We saw 62 in 3, 81 in the 213, and 5 in 20 years.
We saw your 4 airballs against the Jazz - how fitting that you ended your career against the team that brought you to life.
We saw you lock-in on the court, lock-up trophies and accolades, lock-down the best, and lock-out everyone else reaching for Jordan’s throne.
We saw you shut down All Stars, and shut up ARCO arena.
We saw you muscle with Artest, jaw with The Answer, battle with The Big Ticket, and stand nose-to-nose with Barnes (not gonna lie, we blinked).
We saw you pivot, shake, jab, step, pull up, rise up, and fadeaway.
We saw you grow up with Shaq, chase away Superman, conquer your demons, and raise banners.
We saw you bring down the house at Figueroa and 11th.
We saw you take life from every arena.
We saw you redefine intensity.
We saw you win and lose, on the court, and off.
We saw you flex your muscles, jut out your jaw, pop in your fingers, twist your ankles, clean out your knees, and rip your tendons.
We saw you hobble to the free throw line, but sink it anyway.
We saw you conquer Beijing, dominate London, and run L.A.
We saw you three-peat, and chase 6.
We saw you snatch the torch, burn it brighter, and finally, pass it - even though you didn’t want to.
We saw Fro-be, The Closer, Mr. 81, Lord of the Rings, The Dark Knight, The Villain, The Staple Gun, and The Black Mamba.
Last night, we saw you smile, walk on to the court and raise your hands to the crowd one final time.
Then we saw you do what you’ve done for 20 seasons, leave it all out on the floor.
We saw you, in impossibly storybook fashion, drop a heroic 60 points in your final game.
Last night we saw #24 leave Staples for the last time.
We saw you make sure we’ll never forget.
And we can’t wait to see what you’ll do next.