He asked veteran forward Christian Laettner: “Is this the way the N.B.A. is?”
Laettner laughed loudly. “No, young man,” he said. “This is not for us. They are here for M.J.”
This was lesson No. 1 in Thomas’ two-year tour with Michael Jordan, who returned to the league after a three-season absence following his last dance with the Chicago Bulls. With him came countless lights, cameras, and action.
Young, curious Thomas couldn’t help but wonder: What about activism? Why doesn’t Jordan do more with his spotlight?
“I was thinking that Michael didn’t speak up for causes he could help,” Thomas said in a recent interview, after 20 years with the man the sport has become remarkably popular worldwide.
Jordan played in the final N.B.A. game on April 16, 2003, scoring 15 points in a 20-point loss in Philadelphia. That season, as he turned 40 in February and had to deal with a knee that Thomas remembers could swell like a grapefruit, Jordan averaged a modest (for him) 20 points per game. He played 37 minutes every night and in all 82 games – part of a legacy that should deter, if not shame, N.B.A. managed load today. excellence.
Jordan retired as a six-time champion with much conviction, and now maintains that there is no one greater. Such beliefs have only been enhanced by the widespread appeal of “The Last Dance,” the 10-part ESPN series about Jordan’s Bulls that aired in 2020, and the current feature film “Air.” , starring Ben Affleck, Matt Damon and Viola Davis.
The flip side of the Jordan mania is the ridicule directed at him for seemingly not using his immense fame and platform as a top black athlete for the benefit of social change. social or political. For all the interviews he has given, what is arguably his most memorable quote — “Republicans buy shoes, too” — ostensibly rationalizes his unwillingness to endorse Harvey Gantt, an African-American Democratic Party candidate in the 1990 North Carolina Senate race against Jesse Helms, a white conservative known for his racist policies .
On a broader scale, it reflects the narrative that has followed Jordan into the 21st century: that he is a hard-boiled capitalist with no social conscience. Sam Smith, the author of the 1995 book from which the original quote was quoted, repeatedly called it an offhand remark in casual conversation – more or less a joke – and said he was very regretted putting it in. During the ESPN series, Jordan said he made the comment “in jest.”
In recent tumultuous and polarizing years, Jordan has become more public with his philanthropy and occasional calls for racial justice. And in two decades of examining the precedents he set, the boardrooms he sat in and how he rose from transcendent player to majority owner of the Charlotte Hornets, the landscape has changed enough to raise the question: Did he really forge a different or perhaps more influential path? to meaningful social change?
Thomas, who after nine seasons of N.B.A. career as an activist, author and media personality, said his reconsideration of Jordan’s 1990s story began before Jordan’s permanent retirement.
He recalls sitting in the Wizards practice room one day with Jordan and a member of his entourage when Jordan asked him about a book he saw Thomas reading. Thomas recalls it might have been “Soul on Ice” by Eldridge Cleaver.
“That led to a conversation and Michael’s people started talking about the charitable things he did that weren’t public,” Thomas said. “He mentioned an event at an all-white golf club where of course they let Michael play, but there were no Black members, and Michael’s threat to pull out at the last minute if they didn’t change its policy.”
Thomas added: “I told Michael, ‘It’s something people should know and then maybe they won’t say the things they do about you.’ He just said, ‘I didn’t do that.’ And his guy said, ‘ See what I mean?’ After that, I could never see him as the antithesis of the activist athlete, the opposite of Muhammad Ali and Bill Russell. It’s not that simple.”
In “Air,” Davis, powerfully playing Jordan’s mother, Deloris Jordan, surprisingly foresaw the momentous change that modestly benefited African-American families after her reached a groundbreaking deal with Nike when Jordan joined the N.B.A. in 1984.
Satisfactory license for a screenwriter, perhaps, but who can argue that Jordan really didn’t rewrite the entire script in allocating corporate revenue to athletes? Or that the deal with Nike, which guarantees him a share of every pair of sneakers sold, doesn’t make him the godfather of name, image and likeness revenue that flows into the pockets of athletes. university students today?
For these reasons, Harry Edwards, sociologist and civil rights activist , spoke on “Bakari Sellers Podcast” in February 2021 that Jordan should not be criticized because he focused solely on building his commercial brand during the 1980s and 90s.
