7. Number seven is actually four particularly memorable regular season games from his second tenure with the Bulls, all of which were a product of Michael taking umbrage at some perceived slight and/or sending a message as he deemed necessary. They seem particularly apt in light of his HOF speech from earlier (much more on this later), in which he basically ran down the list of things from which he drew motivation throughout his career. He'd always been known to take even the slightest affront and use it as a personal challenge, a motivational tool that he seemed to use more and more in his later years. It got to a point where a number of coaches would tell their younger players to just keep their mouths shut when it came to Jordan. Unfortunately for some of those coaches, they apparently didn't get that memo themselves...
As a sidenote...a big thanks to the growing contingent of MJ fans on Youtube who are kind enough to post his games, and which are linked here...from Hoopsencyclopedia, to Korone79, to ForEmily23, Starks23, Balthus23, and all the others -- thanks guys.
January 13, 1996, Bulls @ 76ers
Rookie Jerry Stackhouse, fellow UNC alum and the latest "Next Jordan" decided to mention to the local media how he had been beating MJ up in pick-up games down at UNC during the offseason. Guess what happened next?
Ah, yes. 48 points on 18-28 shooting in just over three quarters of work, while holding Stackhouse to 13 points on 4-11 shooting. My favorite moment? Check the 3:04 mark. Hopefully Stack didn't crush some poor kid while flying into the second row.
November 6, 1996, Bulls @ Heat
Fourth game of the 1997 season against Miami, one of the few Eastern Conference teams thought to have even a prayer of unseating Chicago. And of course, one of Jordan's favorite victims, Pat Riley. Statement game?
Message sent: 50 points, including some laugh-out-loud retro moves from MJ. The highlight? The sequence at the end of the first half when, after a Pippen three with time winding down, MJ stole the inbounds pass and drilled a 30-footer at the buzzer, which had me and my buddy Thong jumping up and down and screaming like little girls. Good times all around. 3:21 mark.
January 21, 1997, Knicks @ Bulls
The famous "con-man" game, in which Jeff Van Gundy claimed that Jordan would pretend to be friends with other players and then kill them on the court. Anyone could have seen what came next from a mile away: 51 points, including some choice words for Jeff after a game-clinching jumper.
February 2, 1997, Bulls @ Sonics
George Karl apparently didn't get the memo either. Pre-game remarks that Jordan was just a "jump shooter" now, and seemed to be "protecting himself." The funny thing was, it was kind of true -- MJ was basically a jump shooter at that point in his career. That included jump shots from half court, apparently. 3:20 mark.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Thursday, September 10, 2009
MJ Moment No. 8
8. The scene: Game 7, 1998 Eastern Conference Finals against the Indiana Pacers. Chicago hadn't been pushed to a Game 7 since 1992 against the Knicks, and this was one of the few games in which I've felt more anxiety/stress than general enjoyment as I normally did whenever I would watch MJ play. However it had gotten to that point (a complete meltdown in Game 4 that had Phil invoking the 1972 Munich Olympics, including an unbelievably blatant push-off by Miller on his game-winning three, and then a no-call in Game 6 on the last play when Jordan had so obviously been tripped) -- there was nevertheless an uneasiness and uncertainty about the Bulls that I'd rarely seen in them during their three-year run since Jordan had returned from his first retirement.
It was that way much throughout the game, and even Jordan wasn't immune. His shot wasn't falling, and the Bulls were down by as much as 13 at one point, 5 with only a few minutes left. I can still distinctly remember sitting stock-still on my couch at one point, wondering in disbelief if Chicago's run at a sixth title and second three-peat was actually going to end this way.
After all, this wasn't 1992 anymore, when he tossed up a seemingly effortless 42 points as if on command, in leading the Bulls to a blow-out victory over the Knicks in that Game 7. Signs that age and fatigue were finally catching up to him had started to show throughout the year, and never had he looked more like a legend on his last, weary legs than in that series against Indiana.
