Joe “Jellybean” Bryant, the father of the late Basketball Hall of Famer Kobe Bryant, has died at the age of 69, La Salle University’s athletics department reported.
Citing La Salle men’s head basketball coach Fran Dunphy, The Philadelphia Inquirer wrote Joe had recently suffered a stoke. The exact cause of death hasn’t been confirmed yet.
La Salle University, where Joe played and coached, said in a statement that he “was a beloved member of the Explorer family and will be dearly missed.”
Just like his famous son, Joe was a renowned basketball player himself. Drafted by the Golden State Warriors as the 14th overall pick in the 1975 NBA draft, he played for the Philadelphia 76ers for four seasons, the then-San Diego Clippers for three seasons, and the Houston Rockets for one season. He also played in Europe.
The 76ers paid tribute to Joe, calling him “a local basketball icon, whose legacy on the court transcended his journey across Bartram High School, La Salle University, and his first four NBA seasons with the 76ers from 1975-79.”
Joe’s sudden passing comes four years after the tragic death of his son Kobe and his granddaughter Gianna, who were killed in a helicopter crash with seven other people.
Kobe’s widow, Vanessa Bryant, wrote on her Instagram story on Tuesday, “Sending our condolences upon hearing the news of my father-in-law’s passing.
“We hoped things would’ve been different. Although the times we spent together were few, he was always sweet and nice to be around. Kobe loved him very much.”
Former Kobe teammate Doug Young praised Joe as the ideal “role model.”
“Joe was our JV coach at Lower Merion and I could not have asked for a more positive mentor, teacher, and role model,” Young told ESPN. “It’s difficult to overstate how much he influenced me and my teammates. He made basketball fun and made us all want to be better; he believed in us. I’ll never forget his infectious smile, his bear hugs and the incredible bond he shared with Kobe. Growing up in Lower Merion, there was no family we loved and admired more than the Bryants, and that started with Joe.”
Arn Tellem, the vice chairman of the Pistons and formerly Kobe Bryant’s agent, expressed his sadness over the loss of Joe and joined the basketball community in mourning a true Philly hoops legend. “Our friendship opened the door for me to represent Kobe as he entered the NBA, a memory I’ll always cherish. Joe was a devoted husband, father and grandfather, whose warmth touched everyone he met.”
May he rest in peace.
Arrogant Neighbor Fills In My Pond – My Clever Retaliation Teaches Him Not to Underestimate an Elderly Lady
The grandchildren adore frolicking in it, and sometimes I jest they might favor the pond over me!
All was serene until Brian became my neighbor five years ago. Right from the start, he was troubled by my pond.
“Margaret!” he’d shout from beyond the fence. “Those frogs disrupt my sleep! Can’t you quiet them down?”
With a grin, I’d respond, “Oh, Brian, they’re merely serenading you. No charge at all!”
He continued to grumble. “What about the mosquitoes? Your pond is a breeding ground!”
“Now, Brian,” I’d retort, “my pond is spotless. Perhaps those mosquitoes are from the clutter in your own yard.”
He’d storm off, and I assumed he’d adjust over time. However, I misjudged.
One day, I took a short trip to visit my sister, expecting nothing more than leisurely chats and card games. I returned to a shocking sight that chilled me to the core.
Arriving home, the familiar glint of water was missing, replaced by soil. Heart plummeting, I rushed from my car.
My neighbor, kindly Mrs. Johnson, approached hastily. “Margaret! Thank goodness you’re here. I tried to halt them, but they claimed to have authorization!”
“Stop whom? What authorization?” I stammered, fixated on the muddy remnant of my once-beloved pond.
“A team arrived yesterday, tasked by a company to drain and fill your pond,” Mrs. Johnson explained. “I protested that you were away, yet they presented official documents!”
Feeling betrayed, I realized twenty years of cherished memories had vanished overnight. I knew who was responsible.
“Brian,” I clenched my fists, seething.
“What will you do?” Mrs. Johnson inquired, her expression laden with concern.
