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10-25-2005, 08:52 AM
The New York Times
October 25, 2005
Sports of The Times
Jordan's Same Old Song Is Turning Into Sad One
By HARVEY ARATON
WAS it coincidence or irony that what played like a Michael Jordan infomercial on "60 Minutes" Sunday night was delayed while Eli Manning drove the Giants down the field, rising to the type of end-game moment that best defined Jordan from the 1982 N.C.A.A. championship game to Game 6 of the 1998 N.B.A. finals in Salt Lake City?
A week ago in Dallas, Manning got the Giants into the end zone for overtime. Sunday, his deep drop bought him the time to find Amani Toomer for the touchdown that dramatically took down the Broncos.
"I'm still making mistakes," Manning said afterward. "Two drives in two games does not mean that you have things figured out."
He knows he is a long way from polished, much less finished, but the stage that some of our greatest athletes do not know how to exit is Manning's to hold on to, even past the top of the hour, into Jordan's air space.
CBS spent all week promoting Ed Bradley's interview with Jordan as if it would be a sitdown with Osama, and it turned out that Jordan said nothing we hadn't heard before. Which, in effect, amounted to him saying almost nothing beyond being "stupid" for the gambling risks he took (no!) and, oh, yeah, he may have helped Bryon Russell disappear from his jump-shooting space with his left arm in the aforementioned Game 6 (no kidding!).
The big exclusive was just a show of cross-promotional marketing, with CBS lending its venerable news magazine to help launch a Jordan book, published under the same corporate umbrella. At least Jose Canseco and Bill Romanowski had steroid slime to share. Jordan was just reminding us that even without the ball, he is still in the shill game, though, as usual, he owes the world nothing.
"When you're out in the public, they come up and they want to meet and greet, say hello, sign autographs," Jordan told Bradley. "But I want them to understand this is my time. This is not your time. This is my time now."
Before he returns to the golf course, please know that his sneakers, book and brand underwear are on sale at an outlet near you, and - calling all investment bankers - it costs only $15,000 a head to be trash-talked and dunked on by the 42-year-old legend himself.
Across the 1990's, Jordan didn't need words to get anyone's attention. He had the last shot, led all the highlights. Commercially speaking, no one was bigger because no one had the capacity, or audacity, to live up to the hype.
Jordan's star power was always predicated on his coming through, then cashing in. He never attached himself to a cause that would enhance his legacy in his post-playing years. His most enduring quote comes from a book - Sam Smith's "Second Coming" - not written by him.
"Republicans buy shoes, too," Jordan reportedly told a friend, referring to his refusal to endorse an African-American candidate, Harvey Gantt, in a North Carolina Senate race against Jesse Helms.
"It's a heavy duty to try to do everything and please everybody," Jordan said, when Bradley mentioned criticism of his failure to be socially active or political. It was a familiar refrain for an unfocused question. Did Jordan ever feel guilt about not using his unparalleled leverage to speak out about the plight of impoverished blacks? What about his promise years ago to investigate Nike's alleged workplace malpractices, but never quite getting around to it?
Jordan played it safe and never seemed sorry. His centrist strategy was certainly no crime, but if it was his personal choice to limit himself to being the immaculate corporate pitchman, then it is also fair, especially in light of the N.B.A.'s newly implemented dress code, to offer Jordan as exhibit A in the argument that clothes do not necessarily make the man.
In a letter to the sports editor that was published Sunday in The New York Times, this case was smartly made by Eric Rosenbaum, a reader from Austin, Tex., who noticed the juxtaposition of the dress-code article last week directly below a feature on Washington Wizards center Etan Thomas.
In an accompanying photo, Thomas, as the reader pointed out, covered his flowing dreadlocks with a Rastafarian hat, wore his shirt untucked, along with a pair of now-banned open-toed sandals. What did this say about Thomas? Nothing about the poetry he has published decrying urban poverty, the time he spends visiting schools and the courage he has demonstrated speaking out against Bush administration policies he disagrees with.
Based on the "60 Minutes" piece, the only activism evident in Jordan's life is acted out at his fantasy camps, clips of which were as depressing as any I can recall of an aging Willie Mays stumbling around in center field, for entirely different reasons.
Before the ultimate man's man lost a power struggle with a woman, the sports executive Susan O'Malley, and was fired from his front-office position with the same Wizards after the 2002-3 season, Jordan was still a very good N.B.A. player. He told Bradley, "I still think I can do it better than most," while admitting that it was more easily thought than done.
There was one last mind game, one predictable parting shot at his successors-under-siege - "the kids today," who are given "things they haven't earned," and who only care about their cold, hard cash.
And from whom, pray tell, did they learn that? Sadly, not surprisingly, "60 Minutes" didn't say.