And then, as he had so many times before, Jordan went to work. But this time, it wasn't the dunking, twisting through three defenders for an impossible lay-up, dropping jumpers from everywhere Jordan -- or what I like to call the "F*** you, I am taking over this game by myself and there's nothing you can do about it" Jordan (always good times when that Jordan would come out, by the way). It was the "F*** you, I don't have to be the hero, but we are not losing this game no matter what" Jordan.
And in an odd way, that Jordan was even more compelling and beautiful to watch. Putting his head down, driving into the lane, and getting absolutely killed by three Pacer defenders for a couple free throws. And then doing it again. And then again. Not hesitating for a moment to drop the ball off to Luc Longley (Luc Longley!) for a tie-breaking jumpshot. Out-fighting two Pacers on a missed free throw by Pippen for a critical offensive rebound. Absolutely sucking wind in the game's final moments, as gassed as I'd ever seen a man who for so many years had seemed indefatigable.
Talk of Jordan's competitiveness and "will to win" is always bandied about when people discuss the things that made him who he was. And even though this game is rarely remembered as one of his greatest games -- the countless game-winners and 50 point games being so much more satisfying and easier to recall and admire -- for me, at least, few games demonstrated that will to win in more stark or visceral a fashion than this one did.
It was that way much throughout the game, and even Jordan wasn't immune. His shot wasn't falling, and the Bulls were down by as much as 13 at one point, 5 with only a few minutes left. I can still distinctly remember sitting stock-still on my couch at one point, wondering in disbelief if Chicago's run at a sixth title and second three-peat was actually going to end this way.
After all, this wasn't 1992 anymore, when he tossed up a seemingly effortless 42 points as if on command, in leading the Bulls to a blow-out victory over the Knicks in that Game 7. Signs that age and fatigue were finally catching up to him had started to show throughout the year, and never had he looked more like a legend on his last, weary legs than in that series against Indiana.
And then, as he had so many times before, Jordan went to work. But this time, it wasn't the dunking, twisting through three defenders for an impossible lay-up, dropping jumpers from everywhere Jordan -- or what I like to call the "F*** you, I am taking over this game by myself and there's nothing you can do about it" Jordan (always good times when that Jordan would come out, by the way). It was the "F*** you, I don't have to be the hero, but we are not losing this game no matter what" Jordan.
And in an odd way, that Jordan was even more compelling and beautiful to watch. Putting his head down, driving into the lane, and getting absolutely killed by three Pacer defenders for a couple free throws. And then doing it again. And then again. Not hesitating for a moment to drop the ball off to Luc Longley (Luc Longley!) for a tie-breaking jumpshot. Out-fighting two Pacers on a missed free throw by Pippen for a critical offensive rebound. Absolutely sucking wind in the game's final moments, as gassed as I'd ever seen a man who for so many years had seemed indefatigable.
Talk of Jordan's competitiveness and "will to win" is always bandied about when people discuss the things that made him who he was. And even though this game is rarely remembered as one of his greatest games -- the countless game-winners and 50 point games being so much more satisfying and easier to recall and admire -- for me, at least, few games demonstrated that will to win in more stark or visceral a fashion than this one did.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
MJ Moment No. 9
9. Really a throwaway moment more than anything, but one I loved because it showed (1) how MJ always had fun with the game, even in ostensibly the most pressure-packed part of the year, and (2) the evolution of MJ and Scottie's relationship in their last few years together, into more of a friendship.
The scene: a joint press room interview with MJ and Pip, following Chicago's tight (and unusually ugly) Game 2 victory in the 1997 Eastern Conference Finals over the Miami Heat. Michael had played probably one of his worst playoff games ever, and Scottie hadn't done much better, but the Bulls had managed to eke it out in the final minutes on the strength of a couple late Jordan jumpshots.
What followed was high comedy.
Classic MJ. Seeing the two of them basically giggling like little schoolgirls still slays me to this day.
