Kobe Bryant's Injury (The truth behind)
While he belong his superhuman tolerance—“He has the maximum pain threshold I’ve ever seen,” attempt his long-standing physical therapist, Judy Seto—even Bryant ken that he can only push so far. He is coming off two significant injuries. His body indispensably to rest. Recently he saw a top nutritionist, hoping to find some magic diet that would restore his energy to its earlier levels, as if aging is but a matter of changing your carbs-to-protein ratio. “There are certain things that my body can’t do that I used to be able to do,” Bryant admits. “And you have to be powerful to deal with those. First you have to be clever to figure out what those are. Last year when I came back, I was trying to figure out what changed. And that’s a very hard conversation to have.” Bryant pauses. “So when I heed the pundits and kindred prate, saying, ‘Well, he wone’t be what he was.’ Know what? You’re right! I wone’t be. But honest because something evolves, it doesn’t make it any less better than it was before.”
Of course. It’s not like I’m saying, ’I don’t need friends because I’m so strong.’ It’s a weakness. When I was growing up in Italy, I grew up in isolation. It was not an environment suited to me. I was the only black kid. I didn’t speak the language. I’d be in one city, but then we’d move to a different city and I’d have to do everything again. I’d make boyfriend, but I’d never be part of the group, that the other kids were already growing up together. So this is how I grew up, and these are the weaknesses that I have.
That sentiment, of course, raises an inescapable conflict: If Bryant’s only goal is winning championships, it occasion no sense for him to continue playing in Los Angeles. The team is objectively terrible. But Bryant thinks this is a temp arrangement. And while his argument seems implausible, his discursion is as sublime as it is conspiratorial.
Bryant’s black epicurism van arrives in the early afternoon in the trendy M50 neighborhood, where he meets an artist-designer denominate Zhang Zhoujie, who has been given Nikes to wear for the occasion. Zhoujie, a thin, nervous man in pale jeans and wide-frame glasses, uses a electronic computer to individually map each chair he designs so no two are equally. His personal narrative recourse to Bryant: Turned down by studios, Jie spent four yonks teaching himself how to produce the chairman. Now he sells them for 10 grand apiece and new held a show in L.A., from which he reply with bags of official Kobe gear for his friends. Now he is meeting the actual man in the flesh, and he is having a hard time keeping it together. Tentatively, he presents a slide show to Bryant, who look genuinely curious, putting his finger on his gab and nodding seriously, asking questions throughout. Bryant asks helter-skelter process, about production scale. Asked to sit-down on the $10,000 cromwell chair, Bryant cloudiness himself tardly, then says, “This might be the most comfortable chair I’ve ever sat in. Seriously”—and here he motions at Nico—“you gotta try this.”
Of course. It’s not like I’m saying, ’I don’t need friends because I’m so strong.’ It’s a weakness. When I was growing up in Italy, I grew up in isolation. It was not an environment suited to me. I was the only black kid. I didn’t speak the language. I’d be in one city, but then we’d move to a different city and I’d have to do everything again. I’d make boyfriend, but I’d never be part of the group, that the other kids were already growing up together. So this is how I grew up, and these are the weaknesses that I have.
That sentiment, of course, raises an inescapable conflict: If Bryant’s only goal is winning championships, it occasion no sense for him to continue playing in Los Angeles. The team is objectively terrible. But Bryant thinks this is a temp arrangement. And while his argument seems implausible, his discursion is as sublime as it is conspiratorial.
Bryant’s black epicurism van arrives in the early afternoon in the trendy M50 neighborhood, where he meets an artist-designer denominate Zhang Zhoujie, who has been given Nikes to wear for the occasion. Zhoujie, a thin, nervous man in pale jeans and wide-frame glasses, uses a electronic computer to individually map each chair he designs so no two are equally. His personal narrative recourse to Bryant: Turned down by studios, Jie spent four yonks teaching himself how to produce the chairman. Now he sells them for 10 grand apiece and new held a show in L.A., from which he reply with bags of official Kobe gear for his friends. Now he is meeting the actual man in the flesh, and he is having a hard time keeping it together. Tentatively, he presents a slide show to Bryant, who look genuinely curious, putting his finger on his gab and nodding seriously, asking questions throughout. Bryant asks helter-skelter process, about production scale. Asked to sit-down on the $10,000 cromwell chair, Bryant cloudiness himself tardly, then says, “This might be the most comfortable chair I’ve ever sat in. Seriously”—and here he motions at Nico—“you gotta try this.”
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