|
|
||
Date published: 4/16/2003 By ADAM HIMMELSBACH WASHINGTON--When it's a legend squeaking his sneakers on a hardwood floor, a legend along the lines of a Paul Bunyan or a Robin Hood, things are done a little differently. So it was with Michael Jordan during this, his final season in the NBA. On the court, Jordan was like any other player. No, the No. 23 Washington Wizards jersey never looked quite right. Kind of like if a postman delivered mail in a firefighter's suit. But Jordan's play made his polyester an afterthought. It was once he left the guarded confines of nets and rims and backboards that another barrier went up. So step into MCI Center for a minute and take a long look at Michael Jordan. This is your last chance. When Jordan takes his seat at the end of the bench, security guards move in. Amateur paparazzi, often wearing jerseys of the man they seek, swoop past the bench for a quick snapshot. They're usually caught in the act. After the game, behind closed doors, the chicanery begins. In the locker room, Jerry Stackhouse and Kwame Brown and the other Wizards are rolling their deodorant, buttoning their shirts and tying their ties. Jordan's locker sits next to Juan Dixon's. Wait, where's Mike? Oh, he's never by that cubby at this hour. Ready to reclaim his partial ownership of the Wizards at season's end, Jordan is basically playing with guys who are playing for him. And that's made the situation uncomfortable at times. It's fine to laugh in your best friend's face if he slips on a banana peel, but if it's your boss, you'd pinch your side, keep a straight face and help him up. So while the other Wizards joke and carry on, Jordan is off in a private room with trainers, friends and public relations gurus. Or maybe he's off in a phone booth pulling on a cape. A couple of guys in suits and another in wind pants stroll out of Jordan's room in a secret-service kind of way. That's the warning. Cameramen jostle for position. Reporters check their tapes and grab some extra ink. Then he appears. If it was a movie, there'd be a golden glow hovering above with a choir humming in the background.
1. Be respectful. No personal attacks.
|
|
|||||||||||||