What We Can Learn from Kobe’s Extraordinary Work Ethic

He was the one in a silent and dark gym two hours before the rest of the team arrived. 1 He was the one that made (not just took) 100,000 shots in an offseason to re-perfect his shot post injury. 2 He was the one who stayed on the court hours after the lights when down, the fans went home, and his teammates hit the bars, practicing the same two shots for 75 minutes straight after a devastating loss to the Heat. 3

Kobe Bryant was a master of monotony, relentless about the details. Reading about his work ethic reminds me of a quote I have displayed in my office. It reads, “Whatever is rightly done, however humble, is noble.” 4

It serves as a constant reminder that excellence is never a negotiation with the promise of significance or recognition. It’s an unrelenting conviction to do what’s right even when you’re all alone, it’s dark, you’re tired, and everyone else has made their peace with mediocrity.

Years later, at Kobe Bryant’s number retirement ceremony, he remarked, “Those times when you get up early and you work hard. Those times you stay up late and you work hard. Those times when you don’t feel like working. You’re too tired. You don’t want to push yourself, but you do it anyway. That is actually the dream.” 5

So many of us think the dream is landing the next big title or the next big promotion. Our sights are set so far in the distance, we become focused on what we lack instead of faithful with what we have. Future ambition can so easily eclipse our current responsibilities. This is when we start to cut corners and skirt details, living as if we’re entitled to the destination before we’ve walked the path.

We mislead ourselves into thinking success is a game of feet instead of a game of millimeters. And for Kobe, it literally was a game of millimeters. According to Nike spokesperson KeJuan Wilkins, he had the company shave a few millimeters off the bottom of his shoe to give himself one one-hundredth of a second better reaction time. 6 This story is among countless other micro-adjustments he was constantly making to his game.

He wasn’t focused on the next title, the next trophy, or even the next win. He was focused on getting granular with what was already good and making it great.

I’ll never forget the couple of adolescent summers and holiday breaks I spent working at the clothing store Old Navy. As far as what I was officially hired to do, I don’t remember, but I was expected to keep the clothes folded throughout the day, to back up a register every once in a while, and to help clean the store after closing as fast as possible. I learned to do these jobs well, but only meeting the expectations felt like the bare minimum to me. And I wasn’t there to just check some items off a list and pick up my paycheck. I wanted to be the very best at whatever I was giving my time to.

So, I took it upon myself to learn the layout of the store, to get to know the sections within each department, and to memorize where every item went. Armed with this knowledge, I would make my way back to the fitting room, organize the clothes racks based on the layout of each department, and then run the clothes back to the floor as quickly as possible. It became a game I played with myself of how efficient and how fast I could run the next batch of clothes. As you can imagine, I became one of the fastest runners in the store.

I remember coming in one day to the floor-to-ceiling denim wall display having been completely reworked and beautifully restocked. Our front-end manager, April, had just finished sliding the last pair into the wall. I was mesmerized by the precision. The fold on every jean was pristine and the stack within each cube was perfect. I clearly had more to learn. Surprisingly, folding denim to go in a wall display is more fussy than you’d imagine. It’s like an art form. So, I walked up to April and I said, “Teach me how you did this. I know you have other things you could be doing. Let me be your denim wall girl.”

April was over six feet tall, full of life, and she walked like she owned the world. She had the perfect balance of approachability and get-to-itiveness, which I always appreciated. She smiled at me, probably poked a little fun at how overly-eager I was about it, and then consented. We stood there at the folding table as she patiently demonstrated her technique to me. I watched, I listened, I asked questions, and I practiced. Every pair of jeans I came across, whether it went into the wall or out on the floor, I practiced folding exactly like she taught me. I did, indeed, become the “Denim Wall Girl” (at least when I was on shift).

I wasn’t originally going to tell you this story because, well, God forbid you think I’m comparing myself to Kobe, and I also thought it was lame to talk about my 17-year old summer job, but that’s actually the whole point. The point is giving your all to whatever’s in front of you, regardless of how mundane or unimpressive it might be. In the grand scheme of life, does becoming a perfectionist about the denim wall in an Old Navy store in Cedar Hill, Texas really add value to the world? Probably not, but it’s not about what it did for the store; it’s about what it did for me. These were the small beginnings of me carving out a defining work ethic for myself — something I carried through to every opportunity that followed.

Did I have aspirations of moving up to different positions within the store? I did, but never at the expense of missing the details I was responsible for NOW. And indeed, I was eventually considered for the front-end manager position, but life happened to take me a different direction before this materialized. Nonetheless, here’s what I learned: nothing will fling open the doors of opportunity faster than mastering what you’ve currently been entrusted with. This isn’t just the right way to work, it’s the only responsible way to grow.

Hunger is a great quality to have, but hunger without faithfulness is selfish ambition. Here’s another way to say this: When you’re hungry for what’s next without being faithful with the now, you’re asking someone to loan you responsibility you haven’t earned.

Many people think success is something you climb high for, when in reality, it’s something you dig deep for. I believe Kobe inherently understood this. In fact, I believe one of the gravest mistakes we could make in honoring his legacy is to only remember him for his high moments and raw talent. Kobe’s talent is only half of why he realized the success he did. What set him apart in a vast pool of raw talent was his ability to get granular with the details and endlessly improve them.

To recount his story as if he was some sort of prodigy is to blatantly ignore every extra minute he spent on the court, every extra shot he took off the clock, every extra hour he spent in the gym. The truth is, it’s more convenient to look at a success story like Kobe’s and label him a wonder than it is to admit he was just as human as me and you, having all the same finite parameters. The difference is, he was willing the sweat the small stuff until every aspect of his work ethic was worthy of his inherent gift. His dream was the details, and he lived this dream minute by minute, not milestone by milestone.

Details for the sake of details carry intrinsic value beyond the success they may or may not ultimately contribute to. They teach us discipline, they foster resilience, they mark us with excellence. They engrain virtues within us that far outlive their material rewards.

So, I ask you. What can you do right now with what you have? What opportunities haven’t introduced themselves to you because they haven’t met your sense of duty yet? What are the couple of millimeters in your life you need to shave off…or add on, for that matter?

Maybe it’s more giving and less gossip; maybe it’s more burpees and less brownies; maybe it’s more sunrises and less snooze buttons; maybe it’s more curiosity and less complaining. Whatever it is, I leave you with this: the key to realizing what’s ahead of you is mastering what’s in front of you.