What ESPN’s “The Last Dance” taught me about showing up
Michael Jordan’s mental play made him the greatest
As a Chicago native, the 90’s Bulls team was integral to my childhood. My siblings and I wore red jerseys splattered with ice-cream, sporting 23, 33, and 91, as we ran around our neighborhood barefoot during humid midwestern summers. We begged to drive by Michael Jordan’s white mansion a few towns over to catch a glimpse of his life behind a rod iron fence. Deloris Jordan’s parenting book, Family First: Winning the Parenting Game, displayed on our bookshelf so my parents could raise us to ‘be like Mike.’ We usually crouched around the TV to watch the Bulls, but some of us finally made it to a game.
At a brunch fundraising auction for my Irish dance team, my dad, several bloody marys in, was tempted by the prize of 4 Bulls tickets with a night at the grand Michigan Ave Hilton. Deep into bidding, he posed a question to my brother Patrick (9) and me (7).
“Would you rather go to college or a Bulls game?”
A month later, Patrick, my parents, and my dad’s client made it to the United Center during the ’98 season. Recalling this memory while watching the series, I asked my dad why I didn’t go. In an honest reveal, he had looked to his law firm for contribution to an enthusiastic vodka-driven commitment rather than ‘take out a second mortgage on the house’ to pay for the tickets.
The firm's favorite client took my seat. As for college, it was still self-funded- apparently all for MJ.
Every Chicagoan has a Michael Jordan story; he’s etched into Chicago’s history. These memories flooded me while watching the 10 episode series. But its footage presented more, inspiring a variety of lessons on leadership, marketing, individual growth, integrity, and loss. My favorite takeaway? Michael’s element of presence and his mental play that made him the greatest basketball player of all time.
MJ’s game was quick, surprising, and mercurial. I get why the team called the ’98 season The Last Dance. He brought creativity to the court. Michael was as much a Second City improviser as he was a basketball player. While mid-air, three defenders on him, he would effortlessly switch hands- ending with the ball in the net. That was improv. His spontaneity required hyperfocus in a moment, without time to wonder about the outcome.
Most athletes play into degrees of superstition, but Jordan brought the mental game to a new level. His court time had a symbolic dramatic flair. He wore his 13-year-old OG Air I’s (a size too small) in his last MSG game as a Bulls player, walking off the floor with open sores and bleeding feet. The anecdotes collected from Michael’s unwillingness to be beaten could fill a bookshelf. At times he used force, but more so Jordan concocted mind games to win; like when inconspicuous Washington Bullets guard Labradford Smith outplayed him. Jordan made up that Smith trash-talked him afterward and pulled 47 points on Smith the following night.
These stories expose MJ’s hyper-competitive, obsessive personality, but throughout the docuseries, I noticed a radiance in him off the court. His eyes lit up when he jumped into his golf cart, played pennies with his guards, or during card games with his teammates (entertaining high rollers and $20 antes alike). He carried that animation into his playmaking. Michael brought this fresh creative energy to everything, a perspective that curbed fear. It’s as if limitations didn’t apply to him. Limitations that we often self-impose as we get older. MJ’s presence didn’t allow for past projections or anxiousness for the future. It brought him all his energy and effort to the moment, and then let it take him where he wanted to go- to win.
There’s debate on Michael’s ‘win at all costs’ attitude. To his critics, his leadership style made him a dick. He did punch Steve Kerr in the face...although, on reflection, Kerr shrugged it off saying it helped their relationship; Kerr a casualty to Jordan’s infectious enthusiasm.
After the docuseries, I debated with my brother about MJ’s competitiveness. What was the cost of his accomplishments? Did his dogged mentality to win take away joy from the process? Or did MJ understand the hustle better than any of us… if you can white knuckle your way to 6 championships in 8 years, how tight is your grip? Maybe you can only control the process, and then the fun is how you show up at the moment.
Louis Armstrong once said, “What we play is life.”
Michael’s mental edge allowed him to perform at the caliber he did. He knew how to keep himself lit up. He understood he needed to fill up his cup to continue drinking from it. The moment he felt heavy, he pivoted, and became a baseball rookie, a new challenge to regain his playfulness. He continued to make life his game, in order to keep showing up present and passionate. He didn’t engage in the drama of the media or management (leaders should take note). Michael danced through life as eloquently as his offense.
Whatever cost his accomplishments came with, we can’t deny MJ’s massive ripple effect. He elevated the NBA, his teammates’ games, Chicago, and even his security guards with whom he shared cigars and friendship.
For the common man, it’s less about winning NBA championships, and more so about striking the balance between hustle and play to meet goals.
How can we continue to bring passion and feel lit up every day? Make it a game. That Hawaiian shirt you saved for the Jimmy Buffet concert that isn’t happening this summer may put extra finesse in your Tuesday emails. The blue light glasses you use at night may enter you into creative mode in the morning when the page is blank.
In a society that glorifies results, the process becomes secondary. If we weave in a dance with the grind, we can bring our focus when it matters, and allow our inevitable falls throughout to have a buoyant grace. The process is as sacred as the end game- so play along the way.
