In the ever-evolving landscape of NBA discourse, a disturbing trend has emerged. It is a trend driven by spreadsheets, advanced analytics, and a generation of fans who view the game through the lens of “efficiency” rather than artistry. This modern shift has led to what many players consider a blasphemous revision of history: the gradual underrating of Kobe Bean Bryant. But recently, Kyrie Irving, one of the few remaining torchbearers of the “pure hooper” aesthetic, decided he had seen enough. In a passionate, fiery, and deeply emotional defense, Irving—along with insights from Gilbert Arenas—shattered the myths attempting to tarnish the Black Mamba’s legacy.
The War on the Mid-Range: Art vs. Analytics
The core of the recent criticism leveled against Kobe revolves around “efficiency.” In today’s NBA, where the three-pointer and the layup are king, Kobe’s mastery of the mid-range—the 15 to 20-foot assassin’s zone—is often dismissed by critics as “bad math.” Kyrie Irving, however, sees it as a lost art form, a “slow death” of genuine skill that is being suffocated by analytics.
“Back then, guys like Kobe, MJ, and T-Mac owned that 15 to 20-foot space,” Irving explained, his frustration palpable. “That area was art. Sharp footwork, cold fadeaways, one-dribble pull-ups. Pure skill on display, not just math.”
Irving’s argument cuts to the heart of the divide between those who play the game and those who merely analyze it. To Kyrie, reducing Kobe’s game to True Shooting percentages misses the point entirely. The mid-range wasn’t just a shot; it was a weapon used to close games when defenses tightened up in the playoffs. “If Kobe was leading a team today playing that exact same style, Twitter would be calling him inefficient or saying he takes bad shots,” Kyrie noted. “I’m not letting people revise history.”
This sentiment resonates deeply with “real hoopers”—a term Irving uses to distinguish players and knowledgeable fans from casual observers. The mid-range game required timing, rhythm, and supreme confidence, traits that don’t always show up in a box score but are essential for winning championships. By trashing this style, critics aren’t just analyzing a game; they are disrespecting the masters who perfected it.
The Disrespect of the #11 Ranking
Perhaps nothing fueled Kyrie’s fire more than the recent wave of “all-time lists” from major media outlets that have placed Kobe Bryant outside the top ten, often settling him at number 11. To the fraternity of NBA players, this number is not just inaccurate; it is laughable.
“Ask us hoopers who played against Kobe,” Kyrie challenged. “We all gonna talk top three. If you played against the Mamba, you know.”
The disconnect is glaring. Media rankings often prioritize cumulative stats and efficiency metrics, whereas players prioritize fear, skill, and the inability to stop an opponent. Dwyane Wade, a Hall of Famer who went toe-to-toe with Kobe for years, shares Kyrie’s sentiment. To them, ranking Kobe at 11 is an insult to the game itself. It suggests that what happened on the court—the psychological dominance, the technical perfection—matters less than what a calculator says decades later.
Irving recalls Kobe’s own reaction to such slights when he was alive. “I remember one year Kobe addressed it… he was like, ‘This is idiotic to me.'” It wasn’t arrogance; it was a bewilderment that people could overlook the reality of his dominance. Kobe entered the league at 17, facing grown men, and by 22, he was a multi-time champion busting the best players in the world. As Kyrie put it, “That’s not hype. That’s facts.”
The “S500 Driving Like a Bugatti”
While Kyrie defended the skill, Gilbert Arenas provided a fascinating physiological perspective on why players revere Kobe so intensely. In a moment of brilliant analysis, Arenas pointed out that unlike Michael Jordan or LeBron James, Kobe Bryant was not a genetic anomaly.
“90% of [the greatest players] have God-gifted natural talent,” Arenas argued. He listed MJ’s 48-inch vertical and massive hands, and LeBron and Magic’s size and vision. Then he contrasted this with Kobe. “Standard,” Arenas said. “If I give you every 6’6” guard in NBA history, you would never find him. He didn’t have big hands, he wasn’t quick, he wasn’t fast… 38-inch vertical, that’s standard.”
This is where the legend of the “Mamba Mentality” finds its true grounding. Kobe took a “standard” NBA body—an “S500″—and through sheer will, technical refinement, and obsession, he pushed it to perform like a “Bugatti.”
“That’s what we look at,” Arenas explained. Players respect the grind because they know how hard it is to manufacture dominance without the cushion of freakish athleticism. Kobe built his game from the ground up, turning himself into a carbon copy of MJ solely through work ethic. This “built, not born” narrative is why his legacy feels more personal and attainable to players like Kyrie and DeMar DeRozan.
The FaceTime Call: A Bond Beyond Basketball
The most touching moment of Kyrie’s tribute was a personal anecdote that highlighted the depth of his relationship with Kobe. It wasn’t just about moves on the court; it was about mentorship and validation.
Irving reminisced about the 2016 NBA Finals, a series where he hit the most important shot of his life to help the Cleveland Cavaliers overcome a 3-1 deficit against the Golden State Warriors. In the chaos of the locker room celebration, amidst the champagne and the screaming, Kyrie didn’t call his agent or a friend. He FaceTimed Kobe.
“I’m in the locker room celebrating on FaceTime… like, ‘Dude, it worked! Your advice worked!'” Kyrie recounted. Kobe, sitting at home with his daughter Gigi, was beaming with pride. “He’s like, ‘Oh my god!’… I was really, really proud of him,” Kobe had said in a past interview referenced by Kyrie.
This moment underscores the familial bond Kobe shared with the next generation. Unlike Shaq, who has recently faced criticism for “hazing” or downplaying the achievements of younger stars like Dwight Howard or Rudy Gobert, Kobe embraced them. He was a mentor to Kyrie, Jayson Tatum, Giannis Antetokounmpo, and Devin Booker. He passed down the “cheat codes,” the details of footwork, and the secrets of the “phone booth” game.
Shaq’s Shade vs. Kobe’s Legacy
The conversation inevitably touched upon the recent comments made by Shaquille O’Neal. Shaq has been vocal lately, claiming he could have won championships with Tracy McGrady or Stephen Curry, a statement that many viewed as “straight shade” thrown at Kobe. It fits a pattern of older legends protecting their legacy by diminishing others.
However, Kyrie’s defense of Kobe serves as a counter-narrative to Shaq’s revisionism. While Shaq relies on the “rings” argument (noting that Robert Horry has seven, yet isn’t the GOAT), Kyrie and the hoopers rely on the “eye test” and the “fear factor.” Kobe didn’t just win; he carried the burden. He sacrificed his scoring in the early 2000s to keep Shaq engaged—a strategic genius move Phil Jackson asked of him—and then later proved he could win without the big man, with no safety net.
Conclusion: The Immortal
Kyrie Irving’s message is clear: Stop the lazy comparisons. Stop the disrespect. And above all, stop trying to quantify greatness with a calculator. Kobe Bryant’s legacy isn’t defined by a True Shooting percentage or a ranking on a website. It is defined by the players who emulated him, the “art” he protected, and the sheer impossibility of what he achieved with the tools he had.
“This man, Kobe Bean Bryant, is immortalized not just because of his basketball,” Kyrie concluded. “He is way bigger because of the character, because of what we witnessed him go through.”
In a world desperate to rank, sort, and analyze, Kyrie Irving reminds us that some things—like the spirit of the Black Mamba—are simply immeasurable. And for the real ones, the debate was over a long time ago.
