If you were like a lot of people in a day and time with no sports to speak of, any sports coverage at all is welcome. Even water skiing squirrels on the Ocho.
ESPN for its part has delved into its massive library of film, reshowing title games and classic events once relegated to its forgotten sub-channel ESPN Classic. Without the usual bevy of sports programming, the company has struggled with maintaining viewership and ultimately the bottom line. How long these struggles for the network continue rely completely on the mitigation citizens adopt to stem the tide of the pandemic. Our track record on handling it thus far is far from promising.
One of the few buzz-worthy bright spots for ESPN has been the critically acclaimed miniseries The Last Dance, documenting (in sometimes painfully intricate detail) the career of Michael Jordan, with particular attention and focus on Jordan’s final season with the Chicago Bulls in 1997-1998.
Amazingly, the film crew had an all-access pass to much of the Bulls, from practices to off the court issues, much of it is laid bare, in sometimes unflattering light. But for most of the series, it ranks as a love letter to what most consider the greatest of all time. I admit I am no Jordan fan, I think his callous arrogance chafed my sensibilities about what a celebrity athlete should be. He’ll never be as classy as Peyton Manning, or as genuine as Magic Johnson, and certainly not as charitable as LeBron James.
With two episodes on Sunday, Jordan fans and content-starved sports fans had plenty to watch and discuss. But one thing in particular stuck out to me. Jordan is famous for his competitive nature, arguably one of the fiercest trash talkers of all time, and admittedly will do anything to win. But have you ever seen an athlete at his level be so petty and so bitter?
The man should sit back and enjoy his success. The Last Dance should be a celebration of that, allowing fans and non-fans alike to appreciate the man’s career and his legendary accomplishments. But just like he did in his HOF acceptance speech, here’s Michael Jordan settling old scores in the most trifling and pedantic way possible.
Everyone knows of the heated rivalry between the Bulls and the Pistons. It was a bitter feud, one that saw the Pistons refuse to shake the Bulls hands after the decisive game in the 1991 Eastern Conference finals. And here’s Jordan, nearly 30 years later, still bitter about it. “I hated them,. That hate carries over even to this day.”
What a pretentious spoiled child. Greatest player ever, but surely the sorest winner. It’s been 30 years, Mike. Let it go. But he won’t. He’ll harbor that disdain and anger until the day he dies, as a shriveled shell of a once glorious athlete, emaciated by the bitter petty pills he swallowed.
Maybe that’s why Jordan has failed at everything else other than basketball? Failed at marriage. Failed at social justice. Failed as a team owner. Hate is too strong a word, and too heavy to carry, and perhaps that bitterness and jealousy that drove him for his career is also what haunts him today.
So again… let it go Mike. For goodness sake, let it go.