Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: THURSDAY, October 7, 1993 TAG: 9310070210
SECTION: SPORTS PAGE: B-1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: BY JACK BOGACZYK LANDMARK NEWS SERVICE
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
"I can."
See, art doesn't always imitate life. As many times as Jordan asked himself that question in recent months, that camera always lied. For Michael Jordan, life just couldn't be as simple as swishing that studio free throw.
Jordan's retirement from the NBA champion Chicago Bulls was stunning, but then, what's new? In recent years, Jordan's life - be he gambling on the golf course or flagging down a sports apparel logo at the Olympics - has mirrored his game in that it's been played above the rim.
When his father was murdered in July, Jordan got our sympathy, but only after a notion was bounced around that perhaps his father was horribly paying his famous son's gambling debts. Now - although a man who receives $40 million annually from endorsements wouldn't seem to need much - Jordan has become even more of a tragic figure.
He led the Bulls to three consecutive titles. He averaged a record 32.3 points during his nine-year pro career. He owns two Olympic gold medals. He was part of an NCAA championship team at North Carolina, was the college player of the year, the NBA rookie of the year and a three-time Most Valuable Player.
What Jordan loves most of all, however, is the competition. And going one-on-one with fame was much tougher than facing the Cleveland Cavaliers in the playoffs or walking away from his $3.9 million annual salary.
Jordan's retirement has been sneaking up on the NBA for several years. We just refused to recognize that the end was near, because Jordan played the game with his tongue stuck out at the world. In leaving the court, Jordan, 30, finally showed something he rarely did on the floor.
He's human. Hmmmm, do you think the Portland Trail Blazers may have been onto something after all, when, with the second pick of the draft in 1984, they took Sam Bowie over Jordan?
Being a trailblazer isn't easy. In a January 1990 visit to the Charlotte Coliseum, Jordan sat before a Bulls-Hornets game and said, "You know, one of the things I miss most is being able to go to a park or a playground and just play basketball."
Already, even before he hung championship banners in Chicago Stadium, Jordan was a prisoner of his success. He couldn't just go to a restaurant. He had to open one. Not since Muhammad Ali has an athlete palmed the public like Jordan has. He's brought Beatlemania to basketball.
From the City of Broad Shoulders, Jordan carried more than his team. If Larry Bird and Magic Johnson combined their unselfish greatness and rivalry to save the NBA, Jordan - he of the 48-inch vertical leap - toted the league to unexpected heights.
He single-handedly elevated the fortunes of a shoe company. He made Bulls apparel something to wear - even in China, where Jordan is the most popular athlete and his former team, with its snorting logo, came to popularity known as the "Red Oxen."
Even as he snubbed a White House trip with teammates for a golf date in Hilton Head, even as he wrote a $57,000 check to convicted money-launderer Slim Bouler, even as he supposedly lost $1.2 million on golf wagering to Richard Esquinas, even as he perhaps kept Isiah Thomas off the Dream Team, even as he battled the NBA over the use of his likeness on All-Star T-shirts, kids wanted to be like Mike.
That's because Jordan the player was special. He was different. He was the best. As a kid, I saw Oscar Robertson's greatness from courtside. He was the best. He averaged triple-doubles for two NBA seasons with the Cincinnati Royals.
The game is different now. So is my opinion. On nights when Jordan's offense waned - when he had only 25 points - he willed, passed and defended the Bulls to success. He not only scored 21,541 points, he also made the NBA's All-Defensive team five of the last six seasons.
However, we can't say we'll never see another Jordan again - because we might see Jordan himself again. If he misses the game enough, the career of a man nicknamed "Air" may merely be suspended.
Certainly, Jordan's exit transfers the balance of power in the Eastern Conference and figures to leave the Bulls under more than the salary cap. Suddenly, the Western Conference has a shot at its first NBA championship since 1988. In the Windy City, where there's no truth to the rumor that Jordan retired to make room for Toni Kukoc in the starting lineup, they're waiting to see how good Scottie Pippen really is.
The death of Jordan's father was the final confirmation that life can seem just as fleeting as fame. Jumping through hoops has been fun, but Jordan is tired of walking on air.
His legacy in the game will never come down to earth. Nor should it.
by CNB