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Lakers News: Julius Randle Pays Tribute To Kobe Bryant
When the Los Angeles Lakers began their rebuilding process during the final years of the legendary career of Kobe Bryant, the first player they drafted in the lottery was forward Julius Randle. The bruising forward spent his first four years with the Lakers, being fortunate enough to be able to learn from the iconic Bryant early in his career.
Of course, Randle’s rookie season was over before it…
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2026年2月22日、有馬温泉中の坊瑞苑にお邪魔。左膝半月板損傷を患ったので相撲の3月場所も連休の台湾旅行もすべて中止となった腹いせに、瑞苑にも三室しか無いという貴賓室に初めて泊まったった。
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賞櫻不果的町野餐
本來見冷雨陰天了好多天，趁今日預佈會有點陽光，加上有見神戶市區民報灘區沿海有個橋下公園已可賞河津櫻；遂帶著兩個韓國女生一同去野餐。
結果，公園有緊急工程，關了。遠遠的拍個照，臨急沒找到好去處停下思考下一站。於是泊了車在附近菊正宗；兩個女生從沒來過，就在裡面走走。
在看到疑似藤條（是用作攪拌釀酒時幫助消去氣泡）；我們討論了韓國中國對於使用藤條鞭責孩子的教育。
因突然來訪，菊正宗的特別展出的觀賞時段都踫不上；只好再駕車去十分鐘路程外的六甲島町公園（是的，在街上蓆地野餐），很有港式週日中環風味🤣🤣
兩個女生在沉迷一個韓國手游，是武則天的皇朝背景；兩和女生纏著我教「萬歲萬歲萬萬歲、陛下、公主殿下…」等等中國語發音。🤣
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Luh Tyler Drops “Kobe” Video Single
A fixture in the rap game since he was 15, Luh Tyler is ready to glow up even further as he enters his twenties. The North Florida-born rap prodigy continues to shine, serving up “Kobe,” an effortlessly funky new single and music video. Produced by Venday, “Kobe” is blessed with a bounce that unites the sounds of the South and hte west coast, with an emphatic, moving bassline, twangy guitar scratches, and funky, tin-can 808 percussion.
Tyler slides on the track with his drawly flow, stacking witty flexes in quick succession: “They couldn’t see I was a star, they musta had they eyes closed/I always been a hustler, never worked a 9-to-5, tho,” he spits. In the video, live on Tyler’s YouTube channel at 2pm ET, the man known as Mr. Skii stunts in his G-Wagon, before taking questions in a press conference like a star athlete, paying tribute to titular NBA star Kobe Bryant.
“Kobe” is Tyler’s second single of 2026, following the silky Valentine’s Day anthem, "My Boo.“ Tyler is hard at work on his next project, following up last year's Florida Boy mixtape. Look for the new project to hit this spring via Motion Music / Atlantic Music Group.
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Luh Tyler steps back in his bag with “KOBE”
Luh Tyler steps back in his bag with “KOBE” a smooth, confident flex record that blends laid-back delivery with young boss energy. The official music video matches the vibe: sharp visuals, money talk, and that effortless charisma that made him one of Florida’s breakout stars.
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Kobe roi de la sneakers basketball ?
En cette période de all-star game NBA, le sujet principal dans la sneakers culture est bien évidemment le basketball. Preuve en est avec le classement des meilleures ventes des modèles basketball sur StockX, ou un nom écrase toute la concurrence, et démontre une nouvelle fois tout le décalage entre les plateformes de resell et le marché global.
Nike très loin devant
Première information, dans…
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Sneaker Icon: How the Kobe VI became the Ultimate Expression of Mamba Mentality
It’s wild that it took me this long to write about the Kobe sneaker line. I’ve written about Luka, about NBA Street, about Kobe’s legacy and mindset — but not the actual sneakers? The things that touched hardwood every night while the Mamba did what only the Mamba could do? That’s a miss by me. But let’s fix that now.
I won’t pretend I’m some archive-raiding, OG-box-sniffing, sell-a-kidney-for-rare retro-pairs kind of sneakerhead. I’ve got a decent rotation — Nike, Jordan Brand, Converse, a couple Adidas pairs I swear are underrated, and, of course, my Rigorer AR1s, because Austin Reaves got that ‘white boy who’s a killer’ vibe. But of everything I own, chase, or wish I hadn’t missed on SNKRS, there’s one silhouette that hits different. One Kobe shoe that stands above the rest — loud, fearless, unmistakably venomous. The Nike Kobe VI.
