I remember it like it was yesterday.

It was 2010. Kobe Bryant and the Los Angeles Lakers were playing the Phoenix Suns in the NBA conference finals.

The Lakers held a three games to two lead in a best of seven series. One more win meant the Lakers advanced to the NBA finals. I was terrified.

See, I was a Suns fan. A big one.

Like most Australian NBA fans, I'd formed an irrationally high attachment to a bunch of players I'd never seen in person, who played for a city I'd never been to.

For a lot of Australian fans, that attachment was to LA - and it wasn't hard to see why.

At that stage in his career Kobe, then 31, had already won four championships.

He was an Olympic gold-medalist, a 12 time all-star and possessed a take-no-prisoners attitude to winning that made him one of the most beloved athletes in the world.

He was the man.

Still, I had every faith in my Suns, who were chasing their first championship in franchise history. How foolish I was.

Kobe was feeling himself from the get go that night. His first-half effort secured a 17-point lead for the Lakers heading into the final quarter. The game seemed over.

Then the Suns fought back. It seemed improbable at first, but when they cut the lead to six with five minutes to play I dared to believe.

What happened next will stay with me forever.

Kobe checked in and went on a tear. He scored nine points in the final two minutes and single handedly sunk the Suns, and their dreams with them.

It was agonising.

But then the strangest thing happened. The Phoenix fans started to cheer. I should have been upset, but when he hit an impossible 23-footer with a hand in his face, I found myself cheering too.

Kobe finished with 37 points. And even though it broke my heart into a thousand pieces, it remains my favorite ever game.

That was the power of Kobe. He could play the villain and hero all at once, and no matter what light you viewed him in, you loved him regardless.

His early years provided the glory, but for me his later years define him the most. Watching great athletes age is never easy. But he did it with a humility that he didn't always possess in his younger years.

He could be arrogant, and there were more than a few rumors that suggested he wasn't always the best teammate or person.

But he came to embody an inner growth and maturation that I believe exists in all of us.

I think the world saw that. I think his peers saw it. And if you want proof, look no further than his final game in 2016. It topped broadcast ratings across the world, despite being played on the same night the Golden State Warriors broke the all time regular season win record.

Fans just loved him. They identified not with his ability or athleticism, but with his imperfections. At least I did.

When he won an Oscar for his animated short film Dear Basketball in 2018, he proved it's never too late to begin a new chapter. And as a journalist who began their career later than most, that spoke to me.

From a basketball standpoint, his legacy speaks for itself.

His popularity reverberated throughout the world and contributed to making the game the global juggernaut it is today.

In Australia, especially in Ballarat, participation rates have never been higher. And littered throughout cities and regional areas across the country, the no 24 jersey is still as common as any.

Now it will be more popular than ever.

Kyle Evans is a sport journalist with The Courier and a huge basketball fan.