I HAD NEVER HEARD STAPLES CENTER GO SO QUIET AS IT DID WHEN KOBE WENT DOWN.

He was holding his Achilles, pulling at the tendon that was no longer there, trying to reattach it. It was like Achilles himself had fallen, cut down in his prime, grasping at a career that might never rebound. But if anyone could come back from such a serious injury, it was Kobe. It had to be Kobe. His determination and focus were superhuman; his commitment to the game was nothing short of devout. What else could explain a player who scores 60 points in his final game?

I took Kobe’s rookie headshot in October of 1996. The fresh-faced, 18-year-old rookie was a ball of energy. But he held an intense curiosity. Kobe observed everyone and everything. And for his age, he was uncharacteristically focused and motivated. I was 38, and a new father of two, and I was about to watch this young man who so many were calling the next Michael Jordan become the one and only Kobe Bryant.

Those three championships that Kobe won with Shaq were historic: men against boys, playing an entirely different game. In that era, the Lakers were invincible. And it was in the whirlwind of glory—but in setbacks, too—that Kobe became a man.

That hothead rookie of ’96 had been a fierce competitor, even at practice. He couldn’t lose. And as his career unfolded, Kobe would take his relentless pursuit of perfection—that academic obsession—and mold it into his unique personality as a leader. Kobe was always vocal in the locker room and training room. But he also knew how to escape to that quiet place and mentally prepare for the game ahead. By the time he had been branded an elder statesman on Team USA and in All-Star Games, Kobe was a serial winner who could fire up his teammates and steel himself like a warrior monk.

But few people have seen another side to Kobe: the man who performed Make-A-Wish requests after almost every home game—and many road games—throughout his career. I got to document a few of those nights when Kobe was there for kids and their families as a different kind of hero—one who understood the profound impact of basketball beyond simply winning and losing. Behind Kobe’s relentless determination was a gentle and sober compassion.

There are only a few NBA players who were consistently dynamic and exciting to photograph, game after game, year after year. A very short list: Magic, MJ, and Kobe. Early in his career Kobe was a dunk machine. I remember my disappointment when I didn’t come home with three or four dunk photos after a game. That eagerness for the big, exciting shot abated as the years went by. Kobe continued to be an amazing subject to photograph on the court, but the fun was in the challenge of documenting the intensity and passion, the subtlety and detail that came out in his game; those epic matchups that really got his juices flowing.

Off the court I was fortunate to forge a great relationship with Kobe rooted in mutual respect and trust. Twenty years is a long time in life—and especially in basketball—to be a fly on the wall. But Kobe knew I had a job to do, and I knew how to respect his privacy and his space. The result is an unparalleled insight into the career of a legend. As Kobe steps away from the court, he returns to his fans transformed: Now he has become a teacher, reflecting on the game he changed and sharing his hard-won wisdom.

—ANDREW D. BERNSTEIN