This is the first in a series of columns about Michael “Air” Jordan written by Woody Paige.
Michael and me.
At the NBA All-Star weekend in 2007, Los Angeles Times sports columnist J.A. Adande, who has been a long-time colleague of mine on the daily ESPN show “Around The Horn,’’ ran into Michael Jordan and said hello.
Jordan replied: “How’s my boy?’’
Adande wondered who Michael meant.
“Woody Paige,’’ Jordan said.
Yes, that is bizarre, more so to me than you.
Somehow, though, over the years, Michael and I have connected and become friends.
Thus, when ESPN began Sunday night the 10-part docuseries titled “The Last Dance’’ about Jordan’s life and, especially, his sixth, and final, NBA championship, I was riveted to the same sofa I’ve sat at for more than 40 days and 40 nights during the quarantining provoked by the coronavirus.
I truly wanted to see the series, which, as the first two shows proved, others wanted to view, too. More than six million people tuned in Sunday, and next Sunday likely will draw as many viewers, particularly including kids and young people who actually never were able to enjoy ‘His Airness’ in real time.
I was at Michael’s last championship dance. I also covered Michael’s national championship dance with North Carolina, his first championship dance with the Chicago Bulls, his Olympic championship dance with “The Dream Team’’ and most of his dances in NBA championship games. I also covered Michael when he played minor-league baseball and when he played in golf tournaments and even when he played Yahtzee for money, and we’ve had a beer or two at the blackjack table in Monte Carlo and a glass of wine in a golf clubhouse in Lake Tahoe.
Weird.
Let’s start with Dec. 31, 1999, when the world was about to enter a new millennium. My lady friend and I were on a ship in the Gatun Lake of the Panama Canal. Seemed to be a good place to get away from everything with Y2K, considering that some thought Jan. 1, 2000, would be the end of the world as we know it.
We were getting dressed in formal wear to go to dinner and a special show featuring husband-and-wife Billy Davis Jr. and Marilyn McCoo of the famed “Fifth Dimension.’’ We shared a bottle of champagne in the room while a television set randomly turned to the ESPN network droned on in the background.
She screeched: “You’re on TV.’’
“Sure,’’ I said sarcastically.
But I turned around, and she was right. I was on the screen talking about Michael Jordan, who had just been named the athlete of the century.
Why Michael and me?
I discussed (from an interview session months earlier) Game 5 of the Chicago Bulls-Utah Jazz NBA Finals on June 11, 1997, and Jordan’s plight that night.
It was the famed “Flu Game.’’
He was questionable to play in the game that night in Salt Lake City because of a wicked case of the flu or, perhaps as his trainer later claimed, food poisoning (from a pizza delivered the night before to his hotel room).
Two hours before the game, I strolled outside the back of the arena to breathe fresh Utah air and sat on the employees’ picnic-break table.
A cab pulled up several feet away; Jordan unfolded and got out, and he walked in the direction of the door. I said hello and asked, naturally, “How you feeling?’’, thinking I might have a fortunate scoop of some sort. “Not so good,’’ Michael said. Then he slumped and added: “Pardon me.’’
The most legendary man in sports walked around the corner of the building into the darkness, and I could hear him vomiting against the wall.
Not so good.
Michael returned and somewhat collected himself. I said something like: “I hope you feel better,’’ and he walked hesitantly into the arena to get to the Bulls locker room.
In the first quarter Jordan struggled mightily, and, of course, the Bulls would, too. The Jazz took a 16-point lead at one juncture as Michael grabbed his shorts between plays and, at the bench during timeouts, had ice packs applied to his forehead. He looked awful, and I was thinking he probably needed to throw up more.
However, in the second period, Michael apparently called on a reserve of strength and passion. He scored 17 points and took control.
The game was close for much of the rest of the way, going back and forth, until Michael lasered a three-pointer in the last minute to put the Bulls ahead for the duration. Chicago won, 90-88.
Jordan finished with 38 points, 7 rebounds, 5 assists, 3 steals and 1 blocked shot in one of the most miraculous performances in the NBA’s history.
Afterward, in the crowded Bulls locker room, I was able to ask one question of Michael: “How you feeling?’’
He offered a slight smile that I’ve appreciated for more than 30 years: “Not so good. But we won.’’
On New Year’s Eve on ESPN I described that story of Michael — and me.
More from The Woody Paige Sports Network:
- Woody Paige: Six-time Olympic medalist Amy Van Dyken-Rouen glad 2020 Games postponed
- Woody Paige: Latest John Elway comeback off to a good start for Broncos
- Betting odds to be the New England Patriots Week 1 QB in 2020
- It’s time for the final buzzer to sound on 2019-20 NBA, NHL seasons