He calls it “the era of power foundations,” ultimately empowering Jordan’s super-rich descendants to influence communities — for example, in LeBron James’s staunch commitment to public education in his hometown. His hometown, Akron, Ohio.
Len Elmore, former N.B.A. center, who retired from playing in 1984 to attend law school at Harvard, said he, like others who revered Ali and other 1960s activist icons, had been mystified by Jordan’s `reluctance to speak out on equity issues. Those issues include sweatshop conditions overseas, where Jordan’s signature sneakers are produced for high prices.
“Michael’s years weren’t what the ’60s were — the Vietnam War, the civil rights movement,” said Elmore, a senior lecturer in Columbia University’s Sports Management Program. “There is a lot of smoldering about race, but it doesn’t burn out.
He added: “I’m not defending Michael’s failure to take a stand. But reinterpreting his legacy depends on what you saw then and what you see now.”
Although Thomas did not enter the league during Jordan’s prime as a player and pitcher, his perspective on that era is based on interviews he gave for his books and podcast, “The Rematch”. He learned that those years followed a strategic mandate: The N.B.A. Commissioner David Stern’s preoccupation with marketing.
“Those days, he was 100 percent clear — everything was about growing the game, the bottom line,” Thomas said. “He was firmly against anything that might upset his fans. Even when I came in and made anti-war comments, David said to me: ‘Be careful.’”
Stern, who died in 2020, straddled a thin line between his largely progressive political views and the fear of being alienated by consumers. Jordan followed as a polite but cautious spokesman in the face of controversies, such as that engulfing Mahmoud Abdul-Rauf, who in 1996 was dismissed by the federation suspended for refusing to stand for the national anthem for religious reasons.
Is this approach a reflection of a man who is inherently risk-averse? Does Jordan share his mother’s vision in this year’s film? Did he not know that he could have been famous and had enough leverage to have it both ways – speaking out about social causes while still being an effective pitchman?
James and more outspoken contemporary stars have adopted that approach – “changing the narrative,” Thomas said – and with the apparent support of Stern’s successor, Adam Silver.
“It’s doubtful that Jordan, in his day, could have built on what he did as a warrior,” said Sonny Vaccaro, who played a key role in solidifying Jordan for Nike. Crusade”.
“The league has to grow first,” said Vaccaro, who Damon played in “Air.” “Look, Michael got in trouble – with the Republican quote, the gambling thing, with some of his teammates. But he opened the door. He changed the world – only no one knew how much he changed the world until the next century.”
He added: “LeBron is only possible today because Michael made it possible for corporations to invest their money, huge amounts of money, in athletes, especially black athletes black. Over time, their power and voice grew stronger.”
Some would add, for better or worse, that the pendulum has swung too far in the players’ favor. It’s not—or shouldn’t be—about what the stars make, given the staggering amounts of money franchise stakeholders have raked in from recent sales. (Jordan likely won’t be an exception if he secures a deal he’s reportedly negotiating to cash out the $275 million he invested in buying his team into 2010.)
But the leverage of Jordan-inspired superstardom has led to an era of frequent and chaotic group-hopping To older fans and some news media members, it seemed a contrast to their exciting Jordan era. For all the contempt he had for Jerry Krause, general manager of the Bulls during their championship years, Jordan worked with the players provided to him, pushing them to succeed in an unsparing way. mourn and ultimately reap the rewards.
To emphasize that point, Jordan’s process, said David Falk, his longtime agent, is more tame.
“Michael is part of a generation that has been in college for a few years, sticking with a program like North Carolina, instead of transferring to A.A.U. and high school teams whenever it suits you,” Falk said. “I once asked Michael if he ever thought about playing with Magic Johnson and Larry Bird. He said: ‘Hell, no. I want to kick their asses every night.”
Jordan has created its own controversies, mostly related to high-stakes golf, including a case of $57,000 debt. But even his legendary preoccupation with casinos now seems more quaint given the indefensible conflation of professional sports with the online gaming industry.who was later convicted of money laundering which he paid by check to a man
Jordan, at 60, deserves to be seen through the lens of an evolved story, given how high he raised the bar for athletes off the track, a legacy that will resonate far in the future.
Twenty years after his last professional jump, he is still arguably the most underutilized player best in sports. If so inclined, he might even have enough muscle, away from basketball, to compete for the seat once held by Helms. Of course, his opinions have always been bipartisan.
