Kobe was apparently the last one to know that he doesn’t have any friends. Maybe it just took him a while to see in himself what seemingly EVERYONE else on earth could’ve already told him.
In a recent GQ interview, Kobe admits to his inability of actually being a human-being, while still smirking like a robot created in a basketball laboratory. The true sign of a sociopathic basketball savant in Kobe’s own words:
So how much are you willing to give up? Have you given up the possibility of having friends? Do you have any friends?
I have “like minds.” You know, I’ve been fortunate to play in Los Angeles, where there are a lot of people like me. Actors. Musicians. Businessmen. Obsessives. People who feel like God put them on earth to do whatever it is that they do. Now, do we have time to build great relationships? Do we have time to build great friendships? No. Do we have time to socialize and to hangout aimlessly? No. Do we want to do that? No.We want to work. I enjoy working.
So is this a choice? Are you actively choosing not to have friends?
Well, yes and no. I have friends. But being a “great friend” is something I will never be. I can be a good friend. But not a great friend. A great friend will call you every day and remember your birthday. I’ll get so wrapped up in my shit, I’ll never remember that stuff. And the people who are my friends understand this, and they’re usually the same way. You gravitate toward people who are like you. But the kind of relationships you see in movies—that’s impossible for me. I have good relationships with players around the league. LeBron and I will text every now and then. KG and I will text every now and then. But in terms of having one of those great, bonding friendships—that’s something I will probably never have. And it’s not some smug thing. It’s a weakness. It’s a weakness.
Kobe is the Rain Man of basketball, completely inept at any normal human interaction outside of basketball due to his own lack of social skills and/or interest in anything except counting jump-shots (toothpicks on the floor) or watching game film analyzing his every movement (watching Wheel of Fortune).
I feel bad for his wife and kids after he’s done playing basketball, if he can’t see himself having any sort of “great” relationship now, what’s gonna happen when his most important thing in life (basketball) is gone? The robot may malfunction.