Jordan Can Still Draw a Crowd

All right, what kids do you think will be the envy of their friends at school today: the ones who sat on Santa’s lap at the local mall or the ones who caught a glimpse of Michael Jordan at the Beverly Center on Sunday?

It’s at that point, you realize. Jordan’s almost a year into retirement, and he still has a higher Q rating than St. Nick.

Jordan rolled through a couple of sports apparel stores Sunday. Just checking to see how the latest edition of his Air Jordan shoes are selling.

Except with Jordan it’s never as simple as a weekend stroll through the mall. He had a small pack of Nike folks, three security guards, a representative from his agency, his personal trainer and a good buddy in tow.

There wasn’t a mad rush of people trampling each other to get to him. Instead it was a gradual movement of people slowly moving toward Jordan, their eyes transfixed as they blindly stepped forward--kind of like the people looking at the giant UFO in “Close Encounters.”

If we remain transfixed by Jordan, perhaps it’s because of the retrospective state we’re in as the end of the century draws closer.

Among Jordan’s few peers in stature, Babe Ruth is long gone and Muhammad Ali’s Parkinson’s Syndrome has drained him of the bombastic charisma that was so closely tied to his image.

Jordan remains preserved and intact. He’s like a living museum piece.

He might not be the greatest athlete of the 20th century, but he is the definitive 20th century athlete. He embodies physical grace, savvy and mass appeal.

Jordan had an abundance of talent and a sharp mind. He benefited from integration and technological advances, using all of the opportunities and tools at his disposal to reach the heights of his sport and achieve global fame and wealth.

His rise to prominence coincided with the advent of cable and satellite television, making it possible to watch every one of his games from anywhere in the country by the end of his career.

And he always gave us good reason to tune in. Talk about must-see TV. Watching Jordan go for 30-plus began to feel like a constitutional right.

In a sense, Jordan had to play in this era, because to come along before television would have diminished his impact. Think about how many conversations you’ve had that began with, “Did you see what Jordan did last night?”

That’s what we’ll take away from his career. It was a shared experience--and a replayed experience, with the highlights shown over and over again. There’s no way of objectively determining the measure of Jordan’s greatness. He didn’t score the most points or win the most championships, so it has to be a collective agreement. The best rationalization I’ve heard came from Quinn Buckner.

“I played with Larry Bird,” Buckner said. “If he says Michael’s the best, then he’s the best.”

There’s a rush to nominate the greatest this or that of the century, and Jordan still has a shot at the No. 1 spot on ESPN’s 50 greatest list. Yet the prospect makes him uncomfortable.

“I just hope it’s not me,” Jordan said. “Put it that way.”

He wouldn’t pick one, but it’s doubtful he would disagree with the choice of Ali. Jordan once said of him: “We are fingers, and he certainly is a hand.”

Jordan recognizes the debt he owes to Ali, but somehow it seems as if he can’t quite comprehend the magnitude of his impact on sports and society. It’s almost as if he’s afraid to.

“I’m only 36 years old.” Jordan said. “I’ve got a lot of time left to sit back and reflect.”

He’s much more quick to discuss current topics. He talked pro football with a security guard in the freight elevator. On the way to his car he offered his observation that the Lakers look pretty good under Coach Phil Jackson and had some of the same advice as any other fan: “Tell Shaq to hit his free throws.”

Jordan said he didn’t plan to get in any practice runs with the Lakers while in town.

“What for?” he said.

Well, for one thing, they might learn something.

“Phil can teach them more than I can,” Jordan said.

With that, he climbed into his car, talked products with a couple of the Nike representatives, and was gone.

His stays always seem brief. He played 930 NBA regular-season games, plus 179 more in the playoffs, and it didn’t seem like enough.

He isn’t a recluse, yet he isn’t a man of the people, either. He gets close enough to touch, yet somehow remains out of reach. He’s elusive, always on the move.

We think we know him because we see him on TV, but we really don’t.

Michelle Dubuclet, a saleswoman at Champs Sports in the Beverly Center, was surprised at how tall he looked when he walked in the store.

Most people are accustomed to seeing him surrounded by tall players on the court. At 6 feet 6, he usually towers above everyone else in the room when he’s away from the NBA scene.

Dubuclet showed him around the store and answered his questions.

“He was just an ordinary guy,” she said. “It’s just that he’s famous.”

Famous because he played basketball. Famous because we all wanted to watch him do it.

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J.A. Adande can be reached at his e-mail address: [email protected]