I straightened up. “Well, I’ll show him why you shouldn’t trifle with a woman like Margaret!”
Firstly, I contacted my family. My daughter Lisa was incensed. “Mom, this is unlawful! We should inform the authorities!”
“Just wait, dear,” I counseled.
“Let’s gather evidence first.”
Then, my perceptive granddaughter Jessie reminded, “Grandma! What about the wildlife camera in the oak tree? It might have recorded something!”
Indeed, that camera captured our ace in the hole.
The footage unmistakably showed Brian, directing the team to destroy my pond. He seemed pleased with his stealthy mischief.
“Caught you,” I smirked.
Brian presumed I would overlook his actions due to my age and solitude. He underestimated my resourcefulness.
I immediately phoned the local wildlife conservation office.
“Good day,” I began politely. “I need to report the ruin of a protected natural area.”
The agent sounded puzzled. “Protected area, ma’am?”
“Absolutely,” I continued. “My pond hosted an endangered fish species, registered with your office years ago. And it’s been filled in without any lawful clearance.”
The conservation office doesn’t take such matters lightly.
Shortly, they were at Brian’s doorstep, imposing a hefty fine that surely made him wince.
“Gentlemen, we’re here concerning the illegal obliteration of a protected site on your neighbor’s land,” they informed Brian.
Brian blanched. “What? Protected site? It was merely a pond!”
“A pond that housed a recognized endangered fish species, Mr. Thompson. You authorized its destruction without proper consent.”
“This is absurd!” Brian protested. “That old pond was an eyesore! I was cleaning up the neighborhood!”
“Unfortunately, that ‘cleanup’ has resulted in a $50,000 penalty for breaching environmental laws,” they countered.
Brian was aghast. “$50,000? You must be joking! That pond was—”
I savored his dismay from afar, but my plans were not yet complete.
I called my grandson Ethan, a sharp attorney in the city.
“Ethan, dear,” I said. “How about assisting your grandmother in dealing with a neighborhood tyrant?”
Eager to aid, Ethan swiftly served Brian with legal papers for property damage and emotional harm.
While I could have stopped there, one more move remained.
Brian’s wife Karen, who always seemed reasonable, returned from work one evening, and I seized the opportunity for a candid talk.
“Evening, Karen,” I greeted her. “Can we chat for a moment?”
She nodded, weary yet accommodating. “Of course, Margaret. What’s troubling you?”
Over tea, I unveiled the entire saga about the pond – its origins, the joyful memories, and the wildlife it supported.
Karen’s expression shifted from bewilderment to shock. “Margaret, I was unaware,” she exclaimed. “Brian claimed the city mandated the pond’s closure for safety!”
“Well,” I reassured her, patting her hand. “Now you understand the full story.”
Subsequently, the neighborhood was abuzz, and Brian vanished for a while after Karen confronted him about his deceit.
One morning, the buzz of machinery woke me. Peering outside, I was astonished to see a team working in my yard under Karen’s supervision.
“Morning, Margaret. I hope you don’t mind, but I thought it was time to rectify things,” Karen greeted me as the crew worked to restore my pond.
Karen confided about Brian’s other questionable dealings. “This was just him venting his frustrations,” she shared softly.
With the pond reinstated, the environmental charges were withdrawn. Ethan persuaded me to drop the lawsuit as well, always the diplomat.
As for Brian, he disappeared out of state, humbled and defeated. Karen, now a frequent visitor, helped me care for the revived pond, grateful for the chance to make amends.
One serene evening by the restored waters, Karen mused, “Margaret, I never imagined I’d appreciate Brian’s mistake.”
Curious, I asked, “Why is that?”
She grinned, clinking our iced tea glasses. “If he hadn’t interfered, I might never have discovered such an incredible neighbor.”
Here I am, 74 and invigorated, with a rejuvenated pond, a new ally, and a tale for future family gatherings. Life always surprises, doesn’t it?
And if there’s a moral here, it’s never to underestimate a grandmother with a resolve and a competent attorney!
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