There’s a certain group of people that like to say Los Angeles is a stars town. As evidence, they typically point to things like Hollywood, images of Paris Hilton shopping in front of the paparazzi and the celebrities that surround the Los Angeles Lakers (and more recently, Clippers) in the lower bowl of the Staples Center.
Usually these people fall into one of three camps: upper-class transplants, people in the self-obsessed entertainment industry or people who have never lived in LA.
These types often also say Kobe Bryant is the perfect athlete for Los Angeles, that his star epitomizes the star city. And make no mistake, we do love Kobe. We idolize Bryant and respect his work ethic. He’s dedicated half of his life to the Lakers. He is, perhaps, the best we’ve ever had. But in truth, most of us can’t relate to him, either. Very few people can. He is an aspiration. Not a reflection of our city, but an image of who we wish we were — tireless, maniacally hard-working, impossibly focused.
My Los Angeles, the city I know, was never a stars town. The city I know is filled with oddballs, misfits and hard-working low- and middle-class people — the
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