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.
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.
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.
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