma struck.

    In Veszprém, it happened once more.

    B. was almost impossible to contain.

    He was incredibly quick.

    During a drive to the basket, he was pushed while in the air and crashed painfully to the floor.

    By the time I reached him, tears were already falling.

    He knew something was wrong.

    May 2013.

    Another chapter began.

    December 16, 2013

    On December 16, 2013, we wrote another chapter in this story.

    B.’s knee was repaired again.

    And the healing process began.

    For an injured athlete, surgery can represent a strange turning point.

    Until that moment, everything is uncertainty.

    Waiting.

    Delays.

    Questions.

    After the operation, the direction finally changes.

    Now the focus is no longer on waiting.

    It is on returning.

    On rehabilitation.

    On work.

    On moving forward.

    Because B.’s basketball and his role within the team are a little like basketball itself.

    You can live without it.

    But why would you want to?

    B.

    We are waiting for you.

    And we will not leave you alone.