A Yearly Reminder of One of Life's Cooler Moments

Tonight is the MLB All Star game, and its a yearly reminder of one of the coolest days of my life. Since I've handled most of what needed to be done today, I figured I'd share the story. Besides, there's nothing on TV tonight and this might be a welcome distraction.

I grew up a basketball nut, continue to be a basketball nut, and love the game. I grew up going with my father and brother to Bulls games beginning around 1982, and my father continues to trudge down to the United Center 25+ times a year for Bulls games. You don't need to be a basketball historian to know that the prime of my childhood included the Bulls dominance, and watching my favorite team win six titles was a dream. I realize there are other sports dynasties out there, but the Bulls in the late 80's and 90's were the coolest team on the planet.

I spent hours on my parents' driveway, re-enacting great plays and dreaming up scenarios in which I played the role of Michael Jordan, Scottie Pippen, and other favorites. In hindsight, neighbors (and family members) must have thought I was crazy as I played simulated games against imaginery players, but maybe that's what young kids are supposed to do.

During high school, I played competitively for my first two years, but decided around age 15 that I lost my love for playing and was interested in "other things." I don't regret that decision--I was never more than a scrappy small forward and probably didn't have much of a future as a player. I continued to follow the game, and after college I began coaching Junior High and other youth basketball and gradually got back in to playing "serious" basketball with some of my fellow coaches on Tuesday nights.

Most pickup games are a chance for guys to take crappy jump shots, play lazy defense, and use it as a way to get some exercise. But Tuesday nights were different. These games were intense, with guys playing legitimate defense, taking good shots, and sharing the basketball. It is the way the game is meant to be played, and for a group of coaches it was a dream to be part of them.

On July 9, 2002, I was working at the CBOT and had a meeting at DePaul that evening that was in direct conflict with our game. I called "The General" (the ringleader of Tuesday night hoops) in the morning to let him know I wasn't going to be able to make it, and his response was something to the effect of, "You cannot miss tonight. Whatever you have going on, you need to cancel it."

I mentioned something about a Board meeting at DePaul, when he told me, "I'm playing golf with MJ this afternoon and he'll be there tonight. You cannot tell the other guys, you cannot tell your family or friends, but trust me, he'll be there. I just don't want anyone showing up who isn't playing."

Originally stunned, I thought this was a cruel joke to make sure there were 10 guys at the game, but The General does not mince words, and I knew he and Michael Jordan had some connection from Jordan's Flight School Camp in Las Vegas. I hung up the phone, laughed to myself, and despite the General's warning immediately called my brother and dad to let them know. After telling them, I told all of my co-workers, and frantically watched the lower right portion of my computer screen until it was time to head home and get ready for Tuesday night hoops. I did keep my word and didn't tell the other "regular" guys who played on Tuesday nights, but was chuckling inside at the thought of sharing a basketball court with Michael Jordan.

It was a steaming hot day in the middle of the summer, and the gym we played in (the former Karger Recreation Center) was about 20 miles north of Chicago in Highland Park. As I walked in to the gym, I noticed guys doing their usual routine--stretching, shooting, and BSing about what had been going on since last Tuesday. I chit chatted with Brian and Ben (two guys close to my age), and it was clear they had no idea what was going on. As the clock approached 7 PM, I saw a red Ferrari pull up to the parking lot outside the gym and my heart began to race. Brian and Ben (and all of the others) didn't pay attention to it, but I knew what was coming.

A few moments later, the General walked in to the gym with Michael Jordan and the reaction in the gym was priceless. Every eyeball in the gym watched the two of them (in golf clothes) head in to the gym to get ready for a night we'd never forget. All of us had sh*t-eating grins on our faces, and I was legitimately nervous that I'd be sharing a basketball with the greatest player in the history of the game.

Jordan undressed (and dressed) in front of everyone, and a few guys made their way over to introduce themselves to him. I had obviously watched him in person and on television thousands of times, but it was really bizarre to see him in the flesh just a few feet away. I had no idea what to call the guy...do I call him Michael? MJ? Mr. Jordan? and decided that I'd call him what I call anyone I don't know, "Dude." Besides, this was our game he was joining and I shouldn't treat him different than any other random guy who occasionally joined the fray.

As he was stretching, I walked over to him, extended my hand and mumbled, "Hey dude, my name's Dan, its good to meet you." I have no idea what he said to me, but I said something about coaching against his son (he attended school nearby), and I went back to shooting around and getting loose.

Splitting up teams was something the General took care of, and given the range of ages, he decided we'd go Old Guys vs. Young Guys. As a 25 year old, I qualified as a "young guy" and since MJ was closer to 40, he was an old guy.

The game itself was a bit of a blur, but there are some details I remember. As was our regular practice, the game went to 120, counting 2's and 3's with halftime at 60 for guys to rest a little bit. I remember our team (the young guys) dominating the first 60 points, and despite our nerves we hit some shots and thought we had MJ held under wraps. Jordan was highly competitive, but did not shoot much during that first 60. He was very hard on his teammates, many who missed some easy shots, and hearing him swear was very bizarre. I do remember him slapping my ass at some point after I made a rare outside shot, which was also kinda funny.

But sometime in the second half of the game, the switch flipped and the real Michael Jordan joined us. All of the moves I saw for years were unfolding in front of us, and there was nothing any of us could do to stop them. The two dribble power attack to the basket from the top of the key, the fadeaway from the baseline, the jump shot over the outstretched hand, these were all shots the best defenders in the NBA couldn't stop and a bunch of undersized, slow kids had no chance. At one point, I remember him backing me down to the post to set up his fadeaway jump shot and I thought to myself, "Who the fu*k am I kidding right now?"

Eventually the old guys caught up to us, and beat us, but the score was completely irrelevant. Afterwards, we all shook hands, invited him back to join us again, and soaked up hanging in a gym with the greatest player of all time. There were no pictures, no autograph requests, no awkward ga-ga moments, and I think that is what was most special for me. In fact, this is the first time I've put in to words what happened that night.

I left the gym on a high that lasted for about two months, and regardless of what life holds for me it is one of the best evenings I will ever have. After my surgery, I retired from basketball (pick up or otherwise), but I truly can say I've done everything I ever wanted to do on a basketball court, and the evening with MJ was, and will forever be, the greatest highlight of my marginal basketball career.