The scene: a joint press room interview with MJ and Pip, following Chicago's tight (and unusually ugly) Game 2 victory in the 1997 Eastern Conference Finals over the Miami Heat. Michael had played probably one of his worst playoff games ever, and Scottie hadn't done much better, but the Bulls had managed to eke it out in the final minutes on the strength of a couple late Jordan jumpshots.
What followed was high comedy.
Classic MJ. Seeing the two of them basically giggling like little schoolgirls still slays me to this day.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
My beloved Bears, my first true love, and a couple shout-outs.
It's been a hectic few months, and quite frankly, is as hectic as ever, but I felt compelled to re-engage here what with recent events. First, a few quick shout-outs.
To Caroline, one of my favorite people ever, as well as someone who helped me through the most difficult period of my life more than she likely knows, or will ever fully realize: a heartfelt congratulations on her beautiful baby boy! Quite honestly, just about every time that she would insist in years past that she didn't really want kids, I'd inwardly smile and roll my eyes, because if there was anything I was sure about -- having come to know her as I have over the last eighteen (!) years -- it was the fact that if she ever ended up having one, she'd be the most loving, doting mother ever. And what do you know? I was right.
To Deborah, the one person whom I can always count on to take a much-needed break with me from meet and confers, mediation briefs, and other such silliness -- a hearty congrats on her moving onto greener pastures, and concomitantly, more time to spend w/her two beautiful daughters. Difficult though I know the decision was, when one considers how fast those two little tots are growing up, not really a difficult a decision at all in the grand scheme of things. You'll be much missed, though it goes without saying that we'll be keeping in touch.
To my good friend Franklin: he recently acquired his very own ball and chain (just kidding JH! You know I love you!) and I can't begin to describe how genuinely happy I am for him. That the ball in chain in question happened to be a girl whom he secretly pined for throughout most of high school only makes it that much sweeter (insert picture here of me and Precious Flower patting ourselves smugly on the back for getting them to meet again, years later). Just as important through all this is how glad I am to have reconnected with him as I have. Sharing a cigar over a single malt and a companionable silence up by the lake -- that's longevity at its best.
Finally (for now, at least), to my older brother, Dr. Doolittle: without going into much detail, a simple and sincere thanks for being who he is, and all that he's doing of late. Words really can't express how proud or thankful I am to be able to call you my brother.
Now that the unabashedly sentimental drivel is out of the way, a couple more quick things.
First, my beloved Cal Bears, for whom it took about two and a half quarters against Maryland to erase any lingering anxieties I had about this unfolding season. At this point, I'm waging a full-on assault on the Wife that if we're blessed enough to have a son in the future, his name need be Jahvid. As for 2009-2010, I'll tread carefully as possible here so as to avoid jinxing anything...but let's just say that I've never quite been so confident. If there's anything that has me feeling the way I am, it's got to be that which I feel was somewhat overlooked in the midst of such a resounding opening-game victory: namely, the seemingly incredibly genuine way in which the players on the team were congratulating each other after this play or that. For all the pre-season talk of improved chemistry and whatnot, I’m not sure how much of it I really believed until I saw how genuinely everyone was congratulating each other. From Vereen and Best chest-bumping after every big run or touchdown, to the receivers’ reactions anytime one of them made a great catch -- it was awfully good to see, and one of those intangible things that I think just might add up to a pretty memorable year. Go Bears!
Last, but certainly not least: my first true love, who is 6'6", bald, black, and is entering the basketball Hall of Fame this Friday (what a shock). Even though the basketball Hall of Fame is considered somewhat of a farce, I thought this would nevertheless be a good time to look back on a guy I've never met, and probably never will meet - and yet was such an important part of my life during my formative years, in ways that often transcended mere basketball.
As a sidenote, I would venture that the last, which I'll expand upon in due time, may serve to sober some of my cheekier friends, who have long rolled their eyes at my seeming obsession with the man. Stay tuned on that...
So, in honor of MJ's induction into the Hall of Fame this Friday - and keeping in mind that these are my own particularly memorable personal experiences - I'll be counting down my top ten Michael Jordan memories over the next week or so. Here's number 10.
