So, he didn't make it after all. Michael Jordan failed to qualify for the NBA playoffs in what is (supposedly, at least) his last season as a basketball player. There was no fairytale ending, no last hurrah for the man that had managed to produce constantly physical wizardry throughout his career.
Some quarters say that Michael Jordan failed, miserably. In his valiant attempt to put a mediocre team on his shoulders, he destroyed his own legacy. Detractors point to the fact that he lowered his career scoring average (although he managed to nudge ahead of Wilt Chamberlain for the all-time career scoring record, at 30.2 points per game), showed his human fragility when he was forced to cut his season short last year and ultimately had a negative impact on a young team that was too intimidated by playing with impatient Air Jordan himself. He should have stayed home and drank his six-pack while watching Kobe Bryant equal his record of scoring 40 or more points in nine consecutive games.
But, to level all these criticisms at Jordan is to miss the competitive essence that the man embodied. No matter whether or not one is a fan of basketball, everybody can relate to competitiveness. After all, isn't life about competition? Competition for college entry, graduate schools, jobs, scholarships -- the list goes on and on. In taking human competitiveness to another level, Michael Jordan ignited a fire inside of him that so many of us can never hope to spark. He was so damn competitive that once, when he dunked on 6-0 John Stockton in the 1987-88 season, on the next possession he dunked on the 7-1 Jazz center, Mel Turpin, in order to answer the chants of a heckler who asked him to "pick on someone his own size." This was the person who recently said, "My effort is always going to be young. My desire to win is always going to be young. My love for the game is always going to be young. My body may say 40, but those other things are going to be young always," after he became the first 40 year old in the NBA to score 40 or more points.
When I was in my teenage years, I was mesmerized by Jordan on the court. I didn't have lofty dreams of playing in the NBA, of flying through the air for a tomahawk dunk in front of a mass of screaming, adoring fans. What I admired most about the man was his desire to win, his unbridled passion for challenges. I never really quite understood the complicated tactics on the court, or the internal politicking within the championship winning teams that he carried to six straight NBA titles. I just saw him as an individual -- just like you and me -- who was somehow so much more motivated than me. His competitiveness was something that I tried to emulate. His desire to win, and, most importantly, to make the sacrifices needed to do so, simply took my breath away. How did he manage to motivate himself, from the day-to-day games to the larger challenges, to bring himself up to give his best effort? Surely this man -- mortal like all of us -- should have some downtime?
This article is not a star-struck tribute to Jordan. He was imperfect in many ways; his derogatory remarks towards the teammates that he perceived to be inferior in ability is widely documented. His extra-marital affair shattered the image of a family man that many of us had come to associate with him. His failures as the Wizard's General Manager in terms of scouting and picking talent are obvious. There were so many
Rather, this is a tribute to the man's sheer competitiveness, which in turn gave rise to a human will like no other. I'm definitely no Michael Jordan, but I wonder whether I'll ever be able to match one-tenth of his desire to win. I wonder if I'll ever be able to motivate myself to reach that level of desire and competitiveness that will focus all my efforts on the attainment of a particular goal. I've fought for a lot of things in life (getting a scholarship to come to a foreign land was one of them) but nothing I will ever do will match the man's sheer level of effort and sacrifice.
Along these lines, one thinks of Lance Armstrong, who came back to win the Tour de France after a bout of testicular cancer. I think of the single mothers I saw in the homeless shelter in Jacksonville, fighting to bring up their kids. I think of disabled athletes, of the migrant Chinese that came to Singapore with nothing in their pockets in pursuit of a dream.
Sure, there might be the sour aftertaste in the mouth, like the game-winning shots he missed this season. However, to focus on such trivialities would be to miss the point. Michael Jordan's legacy is not predicated upon the last-minute shots and those gravity-defying dunks; instead, his actions simply embodied the fact that he was more of a competitor.
What separates him from the ordinary man on the street is his desire to win, and his utmost willingness to make whatever sacrifices are necessary in his pursuit of success.
