A lovely little vignette about sitting next to Kobe on a plane:
Kobe Bryant and I spent a flight together in 1999
Cover baseball long enough and you’re sure to have some stories. I have my fair share. I covered the riots in Los Angeles in 1992 because they started in the middle of a series between the Phillies and Dodgers. You remember something like that forever.
I was in the air on my way to Atlanta the morning of Sept. 11, 2001 because the Phillies were about to open a vital series with the Braves that night. By the time we landed, it did not seem nearly as vital.
In between those two mega-news events was another unforgettable occurrence in my beat-covering career. On June 20, 1999, I finished covering a six-game West Coast trip that had taken the Phillies to San Diego and Los Angeles. The Phillies had lost, 3-2, to Kevin Brown and the Dodgers on a Sunday afternoon to finish their trip 3-3, and I had a red-eye flight home that night to Philadelphia.
As I waited at the gate for boarding, I noticed that Kobe Bryant was going to be on the flight, too.
In those days, if you were a frequent flier, it was not uncommon to get first-class upgrades and I was fortunate enough to have one for the cross-country flight from Los Angeles to Philadelphia. Unsurprisingly, Kobe had a first-class seat, too.
The surprise came when I realized I was seated next to Bryant, who was already an NBA star at the age of 20. Kobe had the window. I had the aisle. We also had something in common. We both wanted to go to sleep as most passengers do on a red-eye flight. Kobe covered his ears with his state-of-the-art headphones, and I put in my earbuds. We both fell asleep before the flight left the ground.
At that point, we had not spoken a word. Kobe, as it turned out, would initiate our first conversation. As we ascended, I awakened to a tap on the shoulder.
“Could I get out please to go to the restroom?” Kobe asked.
“Sure,” I said. “Normally they make you wait to we level off, but I don’t think the flight attendants will say anything to you.”
They didn’t. Kobe went to the bathroom and returned to his seat, and we both went back to sleep until we were about 20 minutes outside of Philadelphia International Airport. The sun was rising and a few of the flight attendants politely asked Kobe for his autograph. He happily obliged.
That was my opportunity to start a conversation. I broke the ice.
“You must love seeing the picturesque oil tanks every time you return to Philadelphia,” I said.
Kobe smiled.
"You know what, there’s no place in the world I would have rather grown up than Philadelphia,” he said.
What a wonderful answer, I thought.
I kept the conversation going by asking Kobe who he thought would win the NBA championship. The Spurs, who had eliminated Kobe’s Lakers in a four-game sweep, were playing the Knicks, who had reached the Finals despite being a No. 8 seed.
“It’s the Spurs’ year," Kobe said.
He was right. It was San Antonio’s first of five titles.
Four days earlier, the Lakers had hired Phil Jackson as their head coach.
“Did you meet Phil yet,” I asked.
“Yes,” Kobe said.
“What do you think?" I followed up.
“We are going to win championships with him as our coach,” Kobe said.
He was right again. The Lakers won it all the very next year against the Pacers. And the year after that against the 76ers. And the year after that against the Nets. By the time he was done, Kobe had five championship rings.
I was so impressed with the manner in which Bryant had handled himself during our brief encounter that I did something I never do. I asked him for his autograph, and he signed my boarding pass. I lost that piece of paper long ago, and like everyone else, I was shocked Sunday when the world lost Kobe Bryant, his amazing teenage daughter, and seven other people aboard the helicopter that crashed in Southern California.
At the time of our flight together, Kobe Bryant was still two months removed from his 21st birthday, but it was already clear how special he was going to become.