10. One of my biggest regrets in life was never getting to see Jordan play in person when he was on the Bulls, in his prime. It was a combination of factors - geographic location, being a poor student, etc. - but I still kick myself about it today. And so, when he came back to play for the Washington Wizards, I decided that seeing a 40 year old Jordan play in person (despite being half the player he used to be) was better than never seeing him play in person at all, and ventured to Oakland with my buddy Jessoo to catch the Wizards play the Warriors.
From the beginning, it was quite the spectacle. It wasn't all that surprising, in some ways, as I'd both seen and heard in the past how crazy people can get when it comes to Jordan. Still, it was somewhat jarring. Here we were in Oakland, California, for a completely meaningless regular season game between two pretty lousy teams. And yet it was sold out, with seemingly everyone -- and I mean everyone, from toddlers, to little girls, to 50 year old men -- wearing some type of Michael Jordan paraphanelia, with a buzz in the air that made it seem like it was Game 7 of the NBA Finals.
Once we were in our seats, that buzz seemed only to intensify, crescendoing when Jordan was announced in the starting lineups. Let's just say that even for me -- then at a point in my life where an ugly cynicism seemed to bleed into all that I said or did -- things got a little dusty (to steal one of the Sports Guy's favorite lines) when I heard, saw, and found myself fully participating in the crowd reaction to his introduction -- no exaggeration, a two to three minute standing ovation, with grins a mile wide seemingly everywhere you looked. And all this for an opposing player.
As big a Jordan fan as I'd grown to be over the years, it was only at that moment that I think I realized how much of a vacuum it had all happened in. I'd always been aware, if vaguely, of the purported impact that Jordan had on people around the world, but I'd never fully experienced it until that day. Seeing 20,000 people on their feet applauding and whistling for literally two to three straight minutes (and I'll tell you right now -- unless you've ever been a part of something like this, you simply do not realize how long a time that is for something as repetitive as simple applause)...seeing fathers hold up their kids -- boys and girls alike -- and excitedly point Jordan out...and perhaps most tellingly, finding myself and my buddy clapping right along with huge goofy grins on our faces, all cynicism and notions of being cool thrown by the wayside...well. Let's just say it was more than enough of an experience to wiggle itself into this particular Top 10.
To Caroline, one of my favorite people ever, as well as someone who helped me through the most difficult period of my life more than she likely knows, or will ever fully realize: a heartfelt congratulations on her beautiful baby boy! Quite honestly, just about every time that she would insist in years past that she didn't really want kids, I'd inwardly smile and roll my eyes, because if there was anything I was sure about -- having come to know her as I have over the last eighteen (!) years -- it was the fact that if she ever ended up having one, she'd be the most loving, doting mother ever. And what do you know? I was right.
To Deborah, the one person whom I can always count on to take a much-needed break with me from meet and confers, mediation briefs, and other such silliness -- a hearty congrats on her moving onto greener pastures, and concomitantly, more time to spend w/her two beautiful daughters. Difficult though I know the decision was, when one considers how fast those two little tots are growing up, not really a difficult a decision at all in the grand scheme of things. You'll be much missed, though it goes without saying that we'll be keeping in touch.
To my good friend Franklin: he recently acquired his very own ball and chain (just kidding JH! You know I love you!) and I can't begin to describe how genuinely happy I am for him. That the ball in chain in question happened to be a girl whom he secretly pined for throughout most of high school only makes it that much sweeter (insert picture here of me and Precious Flower patting ourselves smugly on the back for getting them to meet again, years later). Just as important through all this is how glad I am to have reconnected with him as I have. Sharing a cigar over a single malt and a companionable silence up by the lake -- that's longevity at its best.
Finally (for now, at least), to my older brother, Dr. Doolittle: without going into much detail, a simple and sincere thanks for being who he is, and all that he's doing of late. Words really can't express how proud or thankful I am to be able to call you my brother.
Now that the unabashedly sentimental drivel is out of the way, a couple more quick things.
