"If I had the chance to do it all over again, I would never want to be considered a role model. It's like a game that's stacked against me. There's no way I can win." _ Michael Jordan, in Episode 6 of the ESPN Films documentary series "The Last Dance"
You're left to process those words, digesting the sentiment but perplexed by it.
You understand where that thought process stems from, aware of the intense pressure and incomparable fatigue that came with being Michael Jordan. With pursuing excellence. With living every day amid a constant swarm. With establishing a pristine reputation and fighting to keep your flaws from surfacing.
Still ...
A stacked game? With no way to win? And no desire to be considered a role model?
Suddenly you feel a need to object.
Maybe now is the appropriate time to acknowledge you're not a completely unbiased passenger on this joyride down memory lane "The Last Dance" is providing. Not by a long shot. Jordan was your boyhood idol. And you were far from alone.
You were 7 when the Bulls drafted MJ, a first-grader on the Northwest Side falling hard for basketball. And you were 21 when he played his final game as a Bull, that unforgettable Friday night in Salt Lake City in 1998.
Which means "The Last Dance" has been taking you back through meaningful parts of your childhood.
And adolescence.
And early adulthood.
You had forgotten what these adrenaline rushes felt like. How Jordan's game was equal parts majestic and ruthless. How it felt to loathe the Pistons and later the Knicks.
Most of all, you had forgotten the presence Jordan had within your life.
In your bedroom, he was much of the wallpaper _ all of those Sports Illustrated covers, the felt pennants, the 6-foot-tall poster of MJ dunking over Kenny Walker.
He was your screen time too. You had "NBA Superstars" at the top of the VHS tower and always felt a certain excitement every time the transition from Larry Bird's highlight montage to Jordan's began.
You wore out "Come Fly With Me" in your VCR too, so much so that for more than 30 years now, you've been randomly mixing the "He dunked on Mel Turpin" anecdote into casual conversations. Just for kicks.
He looked over at the guy and said, "Was he big enough?"
