Sunday was Michael Jordan's 50th birthday. For any of you campers reading this, that might not seem like the biggest deal. Sure, he's the greatest basketball player of all time, but he's so 1998. It's like Paul McCartney having a birthday. You know his name (I hope you know his name) but who cares, and how on earth could this relate to camp? Well let me tell you. About Michael Jordan, that is. We can get into The Beatles later.
First of all, here's a little background. I grew up in Chicago, in the magical '90s when the Bulls won six rings in eight years. My earliest memory of basketball is sitting scrunched in the corner of the couch next to my mom, watching one of the finals of the first 3-peat, and being absolutely terrified because all the grown-ups in the room would simultaneously and inexplicably erupt in cheers or groans or boos, and I couldn't follow for the life of me. But watching Michael Jordan, who I still remember recognizing on the screen, I knew something great was happening.
The same thing happened the first time I got to camp. I was pretty scared of what was going on around me, but then I would recognize something and focus on how great it was, and man oh man, were those moments awesome. I think that first day, my "Michael Jordans" probably ranged from something as small as unpacking my suitcase and seeing my sheets in a new place, to walking to the archery range and knowing what it was. Seeing the same looks on new campers faces is one of my favorite things on opening days; the mixture of fear and excitement that I know will quickly be replaced by smiles as it all becomes recognizable. It's amazing how quickly we all know something great is happening.
One of the the most confusing times for me, Chicago, and the NBA was when Jordan decided to play baseball. He signed with a White Sox minor league team, and I was sure that he would immediately be a star there too. He wasn't. But for him, taking a break from basketball to pursue this dream, to pick up a bat, something he and his dad had always talked about, was important. This was always meaningful for me: Michael Jordan left something he was great at, something he was voted the Most Valuable Player of both the regular season and the Finals a total of five times already, to pursue something he wasn't so sure of simply because it meant something to him, because he was curious. Now I'm not condoning giving up, or saying you should throw everything away for curiosity, but what I am saying is that if you do sailing every single day, and you're great at it, maybe MVP, and you've never tried canoeing, maybe one day pull a 23 and pick up a paddle. You never know what you'll find out. Maybe you'll bat a .202 and hate it and go right back to that sailboat. But you could also keep trying and become a great (or at least competent) canoeist. It might mean that second 3-peat would never have happened, but luckily we are much more supportive than the city of Chicago.
In 1997, Michael Jordan had been back to basketball for a season and a half when the Bulls faced the Utah Jazz in the Finals. He had already clinched Game 1 for them at the buzzer, but there would be another high-pressure game pretty soon after: Game 5. The Flu Game. Jordan played this game even though he was feverish and dehydrated. When I think of Jordan, I think of him leaning on his teammates after scoring. Because despite the fact that he was feverish and dehydrated, Michael Jordan put up an astonishing 38 points, including the winning three pointer. Sometimes you have to play through tough times. Sometimes you're sick, sometimes you're lonely, sometimes you're upset. Sometimes you just don't want to. But you have to get back in the game and keep shooting. Luckily, your friends will be there to prop you up, especially at camp where we value going out and giving it your all even in adverse situations. As another athletic great said, "You miss one hundred percent of the shots you don't take." (Wayne Gretzky)
The most tumultuous time in my relationship with my hero came after he stopped playing basketball for the second time and returned as part owner and Director of Operations for the Washington Wizards. See, not only was he not with my beloved Bulls, but it was also slowly becoming clear to me that Michael Jordan was sort of a jerk in real life. Finding out later that your knight in black pinstripe armor isn't as perfect on AND off the court as you imagine is really hard. That happens at camp too. I discovered that a counselor I looked up to so much when I was camper actually had flaws--can you believe it?? And sometimes we find out our friends might be a little different than we thought too, especially as we live with them for weeks on end. And you know what? That's ok. Most of the time, it's small things that don't matter. We're all human, after all. Maybe in MJ's case it means he's not QUITE my hero anymore, or doesn't get all my blind adoration. We do have to be realistic after all. Sometimes it means you might not like a person anymore. Cool. As long as you tried, and you're still nice to them.
Especially for an eight year old, it is clear that Jordan's best off-the-court contribution was Space Jam (1996), and the best part of that was R.Kelly's "I Believe I Can Fly". This song inspired lots of afternoons running around my backyard pretending to open doors and touch the sky (and has since become a Junior Boys/Blue Jays and Kestrels theme song), but it also truly became a pick-me-up and a motivator. So I'll leave you with this, and the reminder that if you are ever having trouble remembering all that you can do, send me a message, give me a call, because I certainly believe in you.
"There are miracles in life I must achieve/But first I know it starts inside of me
If I can see it/Then I can do it/If I just believe it/There's nothing to it
I believe I can fly/I believe I can touch the sky
I think about it every night and day/Spread my wings and fly away
I believe I can soar/See me running through that open door
I believe I can fly/Cuz I believe in me."
--R. Kelly, "I Believe I Can Fly"