First, my beloved Cal Bears, for whom it took about two and a half quarters against Maryland to erase any lingering anxieties I had about this unfolding season. At this point, I'm waging a full-on assault on the Wife that if we're blessed enough to have a son in the future, his name need be Jahvid. As for 2009-2010, I'll tread carefully as possible here so as to avoid jinxing anything...but let's just say that I've never quite been so confident. If there's anything that has me feeling the way I am, it's got to be that which I feel was somewhat overlooked in the midst of such a resounding opening-game victory: namely, the seemingly incredibly genuine way in which the players on the team were congratulating each other after this play or that. For all the pre-season talk of improved chemistry and whatnot, I’m not sure how much of it I really believed until I saw how genuinely everyone was congratulating each other. From Vereen and Best chest-bumping after every big run or touchdown, to the receivers’ reactions anytime one of them made a great catch -- it was awfully good to see, and one of those intangible things that I think just might add up to a pretty memorable year. Go Bears!
Last, but certainly not least: my first true love, who is 6'6", bald, black, and is entering the basketball Hall of Fame this Friday (what a shock). Even though the basketball Hall of Fame is considered somewhat of a farce, I thought this would nevertheless be a good time to look back on a guy I've never met, and probably never will meet - and yet was such an important part of my life during my formative years, in ways that often transcended mere basketball.
As a sidenote, I would venture that the last, which I'll expand upon in due time, may serve to sober some of my cheekier friends, who have long rolled their eyes at my seeming obsession with the man. Stay tuned on that...
So, in honor of MJ's induction into the Hall of Fame this Friday - and keeping in mind that these are my own particularly memorable personal experiences - I'll be counting down my top ten Michael Jordan memories over the next week or so. Here's number 10.
10. One of my biggest regrets in life was never getting to see Jordan play in person when he was on the Bulls, in his prime. It was a combination of factors - geographic location, being a poor student, etc. - but I still kick myself about it today. And so, when he came back to play for the Washington Wizards, I decided that seeing a 40 year old Jordan play in person (despite being half the player he used to be) was better than never seeing him play in person at all, and ventured to Oakland with my buddy Jessoo to catch the Wizards play the Warriors.
From the beginning, it was quite the spectacle. It wasn't all that surprising, in some ways, as I'd both seen and heard in the past how crazy people can get when it comes to Jordan. Still, it was somewhat jarring. Here we were in Oakland, California, for a completely meaningless regular season game between two pretty lousy teams. And yet it was sold out, with seemingly everyone -- and I mean everyone, from toddlers, to little girls, to 50 year old men -- wearing some type of Michael Jordan paraphanelia, with a buzz in the air that made it seem like it was Game 7 of the NBA Finals.
Once we were in our seats, that buzz seemed only to intensify, crescendoing when Jordan was announced in the starting lineups. Let's just say that even for me -- then at a point in my life where an ugly cynicism seemed to bleed into all that I said or did -- things got a little dusty (to steal one of the Sports Guy's favorite lines) when I heard, saw, and found myself fully participating in the crowd reaction to his introduction -- no exaggeration, a two to three minute standing ovation, with grins a mile wide seemingly everywhere you looked. And all this for an opposing player.
As big a Jordan fan as I'd grown to be over the years, it was only at that moment that I think I realized how much of a vacuum it had all happened in. I'd always been aware, if vaguely, of the purported impact that Jordan had on people around the world, but I'd never fully experienced it until that day. Seeing 20,000 people on their feet applauding and whistling for literally two to three straight minutes (and I'll tell you right now -- unless you've ever been a part of something like this, you simply do not realize how long a time that is for something as repetitive as simple applause)...seeing fathers hold up their kids -- boys and girls alike -- and excitedly point Jordan out...and perhaps most tellingly, finding myself and my buddy clapping right along with huge goofy grins on our faces, all cynicism and notions of being cool thrown by the wayside...well. Let's just say it was more than enough of an experience to wiggle itself into this particular Top 10.
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