I'm Not A Basketball Fan

I’m a people fan.

There are certain people that stand out, that make a difference, that leave the world better than they found it, celebrity or not.

I’m not a basketball fan, but the tragic news of Kobe Bryant passing away yesterday hit me right in the feels.

I remember growing up almost every kid had a Kobe Bryant jersey.

I remember him and Shaq playing together.

I remember watching the kids on the streets of Haverhill, Massachusetts yelling “KOBE!” as they took a jump shot.

These kids had never met Kobe, yet he changed their life.

He gave them hope.

These were kids that grew up with nothing (myself included), and while their parents were working (or dealing drugs), they were on the basketball court after school, or at the Boys and Girls Club, idolizing a man.

I know he was a celebrity, but even if you’re not a basketball fan, you have to admire the difference he made.

He also popularized work ethic in sport.

He was often quoted saying “I have nothing in common with lazy people who blame others for their lack of success. Great things come from hard work and perseverance.”

He was notorious for spending all day on his craft, for outworking the other players, for working hard when no one was watching.

He was a celebrity, but he made a difference, he changed lives, and he left the world a better place.

Something I hope to say one day.

But that’s Kobe as a basketball player.

What about Kobe as a dad, a husband, a person?

Scrolling through social media I stumbled across a 30-second YouTube clip of the helicopter spinning out of control, spiraling to the ground before blowing up in flames.

Imagine the terror going through their minds.

We all need moments in our lives that stop us in our tracks, that humble us, that remind us that we’re mortal, and that remind us that life is precious.

Sure, we all agree with that, we all nod our heads, but then the clock keeps ticking, the busy days go by.

Unfortunately, having lost both my parents at a young age, and having worked in nursing homes and hospitals before opening the gym, I’ve had more traumatic experiences than I care to admit.

Although sad, I’m reminded daily about how short life is, and it’s the underlying reason why I’m so driven and work so hard to make a difference, never just punching the clock, because if I go tomorrow, I want my family to know, my community to know, that I made a difference.

As a parent there is nothing more you want than for your kids to be healthy, happy, and safe.

If those three things exist, you’re happy.

I can’t imagine the moment Kobe knew he was going down and he looked over to see his daughter, and he knew she was going to die too, and there is nothing, literally nothing, he could do about it.

Imagine that feeling.

I remember when Ellie was born and we were dealing with her health complications.

I can’t control the outcome, but I could control everything else.

The best doctors, the best treatments, whatever it takes for Ellie to be healthy.

That’s all we want as a parent.

What was apparently a routine trip to a basketball game (a lot of you reading this will be driving your kids to a game tonight) turned tragic, it made the world stop, and last night people went to bed without their loved ones they ate breakfast with that morning.

I don’t write all of this to be morbid.

I write it as a continual reminder for me, for you, for all of us, that life is short.

The petty things we argue about, the fear that stop us from doing things, the grudges we hold, none of it matters.

We’re here for a short time and a good time, control the controllable, move fast but enjoy the moments, be healthy, be happy, and try to leave the world a better place than you found it.

I know Kobe did.

1% Better.

Dedicated To Your Success,

Doug Spurling