Narratives in Real Time
Recently my wife and I went to see a Portland Trail Blazers game. We’d been living in Portland for about a year or so and we had yet to actually go see any of the local sports teams. Mind you, Portland has no major-league level baseball or football teams. They do have a soccer team but neither of us is that much of a soccer fan. Basketball however has been an interest of mine since childhood. I played a lot of basketball, almost entirely pickup. I never tried out for my high school team, but I did spend a lot of time playing pickup games with people who did.
I also grew up during a great time to watch basketball. When I was a child, the ABA was still around with its red white and blue basketballs, three-point line, and players with names like World B. Free. I got to watch Dr. J win slamdunk titles. I got to watch some of the great matchups between the Celtics and the Lakers, Larry Bird and Magic Johnson. But when I was in high school, Michael Jordan arrived on the scene.
Part of what made Jordan a phenomenal player is that he had in the intrinsic understanding of drama. Whether it came down to his own ability to make the key shot his team needed in the clutch, or just his overpowering will to win. I’m not sure how to explain it. For me it all comes down to one perfect example. Jordan had already retired once and had his ill-fated major-league baseball career. But when he returned to the Chicago Bulls, they had already retired his number 23. Well, Jordan could’ve taken that’s number back and continued his career, but Jordan being Jordan he wanted to establish a new legacy for himself and so he took number 46 instead.
Even Jordan was human however, and the time he’d spent away from basketball eroded his skills in conditioning. As a matter fact, I don’t think he even played the full season that year. It’s been a while, and I’m afraid I don’t quite recall. I could look all of this up, but I think it’s more interesting for purposes of story to talk about how I remember what happened. When it comes to story, especially the stories of our lives and our memories, how we remember what happened is at least as important as what actually happened. So, at the end of one of the playoff games in a fairly early round, Jordan did something he had never done this whole career: he gave up a steal that cost an important game. By which I mean, late in a close playoff game a player from the opposing team stole the ball from Michael Jordan and was able to score and win.
In a postgame interview, the player who stole the ball said, “The fact is that Jordan’s lost a step. Could I have stolen that ball from number 23? No. But from number 46…“ He didn’t even finish that sentence in words. He snapped his fingers dismissively as though to say that Michael Jordan is not worth noticing.
Jordan noticed. Jordan did not reply in the newspapers not that I can recall anyway. But I was certain that the king of basketball drama had to respond and up the ante. When the time came for the next game I tuned in for the pregame and warm-ups. Nothing special happened then, not until we got to the introductions. They introduced the players one by one, the lights down over the packed house in Chicago. Spotlights only on the players in the warm-up jackets and sweats they wore over their uniforms. As each player’s name was called he took off his jacket. Well, when they got to Jordan and announced “Number 46, Michael Jordan!” He ripped off his warm-up jacket threw it on the ground. There he stood in his jersey: number 23.
There was a palpable moment of silence and then the entire stadium erupted. I swear it clipped the microphones it was so loud. And the look on Jordan’s face… in his eye was death for his opponents. There could be no doubt that Jordan was about to play a game unlike any he had played before. Now mind you Jordan was no younger, he was no faster, and he had nothing going for him that he didn’t have the game before. But that isn’t quite true, he had one thing: motivation. You don’t get to be a world-class athlete unless you have an ego that fills a room and by a room I mean a stadium. If you look at the greats of any sport you’ll see it. Jordan was no exception here. His pride had been offended on a deep deep level and he intended to make his opponents pay. He played a fantastic game that night. I don’t remember the details, I’m afraid. I just remember sitting on the edge of my seat for all 48 minutes amazed at what I was watching. Jordan wiped the floor with his opposition that night and his team did beat their opponents in that series. But the Bulls were not strong enough. Jordan was still out of shape and the Bulls did not progress any further in the playoffs that year.
Jordan got in trouble for that little stunt. The NBA has rules against players doing things like that. But none of that mattered beside what Jordan did that night.
We don’t get to write our own endings in life. But when we try, sometimes we get to write scenes.