E-mail: [email protected]
* Copyright 2005 The New York Times Company
October 25, 2005
Sports of The Times
Jordan's Same Old Song Is Turning Into Sad One
By HARVEY ARATON
WAS it coincidence or irony that what played like a Michael Jordan infomercial on "60 Minutes" Sunday night was delayed while Eli Manning drove the Giants down the field, rising to the type of end-game moment that best defined Jordan from the 1982 N.C.A.A. championship game to Game 6 of the 1998 N.B.A. finals in Salt Lake City?
A week ago in Dallas, Manning got the Giants into the end zone for overtime. Sunday, his deep drop bought him the time to find Amani Toomer for the touchdown that dramatically took down the Broncos.
"I'm still making mistakes," Manning said afterward. "Two drives in two games does not mean that you have things figured out."
He knows he is a long way from polished, much less finished, but the stage that some of our greatest athletes do not know how to exit is Manning's to hold on to, even past the top of the hour, into Jordan's air space.
CBS spent all week promoting Ed Bradley's interview with Jordan as if it would be a sitdown with Osama, and it turned out that Jordan said nothing we hadn't heard before. Which, in effect, amounted to him saying almost nothing beyond being "stupid" for the gambling risks he took (no!) and, oh, yeah, he may have helped Bryon Russell disappear from his jump-shooting space with his left arm in the aforementioned Game 6 (no kidding!).
The big exclusive was just a show of cross-promotional marketing, with CBS lending its venerable news magazine to help launch a Jordan book, published under the same corporate umbrella. At least Jose Canseco and Bill Romanowski had steroid slime to share. Jordan was just reminding us that even without the ball, he is still in the shill game, though, as usual, he owes the world nothing.
"When you're out in the public, they come up and they want to meet and greet, say hello, sign autographs," Jordan told Bradley. "But I want them to understand this is my time. This is not your time. This is my time now."
Before he returns to the golf course, please know that his sneakers, book and brand underwear are on sale at an outlet near you, and - calling all investment bankers - it costs only $15,000 a head to be trash-talked and dunked on by the 42-year-old legend himself.
Across the 1990's, Jordan didn't need words to get anyone's attention. He had the last shot, led all the highlights. Commercially speaking, no one was bigger because no one had the capacity, or audacity, to live up to the hype.
Jordan's star power was always predicated on his coming through, then cashing in. He never attached himself to a cause that would enhance his legacy in his post-playing years. His most enduring quote comes from a book - Sam Smith's "Second Coming" - not written by him.
"Republicans buy shoes, too," Jordan reportedly told a friend, referring to his refusal to endorse an African-American candidate, Harvey Gantt, in a North Carolina Senate race against Jesse Helms.
"It's a heavy duty to try to do everything and please everybody," Jordan said, when Bradley mentioned criticism of his failure to be socially active or political. It was a familiar refrain for an unfocused question. Did Jordan ever feel guilt about not using his unparalleled leverage to speak out about the plight of impoverished blacks? What about his promise years ago to investigate Nike's alleged workplace malpractices, but never quite getting around to it?
Jordan played it safe and never seemed sorry. His centrist strategy was certainly no crime, but if it was his personal choice to limit himself to being the immaculate corporate pitchman, then it is also fair, especially in light of the N.B.A.'s newly implemented dress code, to offer Jordan as exhibit A in the argument that clothes do not necessarily make the man.
In a letter to the sports editor that was published Sunday in The New York Times, this case was smartly made by Eric Rosenbaum, a reader from Austin, Tex., who noticed the juxtaposition of the dress-code article last week directly below a feature on Washington Wizards center Etan Thomas.
In an accompanying photo, Thomas, as the reader pointed out, covered his flowing dreadlocks with a Rastafarian hat, wore his shirt untucked, along with a pair of now-banned open-toed sandals. What did this say about Thomas? Nothing about the poetry he has published decrying urban poverty, the time he spends visiting schools and the courage he has demonstrated speaking out against Bush administration policies he disagrees with.
Based on the "60 Minutes" piece, the only activism evident in Jordan's life is acted out at his fantasy camps, clips of which were as depressing as any I can recall of an aging Willie Mays stumbling around in center field, for entirely different reasons.
Before the ultimate man's man lost a power struggle with a woman, the sports executive Susan O'Malley, and was fired from his front-office position with the same Wizards after the 2002-3 season, Jordan was still a very good N.B.A. player. He told Bradley, "I still think I can do it better than most," while admitting that it was more easily thought than done.
There was one last mind game, one predictable parting shot at his successors-under-siege - "the kids today," who are given "things they haven't earned," and who only care about their cold, hard cash.
And from whom, pray tell, did they learn that? Sadly, not surprisingly, "60 Minutes" didn't say.
E-mail: [email protected]
* Copyright 2005 The New York Times Company