His Sweat Has Made the Blind Man See: Thoughts on His Airness

I just watched an interview of Michael Jordan on 60 Minutes. There are few things in this world that bring me as much joy as watching Michael Jordan. I can't explain it (but I'll try).

I think that for just about every kid growing up in Chicagoland during the 1990s, there is no one that matches his mythical stature. Talking about sports last year with my friend during the White Sox' amazing championship run, we discussed how we can't really watch the NBA anymore. Sure March Madness is good for a few moments every year, but I find basketball to be a little boring. Too much scoring. It's the opposite of soccer. But we both agreed that Michael Jordan transcended basketball. For me, he's even beyond sports. When Jordan was playing, you couldn't keep your eyes off of him. Watching highlight reels during the 60 Minutes interview I found myself repeatedly smiling or laughing in amazement as he flew through the air.

There's an article in the Times this week about Roger Federer and how watching him can sometimes be a religious experience. I'm more of a Nadal fan myself, but I understand the idea in relation to Jordan. Even in replays of shots made ten years ago, I think Michael Jordan retains the ability to move something deep inside of you. I could watch the man cook eggs. Just watching him talk for twenty minutes moved me to write this entry. I'll probably cry when he dies. Until he rises again on the third day.