[[MORE]]My favorite sneaker, hands down. I own four colorways of the Kobe VI — each one with its own vibe, story, and memory attached. There’s the Lightbulb, a fluorescent punch of energy that looks like it was dipped in Gatorade and designed for warp speed. The All-Star Game edition, sporting deep red and black coats of paint, gives off intergalactic MVP energy. Then there’s the Mambacita Sweet 16 — the most emotional pair in the collection — honoring Gianna with elegance and grace, wrapped in black and white with gold accents and her #2 on the sides that feels like a touching tribute.
And then… my crown jewel: the Devin Booker P.E. This one’s not easy to come by — a player exclusive that fades from Suns yellow to purple, but to me? It’s pure Lakers-coded heat. It’s like if Boyz N The Hood or Training Day got turned into a sneaker. And don’t ask me how I got them. Just know that it took more than money. I had to call in favors like I was assembling the Ocean’s Eleven of sneaker connects — a few texts, a couple of handshakes, and some serious luck to get a special pair made for me by a name I can’t mention. These aren’t just kicks. They’re trophies. Symbols. And every time I wear them, it’s like I’m channeling just a little bit of that Mamba fire.
But you can’t understand the power of the VI without knowing the whole Mamba sneaker saga. It all started with Adidas, where a teenage Kobe entered the league and — like most teenage boys — made some questionable fashion decisions. The KB8s (later renamed Crazy 8s) had moments, sure, but Adidas veered into spaceship territory quick. The Kobe 1 was clunky. The Kobe 2 was a disaster. The Kobe 3? Kobe was so dissatisfied they were never even released.
And then, the sneaker free agency. Kobe bought out his Adidas deal in 2002 and became a sneaker mercenary. He wore Jordans. He wore Reeboks. He wore Air Force 1s, Huaraches, Questions, And1s, even Converse. That run was chaotic but legendary, like a sneaker buffet before he settled down with the brand that finally got him: Nike.
That’s where things got real. The Zoom Kobe 1 dropped in 2006 and it was the perfect reset — a less cluttered-profile than other sneakers of the time, battle-ready, and debuting during Kobe’s most volcanic scoring run. 81 points in the Staples Center. Then came the 2, the 3 — both of which tried things, but lacked the sleek, storytelling punch of what would come next.
The Kobe 4 changed everything. Eric Avar and Kobe teamed up to redefine the performance basketball sneaker, building it low-cut, light, and deadly fast. It felt rebellious. It felt like Kobe. That stretch from 4 through 6 — and even the 8, to be fair — was untouchable. Each new release was more refined, more venomous than the last. Kobe didn’t just want a signature shoe. He wanted a performance weapon. Something that moved with him, adapted to him, pushed him further.
The Kobe VI was peak Mamba. It didn’t whisper. It hissed. You could spot it from across the court — that scaly upper, those poppin’ colorways, that Black Mamba logo on the tongue that made it feel like a warning label. Every inch of that shoe screamed predator. It wasn’t trying to be versatile. It wasn’t trying to blend in. It was Kobe in shoe form — unbothered, dialed in, and dangerously stylish. And while most shoes have one or two iconic colorways, the Kobe VI had a whole lineup that could carry a franchise.
Let’s talk about the Grinches. It’s the sneaker equivalent of Heath Ledger’s Joker — wild, terrifying, impossible to ignore, and oddly beautiful in its chaos. That acid green with the crimson laces? A Christmas Day villain origin story. Kobe wore them while putting up 27 against LeBron and the Heatles. And even if he lost that game, he won the culture war. Sneakerheads still chase that pair like it’s a myth.
Then there were the Mambacitas, which hit completely different — honoring Gigi and carrying on the Mamba legacy in a way no other Kobe sneaker could. They were heartbreak and hope molded into one. Try not to tear up lacing those.
And the PEs? Endless. College programs were decked out in 6s. NBA players still rotate through ‘em like clockwork. WNBA stars rock them with pride. Devin Booker, DeMar DeRozan, Anthony Davis — all riding that Mamba wave, channeling that edge. It’s no accident the Kobe VI remains the go-to retro for hoopers at every level. Because it performs. Because it connects. Because it means something.
The other Kobes had heaters too. The Kobe 1s had the 81 Points pair. The 4s had Draft Day, Del Sol, Carpe Diem, and some slick MLK editions. The 5s were artsy — Bruce Lee, Dark Knight, Chaos, Miles Davis Blue. The 7s? Solid, especially Invisibility Cloaks, Cheetahs, and the Year of the Dragon. The 8s? Light, aggressive, and came in wild colors like the Christmas Reds, the What The Kobes, and Purple Gradients. But the 6? The 6 had Grinches, Chinas, Rice Highs, Lower Merions, 3Ds, Sunsets, Glass Blues, All-Stars, Italian Camos, BHM. And those were just the general releases.
