Vanessa is leaving Kobe. One might ask - what took her so long? To all the gents lamenting Kobe's pocketbook, fear not. He'll live to ball hog another day. He'll be groping new asses any second now. I, for one, was never a Kobe fan. Let me reset my post on why (from June 2010):
In honor of the NBA Finals, here's my obligatory basketball post. I'm a football girl and the best thing about these Finals is that we're that much closer to NFL season. That being said, let me get to the point: I don't care for Kobe, not one bit.
I had the temerity to express my dislike of Kobe "Black Mamba Thinks the Sun Rises and Sets on My Hindparts" Bryant on Twitter and was lambasted and called a hater. Pardon me… it's not hate if you have LEGIT reasons for your dislike. Well now you have done it. Forced me to dig back into my bag of "High-Rollin' BougieTales". Back in my "high-rollin' days", I jetsetted about with a variety of entertaining sports and celeb type folks. Mostly good times but a few… not so much.
First let me say that yes, he is a supremely talented basketball player. One you have to consider in the pantheon of "GOAT" (Greatest Of All Time) nominees. On that we can agree. But guess what? Being a talented (even brilliant) athlete does not equate to being a pleasingly pleasant person. I'm sure there are people who have met Kobe and enjoyed the experience. I'm not in that number. Allow me to present my evidence (sort of, some things I have promised to take to the grave):
The Case of the Mother's Day Mishap: At the time, I lived in Marina del Rey and BougieMom came out to visit. I had planned a wonderful Mother's Day Weekend for her including Sunday dinner at a chi-chi frou-frou restaurant in Santa Monica. Fifteen minutes prior to our reserved dining time we showed up, valet parked, and greeted the hostess. The place was packed. She double-checked our reservation, told us they were prepping our table and asked us to step to the side for five minutes. So far, so good. Very shortly thereafter, a flurry of activity broke off near the entrance. Enter Sir Kobe with entourage of at least ten peeps. Master Bryant wanted a table immediately. Flustered hostess naïvely asked if he perchance had a reservation. Silence.
The look on his face said it all. He was Kobe Bryant. This was Los Angeles… did he really need a reservation? The restaurant manager (maybe the owner) appeared and dove into the fray. So pleased to have you, Mr. Bryant. It's a crazy busy day, Mr. Bryant. Would you mind waiting for five minutes, Mr. Bryant. The hostess pointed to me and said, "Your table is ready, ma'am." As BougieMom and I stepped forward, Le Kobe said, "What's up with their table? Can't they wait?" Yeah he did. He said it. To a seventy-something year old woman and her daughter on Mother's Day. Just as I opened my mouth to break him off a bougie piece of my mind, one of his crew stepped forward. "Sorry ma'm, ya'll go on ahead." Um-hmm. I gave him the side-eye and he was looking sulky. Me no like.
The Case of the Charity Curmudgeon: I do so wish I could name names in this story but I promised years ago never to reveal all. I will say this… At a charity event, you are supposed to act charitable. i.e. Not complain about the room you were given (for free) or the food served to you (for free) or wonder whether other sports figures were treated better than thou. At no point should you speculate if someone was considered "a bigger name" and therefore given more shine and star treatment. It's also not classy to decide that not enough bowing, scraping and ass-kissing was happening and not show up to the event. No bueno.
The Case of the All-Star Shiggity: I will truly get my ass kicked if I tell this story. Ya'll don't even know. How can I tell it without telling it? Let me see… Oh here we go – Not every woman attending an All-Star weekend is a groupie. Not everybody wants some of you. And nasty, freaky, and rude does not look good on anybody. Puts me in the mind of that movie Kingdom Come where Whoopi wrote down two words to describe her deceased husband: Mean and surly.
Granted, others have said that Mamba-dude is nice as can be and devoted to his charity works, family, city, yada-blah. I'm just saying I haven't seen it. So when I say I don't like Kobe… I mean what I know of him, I personally do not care for. No worries, it's not keeping him or me up at night.
My point is (Rabid Laker Nation) that my dislike has nothing to do with his Lakerdom or celeb status. So quit tellin' me I'm hatin'. True, I've never really been a Lakers fan but I'm more of a girl who cheers for a player rather than a team in basketball anyway. For instance, I'm really not a Celtics fan but I love Kevin Garnett. Met him once. And yes, he was nice (and really, really fine). So guess who I'm cheering for in this series?
Stay tuned, one day I'll tell the stories of why I don't like Brett Favre or Warren Moon either.
Thoughts on Vanessa and Kobe? Give less than a damn? That's okay too. The floor is yours…