Michael Jordan And September 11th

There were three things that occurred before Michael Jordan returned to basketball that made me believe that the universe was aligned in some ways. Three things that made it appear the world was conspiring to help him write yet another epic chapter to his career. Here they are, listed in ascending order, but they also were linear events on our timeline.

Reason #1: Getting Doug Collins back to coach. He may be insane, he may drive everybody nuts eventually, but in Collins' two previous coaching tours of duty he took two young, immature teams and greatly increased their win totals. He laid the groundwork for the first championship Bulls dynasty. Oooh. Nice.

Reason #2: Getting the #1 pick in the 2001 draft. Are you kidding me??? The Wizards/Bullets -- despite being one of the ubercrappiest franchises around for most of their existence -- who hadn't gotten a first selection in the draft since 19EFFING51......exactly FIFTY years.... suddenly found themselves sitting in the catbird's seat to swipe the best young player around??? Who would also be a perfect complement to Jordan, as this budding superstar could be shown the ropes, taught the pro grame, and prepared to accept a bigger role after MJ's playing contract was up.

(I don't follow college/high school/DJAA ball at all, so I had very little idea how wretched a draft it was.)

Reason #3. September 11th.

In what could be seen as a very strange coincidence, on September 10th Jordan set the sporting world on high alert himself, basically telling a group of reporters he would be announcing his return soon, barring any major setbacks in the next few days. The biggest comeback attempt in the history of sports was about to become an official reality. For or against him doing so, the buzz around the story reached to another level.

And then, the next day, the epic story of all epic stories.


Sportswriters that were detractors of his comeback attempted to use the tragedy to minimize it. Those people that raced into the burning towers to save others, now THOSE were heroes. To which I would respond, duh. Sure, they deserved the focus. And they deserved to be elevated above our sports heroes. Who could ever think otherwise?

But are those ultimate heroes the ONLY heroes we were supposed to have from that point on? Were we supposed to just stew in the grim realities that required a face- to face with death? If your fourth grade teacher inspired you to become a teacher, was she not a hero now either, if her classroom never caught on fire?

Our greatest sports hero was returning to the court. He was playing for our national's capital.

Oh yeah, and who was Washington set to play, for the big kickoff first game of the regular season, planned way before the attacks took place?

New York.

Sure seemed like something was definitely in the air, no pun intended.


In the end, the tragedy wasn't something mentioned often in the comeback storyline. I could understand why. I had trouble myself trying to find the six degrees of symbolic significance to such an event, trying to connect such epic tragedy to an aging megastar returning to a sport because he missed the competition.

The best I could come up with was that there was a whole lot of uncertainty packed all around us after that dreaded day. We did not know what was going to come next. We all felt that there would be more shocking terror to come. That we were a nation heading into an ugly phase, a decline. There would be wars. There would be much more dread.

His comeback was filled with uncertainty as well. Could he possibly be as good as he once was? Was his storybook tale going to now have a horrific ending?

He was one of the ultimate symbols of American excellence. Our national pride. The entire world loved and revered Michael Jordan, American athlete. The best in the world.

He was returning to face possibly his greatest challenge ever.

He probably wasn't going to be the best anymore.


Perhaps that is giving too much significance. It's not necessary. At the end of the day, we all need some time to escape.

And we needed it then more than ever.

What Jordan's Wizard Years Mean To Me

When I look at the photo above, there is nothing I see that makes me cringe.

In fact, this is how I prefer to remember him as a player.

My favorite part of his career was when he wore this particular uniform. The competition isn't even close. And no, I am not a longtime Bullets fan.

Just a crazy person, I suppose.

Then again, maybe not.

* * *

Growing up, I was never a fan of Superman. I mean, the guy was simply too damn impervious. He could do anything. Lift space shuttles. Fly around the earth to turn back time. He had super strength, super hearing, super armpits. Nothing could stop him. Ergo, I found him to be kind of a bore.

