MJ

I didn't want to discuss this on the day it happened, for obvious reasons, but I must take a moment to congratulate Michael Jeffrey Jordan on his induction into the Basketball Hall of Fame.

Michael Jordan was, is, and forever will be the greatest basketball player in the universe.

It is impossible to put into words what Michael Jordan meant to the game of basketball and what he meant to Chicago sports fans. His era--no, not the era in which he played--was something that I don't know will ever be paralleled. Even if my Cubbies ever win the World Series, I still don't think it will be the same.

As a fan of any sport, I have never had the kind of assurance that my team was going to win the way I did during Michael's era. Err, that is, once the spell of the Detroit Pistons was finally broken. And, there was that first partial season back from retirement, the last regrettable play of which was a generous Jordan feed to the fat and regrettable Luc Longley. But let's not dwell there.

Okay, I'll dwell there for just a second longer, just to say this. I will never forget the date I bought my Les Paul. March 18, 1995. What does this have to do with basketball, you ask? Well, as I was driving out of the Guitar Center lot with my new guitar, I turned on the radio and was greeted by two words. "I'm back."

For each of the six years of the era of Michael that the Bulls won the championship, you just knew they were going to win the championship. You just knew it. It was not not going to happen.

I remember during the '97 finals against the Jazz, the day of game 5. The series was tied 2-2, with the Jazz having won games 3 and 4. My boss was worried because momentum seemed to be going the way of Utah. "Relax," I told her. "This is Michael Jordan we're talking about. We're going to win."

That night, Jordon scored 38 points. With the stomach flu. The Bulls won that night, and the next. Done deal.

I won't go all girly describing his numerous other superhuman plays and feats, including the last basket he ever made as a Bull.



Oops, how'd that get there?

I'm also not going to dwell too much on his personal life. Like most professional athletes, he's had flaws a plenty, and he's done plenty of things that have disappointed me or ticked me off. I'd rather not go there right now. I'd rather just sit here in amazement and think that Chicago, my home town, the town whose professional teams just don't win, plain and simple (what, you expect some love from me for the South Side Apemen?), once had this man. And I got to watch him. I got to watch his entire career as a Bull. Like the song says, they can't take that away from me.