Everything after that? Started feeling… different. After the Achilles tear in 2013, Kobe was still a legendary player — but his body was fading. And the shoes started fading too. The 9s were ultra high tops, stiff and cerebral. The 10s were minimal and cold. The 11s tried to bridge the old and the new, but they couldn’t recapture the chaos, the flair, the bite of earlier models. It was like watching your favorite action hero in a retirement film. Still dangerous. But no longer chasing moments — just preserving legacy.
And maybe that’s the perfect metaphor. The Kobe VI was a moment. The moment where design, performance, storytelling, and killer instinct all intersected. When Kobe was in full myth-building mode. When he was chasing that 6th ring, dunking on 7-footers, breaking ankles, snarling in the Garden, barking at his teammates, and barking for them. It’s when the Mamba wasn’t just an alter ego — it was a global brand, an identity, a movement.
When I lace up my Kobe VIs, it’s not just a sneaker rotation decision. It’s a vibe check. It’s that feeling of: I’m about to go all out. I’m here to win. I’m not afraid to take the shot. Or the heat. Or the blame. That’s what the Kobe VI brought to the floor. And that’s why no matter how many retros, collabs, or “Protro” re-releases drop, nothing will touch the original run of the 6. It was art. It was war paint. It was a fucking statement. And in a sneaker world filled with hype and collabs and colorway fatigue, the Kobe VI still slithers ahead — unapologetically iconic, eternally Mamba.
Let’s also talk tech for a sec, because the Kobe VI wasn’t just pretty — it was engineered for war. It had Zoom Air in the heel and forefoot, giving it that ultra-responsive feel that let Kobe spring up for a fadeaway like he was on a trampoline made of Mamba fangs. The Phylon midsole was sleek but sturdy, keeping it light while still protecting against the constant poundings of NBA hardwood. And then there was that polyurethane snake-scale upper — which was just as aggressive as it looked. It gave support without sacrificing flexibility, wrapping your foot like a second skin. Every inch of it was about speed, control, and precision. If the Jordan XI is tuxedo swagger, the Kobe VI is a stealth bomber.
Beyond the court, the VI became part of style language. You didn’t even have to hoop to wear ‘em. They looked good with jeans. They made noise on red carpets and in tunnel fits. People started to clock colorways like they did album drops. When the Grinches got retro’d in 2020, it was like a sneaker Coachella reunion — even people who had been sleeping on Kobe’s line were suddenly wide awake. And let’s not pretend Nike didn’t notice. The VI became the anchor of the “Protro” line — Kobe’s own idea to remix his greatest hits with updated performance tweaks for modern players. The VI was so iconic, they had to bring it back multiple times.
It’s also worth noting how the Kobe VI uniquely bridged eras and generations. You had kids in 2011 saving up for their first pair of Kobe VIs — and now those same players are in the league, still wearing the exact same silhouette. That’s not normal. Basketball shoes don’t usually have this kind of longevity. The VI became a legacy item, a link in the chain. A rite of passage. It’s the sneaker equivalent of studying film on Kobe himself — you put on the VIs, and suddenly, you’re trying to jab-step like Mamba, pull up with that same elbow lean. The shoe made you feel like you were part of something bigger.
And then, of course, came the tragedy. When Kobe passed in 2020, it was like a nuke was dropped on the basketball world. For fans, for players, for anyone who’d ever watched him play, the grief was physical. People weren’t just mourning a legend — they were mourning what he stood for. That relentless pursuit of excellence. That rare mix of killer and teacher. The Kobe VI instantly became more than a shoe. It became a memorial. A way to stay connected. A tribute you could wear on your feet. Try getting a pair now — any pair. Prices are astronomical, even for beaters. Because people aren’t just buying shoes. They’re buying pieces of memory, legacy, identity.
Even Nike had to pivot. They paused Kobe sneaker releases out of respect and reevaluation. Fans were hoarding their pairs like precious heirlooms. Pro players were crying during warmups wearing Grinches. It got real. And when the partnership between Nike and the Bryant estate got renewed in 2022, guess which sneaker they re-released first? The VI. That’s how much it meant. It wasn’t just hype. It was heritage.
You could argue that every great athlete has a defining sneaker. Jordan has the XI. LeBron has the VII. Iverson had the Question. Penny had the Foamposite. But Kobe? He wasn’t supposed to have one. His game was too adaptable, too varied. And yet, the Kobe VI captured the essence of him better than anything else — vicious, beautiful, dangerous. Whether it was the performance tech, the bold storytelling, or the fact that he rocked them during his final dominant stretch before the injuries hit, the VI is the distilled soul of Kobe Bryant.
I’ll leave it at this: If Kobe were a sneaker, he’d be the VI. And if you ever get a chance to lace up a pair — don’t just walk in them. Hunt in them.