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And Now From North Carolina . . .
By Ramona Prioleau
Dating back to the 1981-82 college basketball season, I’ve had an MJ jones.
While over the years it has lessened in intensity, I still get excited at the prospect of
seeing MJ demonstrate his own brand of soul in the hole. Even though his Tar Heels
intercepted an errant Fred Brown pass to defeat my then favorite team, the Georgetown
Hoyas, for the 1982 NCAA Championship, my admiration for MJ did not waiver. When my buddy
got Bulls tickets for Chanukah during MJ’s NBA rookie season and invited me to the
game, I couldn’t resist the temptation to weasel my way to the court during pre-game
shoot around at Madison Square Garden. My friend and I charmed our way pass security just
in time to reach the sideline and capture a tongue-wagging Kodak-moment. But as luck would
have it, my camera didn’t work. |
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And before Gatorade’s catchy
“Be Like Mike” advertising campaign, I had my own MJ fantasies. During my junior
year when my cronies and I suited up for college intramurals, I quickly claimed the
moniker MJ. Although, much to my chagrin, I never took off from the paint to slam a
game-winning dunk, I fulfilled my hoop dream by nailing two clutch free throws in the
final seconds of a game to seal a victory. I also
* witnessed MJ's seven year ascension to the hoop throne often tossing crumpled paper at
the tube in a vain attempt to dislodge a pesky Pistons defender from MJ's tail;
* shed a tear after the senselessness of his father’s death;
* furrowed my brow when MJ traded in the rock for the bat; and
* speculated about the true reason for his baseball hiatus.
Moreover, I read the books, bought the highlight videos, watched the made-for-TV movie and
jammed in outerspace with MJ and the Looney Tunes. Thus, I wondered how many other ways
could one skin this Kat. |
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Nevertheless, I traipsed to Brooklyn to pick up my nephews
Zak and Izzy, made the obligatory stop at the corner store to purchase snacks (because
Sisterwoman refuses to pay $5 for movie theater popcorn) and took time to catch up with my
nephews before the midtown screening of MJ to the Max. Good thing I did because sometimes
youngsters help you find value when you think there will be none.
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When the lights dimmed, my nephews lost
all interest in their bodega-purchased snacks and tuned into the knowledge and wisdom that
the film purposefully dropped. Although they had seen MJ “in person” from the
nosebleed section of the Garden, they were enthralled by the immenseness of the IMAX
experience. And it wasn’t just the basketball. Themes of diligence, dedication and
overcoming adversity were apparent to my nephews. In reflecting on the film, 8-year-old
Zak noted that, “Michael is an achiever. He didn't give up. He kept trying and trying
and trying until he learned how to play basketball - which is a hard thing. He had to
achieve.” So, as a vehicle to offer inspiration and hope for the less jaded and
overexposed, the film is the most appealing.
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For others, the film will travel a
familiar road. However, it does so with rich imagery on a colossal screen and interspersed
personal reflections that generally enliven this controlled telling of the MJ legend. The
story is framed by MJ and the Bulls' sixth championship run with each round of the
playoffs separated by notable moments in MJ's basketball diary. And fans of the '98 series
will appreciate scenes from the final play of MJ's illustrious career, picturing MJ faking
Bryon Russell out of his gym shoes from three demoralizing angles. The MJ faithful will
also appreciate Jordan's views of his place in basketball history that firmly close the
book on his frontcourt bullishness while laying the foundation for his front office
wizardry.
Although it's evident from the film that MJ's aura is tinged with an air of arrogance,
arrogance isn't MJ's only virtue. His humility in addressing his times of failure, his
vulnerability in speaking of his dad and his yearning for a less public life are all part
of the MJ mystique that in the end humanize the larger-than-life sports figure. And
despite my desire to emulate MJ's on court skills, it's quite possible that Mike wants to
be like me, traveling across the Williamsburg Bridge on the J train and explaining to my
nephews that the Twin Towers represent the World Trade Center, not Bill Laimbeer and Rick
Mahorn. M
May 2000
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