The Michael Jordan That Everybody Loves was indeed the Superman of the NBA. Faster than a speeding point guard. More powerful than Rick Mahorn. Able to leap over tall white clods in a single bound. Oh sure, there was drama, and I'd be lying if I said I never found a Superman story to be interesting. But he was too perfect. Year after year after year, twice, the story always ended the same.

I was not a fan for the longest time. Especially after he vanquished my hero, Magic Johnson, in the 1991 NBA Finals. I hated how he played, his basketball philosophy. Pass the ball more, a-hole. Why does it always have to be so much about you?


My feelings began to change when he made his first comeback. From the very start of that season, I was now a Bulls fan. A big part of that was the team acquiring Dennis Rodman as their new starting power forward. Say what you will about all his extracurricular behavior, the man could board. He was the anti-Superman -- about as far away from apple pie MJ wholesomeness as a player could get: sporting punkish dye jobs, cloaked in tattoos (which, while now quite passe, were much more difficult for Middle America to digest way back in the 20th century). Adding him to Pippen and Jordan, I predicted ultra-dominance from the get-go. Not ten games into the season, I smelled those 70 wins, and checked the paper after every game to see if they remained on course.

The drama of MJ's said comeback reeled me in as well, however. After all, his first return was indeed epic. Could he become as dominant as he was before, despite his advancing age and the years spent away from the game?

I have a thing for aging athletes. While not my favorite era because of all the childhood memories of earlier ones, Magic Johnson's 1996 comeback also holds a very special place in the ol' ticker. When I was a kid, I got heavily into Joe Montana when he was on the Kansas City Chiefs. And I don't even like football.

The aging athlete is one of the ultimate underdogs. In an arena that depends so much on how fast you can run and how high you can jump, the aging athlete has to figure out how to still get the job done without any of that crap. Because all those skills have eroded. Essentially, he's now like a prop comic having to perform a kidney operation.

In a sense. If the prop comic possesses some intelligence, he might be able to pull it off. In order to win, the aging athlete has to be many lengths smarter than his opponent.

This is why they almost never do.

Almost.

His first return was impressive. Age 33 (how old he was that first year, in '96) isn't geriatric for a basketball player, however. Still, it is without a doubt the beginning of the decline stage, and for him to reclimb the mountain and get back on top of the heap was special.

Age 35 is kind of a different story. When he was able to win another title at THAT point, I was a full on hardcore MJ fan.


Age 38 -- i.e. how old he was when he came back and play for the Wizards? From an athletic standpoint that's not aging anymore -- that's elderly. He couldn't dominate again... could he? Could he even be... above average?

I loved the suspense of that question, much more than seeing him, hanging in the air. .

Overall, the results weren't Super. Not by a longshot. But as a player, they were still quite remarkable. He did things no one had done at that age. And he was still one of the better players in the NBA.

This version of Michael Jordan was more Batman than Superman, not having any superpowers to rely on. And hey, who doesn't prefer The Dark Knight these days?

You didn't know what would happen on any given night this time around. He could score six points. The next game, he might score 51. He could be embarrassed. He could still somehow dominate like he did in his prime.


As I begin to grow ancient myself, this portion of his career means even more. I was young when he came back the second time. Now I am not. From simply walking around I have aches and pains I can't fathom playing competitive basketball with on a nightly basis. I have learned why players retire. I wanted to be young forever, and it's starting to look like that isn't going to happen.

He could do things that made the world's collective mouth drop open in awe. I wonder how it feels, having that power taken away from you. Could Superman handle being relegated to a mere desk job? How do you think you would you handle going from King Of The World to clark kent?

At some point, you'll know what that feels like. We all will. Athletes just die earlier deaths than we do.

The insane competitor he was, he fought the hands of time as hard as anyone to keep that power. To keep a large part of what made him, him. Seeing more of the ravages of time with my own eyes in the subsequent years, I appreciate his railing against the unholiness of that process on a much deeper level now.

This blog is dedicated to that period of railing. Feel free to stay as long as you want. If you need anything, the nurse should be around soon.