‘The Last Dance’ empties our bench of emotions
My favorite takeaway from watching the first four episodes of “The Last Dance” isn’t Michael Jordan’s cursing or all the behind-the-scenes locker room footage, or the unneeded reminder why I still hate the Detroit Pistons.
No, it’s reliving the Chicago Bulls’ dynasty days with a new dance partner, and I’ll bet many other viewers feel the same way. Maybe it’s with your grandchildren who weren’t yet born when the Bulls won those six championships.
Or with your children who weren’t old enough to appreciate those fabled years during the 1990s. Or, like me, maybe you’re with someone new, allowing you both to relive that era together.
ESPN’s 10-part miniseries, which continues Sunday with episodes 5 and 6, consistently scores easy layups with its cultural nostalgia for viewers of a certain age. My repeated response while watching the first four episodes has been, “Remember that?”
The Bulls’ theme song, “Sirius” by the Allan Parsons Project, audibly reintroduces us to those Bulls teams in our memories. The instrumental’s 115-second echo-laden synthesizer loop still gives me goosebumps when it’s played in the documentary.
The now-iconic song is from the British progressive rock band’s 1982 album, “Eye in the Sky,” a viewpoint that’s provided by this documentary because we already know how the Bulls’ last championship turns out. And we’re now able to see the bigger picture behind all the players, the dramas, and the games.
While watching footage of the Detroit Pistons players walking off the court after being swept by the Bulls in the Eastern Conference finals, I blurted out, “They sure were (expletives).”
Seconds later in the episode, former Bulls power forward Horace Grant told viewers the Pistons were “straight-up b- - - - es.”
I laughed out loud with my fiancé and her 21-year-old son, who’s living those glory days through this miniseries. He didn’t realize that Michael Jordan – who’s still a global superstar and the best player in the history of the game (according to me) – cursed so openly and often. Such a peek into the man behind the mystique reminded me of that tell-all book, “Sweetness,” about Chicago Bears’ superstar Walter Payton.
Do we, as fans, prefer to know everything about these players, or only what they do on the baseball field or basketball court or baseball diamond or hockey rink? I prefer knowing all the revealing details, which fleshes them out as humans instead of simply glorifying them as sports heroes.
I’m still touched by Jordan weeping like a boy as he clutched his first Larry O’Brien Trophy in 1991, as his father stood by his side. I’m newly touched by hearing accounts from former players who were just as moved as I was when it happened. They didn’t know that side of Jordan. They knew only Jordan the fearless, demanding warrior.
It was reassuring to hear that he was profoundly crushed when the Bulls lost to the hated Pistons in 1990. That game 7 loss felt like a basketball to the nose for Bulls fans who hoped their young team could make it to the NBA Finals.
“I was devastated, I was absolutely devastated,” Jordan tells viewers in the documentary. “I cried on the bus.”
I loved hearing his candid recollection about that tender moment. It didn’t reflect “His Airness,” the most ruthless player to ever palm a basketball. It revealed his humanness, the most determined player to ever will his teams to victory.
Each episode of “The Last Dance” adds more depth, details and context to a story that some of us know better than our own personal stories. I’d struggle to recall the names of my closest friends during those Bulls dynasty days. But I can name most of the no-name role players from those Bulls teams.
All I need is a snippet of video to blurt out their names. Craig Hodges. Jack Haley. Bill Wennington. B.J. Armstrong. They’re all like old friends I’ve never met.
I also was a big fan of former Bulls coach Doug Collins, as was Jordan. I was livid when the team replaced him with the lanky hippie, Phil Jackson, as was Jordan, not knowing the Zen master would be exactly what those championship teams of massive egos needed. They needed to learn how to complement Jordan on the court, not only to compliment him off the court.
I remember feeling bad for Collins, who was left at the pier as his ship set sail for the new world of cultural stardom and NBA dominance. The day he was fired, a TV anchor told viewers one of the funniest lines from the documentary: “If you’re getting ready for work today, you’re probably not Doug Collins.” I laughed out loud when I heard it.
I felt similar anger when the Bulls traded Charles Oakley, the team’s enforcer, for Bill Cartwright, the big man they needed to advance.
Like most fans, I repeatedly blamed the late general manager Jerry Krause until I repeatedly praised him for his cunning moves. I never liked Krause, but I respected him (unlike those Pistons teams).
This full court of emotions emptied the bench as I watched the first four episodes of the documentary. With the pandemic and its social ramifications closing down live sports indefinitely, I’m embracing “The Last Dance” more than I would have otherwise.
I’m savoring each snippet of memorable games, locker room trash talking, off-court dramas and present-day recollections from players.
To relive all this again with new teammates in my home makes the end of each episode feel like a threepoint play.