#23

Day #23 of the LFG 75-day Challenge for our Friend Amir (A One of One who passed at age 42)

#23

My challenge is to write out the text for a column every day for 75-days. I publish one of the columns every seven days and look forward to editing them all for a project to be named later. The work starts out long-hand scribble style on legal paper. 23 down, only 52 to go! (Previous personal record: 2-days).

So, there is only ONE #23 to be considered on Day #23

And back in 1986, I remember playin’ some doubles over at the Arcadia Park tennis courts when word got out that Michael Jordan had gone for 63 points versus my Larry Bird Celtics in the first round if the NBA playoffs. I vaguely remembered freshman Jordan’s NCAA championship-winning jumper from 1982. And the next thing you know, in 1987, I won the Arcadia Park ladder tennis tournament (a coincidence?) A previous ladder champ, Sven Davidson, had won the French Open singles and Wimbledon doubles; I used to hit with him too. Sven always offered to play a legit set for $100, giving me three points per game. It was cool just being on the same court with a champion. But I was a champion too! It seemed like championships were in the air. And I digress.

I started following Michael Jordan closely after the 63-point playoffs explosion and reading Larry Bird’s description of Jordan as, “God disguised as a basketball player.” Michael Jordan didn’t move like any other basketball player, or any other athlete or, for that matter, any other human being that I’d ever seen. Jordan moved like a panther wearing sneakers. I caught every televised weekend Chicago Bulls’ game- there just weren’t enough of them.

Into the 90s, I became a Detroit Pistons hater. The Pistons founded the Jordan Rules, where going to the hoop was a full body martial arts experience, directed at Jordan’s expense. I gave Piston’s perpetrator Dennis Rodman a reprieve when he later became a Jordan teammate. Having a player to root for playing a game I loved and played since elementary school was like having a shot glass straight outta the fountain of youth.

And I shed a tear right along with Michael when the Bulls won their first NBA Championship in 1991. After three straight championships, and the murder of his father, Jordan moved onto professional baseball as a rookie minor leaguer. I read a book titled Rookie, the story of Jordan’s brief escape into baseball.

After missing almost two full NBA seasons, Michael returned to the Bulls, and I returned to NBA fandom as well. Nothing like another shot at looking for Ponce deLeon.

After multiple attempts to secure cable TV, I finally got my mom to install it with the pitch, “We could’ve seen Michael play three times last week.” Mom instantly dropped any concerns over punching a hole into the side of the house. I was my mom’s care giver through most of the 90s and watching Michael gave us both something special to look forward to, together.

When I took a high level hands-on restorative dentistry training at University of Pacific in 1998, I shared a lunch table with colleagues who couldn’t their emotions seeing Nike’s Jordan commercial up on the screen. I used to know the words by heart, and today it would take about 5 seconds, but the last never to be forgotten line goes, “…I've failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed.” Still words still get me when I pull up the video or see it on Instagram. We’ve all been there. If Michael Jordan could say it, demonstrate it, and live it, why not us and our own dreams of success?

When Jordan returned to the Bulls, they proceeded to win three more consecutive championships; they never needed a Game 7 (in the four out of seven format).

After the sixth championship and the 98-99 season, Jordan retired for two years…and then returned to play for two more seasons with the Washington Wizards, including a final season in 2002-2003. During the final season, Jordan (age 40) played in all 82 games averaging 37 minutes and 20.0 points per game. So much for “load management.”

“The Last Dance,” a chronicle of the Bulls final championship season in 1998-99, helped me psychologically survive a pandemic; no holes in the wall were necessary to stream the ESPN production, but it would’ve been a small price to pay.

I’ve seen the 2023 film “Air,” based on Nike’s pursuit of a shoe business deal with rookie Jordan and the subsequent birth of Air Jordan, seven times (Twice on the big screen, it was the first time to the movies since March 2020 and Covid-19.)

Jordan was a cultural phenomenon; he not only established the way future NBA players would be paid but also influenced the way pro basketball would be played. And then there was way NBA players, playground participants, and leisure time fans looked. Ask me why, at my current presidential age, I know. That would be me playing tennis, golf, or just walking to Peet’s Coffee wearing baggy shorts while NEVER being caught dead or alive sporting outdoor casual footwear NOT of the black sneakers and socks variety.

Tim Grover was Jordan’s only trainer; I’ve read both of Grover’s books twice.

If Kobe was the epitome of Mamba Mentality, Jordan embodied the 6’6” model of the ultimate creative, competitive, and committed hooper machine. And what I admire most, Jordan helped keep me young; that’s what happens when you look and listen for something to which you can look forward. There is only one #23.

A quote from this morning: “My best skill was that I was coachable. I was a sponge and aggressive to learn.”

Michael Jordan

Certainly, we all can’t be Michael Jordan, but we can all be coachable and be our best sponge and aggressive to learn…and pass it forward.