Remembering Jordan’s ‘last dance’ from courtside

We knew he was good, but… Michael Jordan was only six games into his pro career. Six games. Of course, we knew of his precocious and prescient success at the University of North Carolina. Jordan was barely out of high school when he hit an at-the-buzzer game-winner to carry the Tar Heels to the 1982 NCAA national title over formidable Georgetown. Then we watched him own the Olympic stage in the summer of 1984, just before the NBA draft; he led the US team in scoring in a gold-medal rout in a display of unbridled talent and athleticism.

So, we knew he was good, but…

I was in my third season covering the NBA for

My beat was the New Jersey Nets, whose home at the Meadowlands sat just through the Lincoln Tunnel across the Hudson River. On this night, though, I was assigned to chronicle the Madison Square Garden debut of the wiry, tongue-wagging kid who was the third pick in the 1984 draft.

Back then, before Spike Lee, Jack Nicholson, other celebs and deep-pocketed tech kazillionaires sopped up all the courtside seats, we sat at tables directly next to the team’s bench. It was almost like being in the huddle, with all the sweat, curse words, and flying talcum powder we could handle.

The Bulls were pitiable before Jordan came to town, winning just 85 of 242 games over the previous three seasons. Just six games into 1984/85, though, as he stepped onto the Garden floor for the very first time, they were 4-2.

Those Knicks were horrible. Blame injury, mostly. Center Bill Cartwright would be out the entire season and future Hall of Famer Bernard King would miss 25 games. On this night, the Garden was full. On most nights, it was far from it. (The reward? Patrick Ewing, tapped No. 1 in 1985 in the controversial first-ever NBA lottery.)

Jordan, of course, owned the night. He played 33 minutes, finished with 33 points, 8 rebounds, 5 assists, 3 steals, and 2 blocked shots.

After the game, King, who scored a game-high 34 points, wondered how effective Jordan would be once he has gained experience.

“I’ll hate to see that,” King said that night, maybe somewhat prayerfully. “Maybe he’ll be in the Western Conference by then.”

For well over the next decade, I witnessed Jordan’s evolving greatness from a front-row seat - as a reporter, a sports columnist with the and an editor with

magazines. and

MICHAEL JORDAN’S greatness was always apparent to the generation that watched him play. But for those who can’t recall his playing days, the ‘Last Dance’ documentary has been enlightening.

I was asked to share memories of Jordan for “The Last Dance,” the 10-part docuseries on the Bulls 1997/98 season now airing on ESPN and Hulu. In Spring 2019, I received an email from director Jason Hehir. He told me about the series and asked if I’d participate. It was not a trick question.

In April 2019, we sat down in Atlanta, and for a few hours reminisced about an era, and player, the NBA has not seen since.

I saw Jordan play in person more times than I recall, interviewed him on countless occasions, and was one of many sports journalists who chronicled the NBA through its transition from an almost-niche sport whose championship games aired on tape delay to a being second only in global popularity to soccer.

Even that’s arguable.

My tenure began in 1979 when Julius “Doctor J” Erving and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar were the league’s transcendent stars and a couple of rookies from Lansing, Michigan and French Lick, Indiana were just embarking on what would be the sports best rivalry ever.

I was in the house as Magic Johnson and Larry Bird lifted the NBA into prime time. Only the Philadelphia 76ers (including Moses Malone’s 1983 “fo’ fo’ fo’” team) and Detroit’s “Bad Boys” Pistons (in 1989, 1990) were able to crack the decade-long championship rivalry between Johnson’s Los Angeles Lakers and Bird’s Boston Celtics.

A rivalry that lasted until Jordan, not until his seventh season, finally pulled the Bulls from the clenches of the Bad Boys in the Eastern Conference and reached the 1991 NBA Finals, where Chicago routed Magic and the Lakers 4-1 and Jordan cried over his first championship trophy.

By then, I was a senior editor at directing our NBA coverage. I was also at the magazine in 1994 when produced, in my view, one of its most embarrassing covers – a story on Jordan’s unique season in minor-league baseball in Birmingham. Over an image of Jordan swinging and missing (Truthfully, he often did; he struck out 114 times with the Barons), the mag declared “Bag It, Michael.” It added: “Michael Jordan and the White Sox are Embarrassing Baseball.”

The cover so incensed Jordan he vowed to never speak with anyone from the magazine again. He didn’t.

In June 1998, Jordan and the Bulls were grinding through the final stages of the season Chicago Coach Phil Jackson dubbed “The Last Dance” - and I was working elsewhere. Before the season, Bulls GM Jerry Krause told Jackson that, despite winning five championships, 199798 would be his last year as head coach. Jordan vowed never to play for another coach in Chicago.

By then Jordan and the Bulls were the Beatles, drawing sellout crowds and inspiring adulation anywhere and everywhere. Jordan was the most famous athlete on the planet and the richest – by far. He drove ticket sales in sports arenas, sneaker and jersey sales (still does), and even filled movie theaters. (“Space Jam,” which premiered in 1996 with Jordan in the starring role, has grossed more than $230 million worldwide.)

I was a senior editor at when I thought of trying to calculate Jordan’s impact on the American economy. Where better than at the nation’s premier business magazine? It took more than a month, and we interviewed a flotilla of economists, industry leaders, and Wall Street experts. We called it, “The Jordan Effect.”

The final tally: $10 billion. That was 22 years ago. Like anyone who covered the NBA during the Jordan era, I’m often asked to describe my favorite MJ moment. I witnessed many staggering plays and momentous “moments,” but my favorite didn’t occur on a basketball court. Well, not quite.

It happened in the corner of the gym at the Bulls practice facility on March 10, 1986. The previous October, Jordan, in his second season, suffered a broken bone in his foot and had not played since. Not in an NBA game, at least.

Like many great athletes, he pushed the limits during rehab, and on February 20, against the wishes of the Bulls and agent David Falk, Jordan played two hours of fullcourt basketball back at his alma mater, the University of North Carolina. The Bulls and Falk still did not want him to return, but also like many great athletes, Jordan was itchy and defiant.

On the morning we met he passed a strength test and was given the green light to return by the team physician. What was unique – almost unbelievable – about the day, and why it is my favorite, is that no one else was there to speak with Jordan. Not another single reporter. No cameras. No microphones. The man would become the most famous athlete on the planet and he sat with me, in the corner of the gym, talking.

I occasionally crossed paths with Jordan after he retired for the third and final time – and I moved on from sports journalism. That morning in an empty gym almost always came up. “Remember that day?” We’d both nod. “That was a long time ago,” Jordan usually said. Long before we finally knew. How good he was. How truly great. (Alabama Media Group/TNS)