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Shining Moment
Michael Jordan dazzled as the Chicago Bulls won their first NBA title
By Jack
McCallum
Issue date: June 24, 1991
After answering every bell for the Chicago Bulls this season, including the
ulimate one that tolled for the Lakers in Los Angeles last week, Michael Jordan
was apologetic for getting a late start on the first day of his summer vacation.
"Alarm clock malfunction," said Jordan last Saturday morning, sliding into a
booth at
a
restaurant in the Chicago suburb of Deerfield, not far from Jordan's home. "Can
you believe I missed my first tee time? The official beginning of the golf
season?" He shook his head in
amazement.
Jordan was scheduled to play a second round that afternoon at one o'clock, and
his breakfast companion suggested that maybe, just maybe, he was too tired for
36 holes, considering the events of the preceding few days: an NBA championship
on Wednesday followed by an all-night victory party in Los Angeles, a
mini-homecoming ceremony on his lawn on Thursday, a motorcade and rally in
downtown Chicago on Friday and an overall emotional catharsis that, in scope and
intensity, surprised even
Jordan.
"Too tired for golf?" said Jordan on Saturday, genuinely perplexed. "You're
kidding,
right?"
And so this is Michael Jeffrey Jordan in late spring of 1991 -- an indefatigable
28-year-old still enchanted with games. But he is somehow different, somehow
transformed. The Bulls' first NBA title, secured with a 108-101 victory over the
Lakers in Game 5 of the Finals at The Forum, didn't earn for Jordan -- as it did
for such teammates as Scottie Pippen, Horace Grant and John Paxson -- much more
fame. Jordan has had an astounding measure of that since he came into the NBA in
1984. Neither will the title do much for his bank account, as it will for
Pippen's; last Friday Pippen received a five-year contract extension worth $18
million. Jordan will average about $3.7 million per year from the Bulls over the
next five years (undoubtedly the best deal for a franchise in all of sport), and
his earning power off the court (in excess of $10 million a year) defies
credulity. He says he expects to reduce, not increase, his off-the-court
commitments.
"The difference," said Jordan, tapping his chest, "is in
here."
This feeling of inner peace means no more moments of doubt, however fleeting, no
more wondering if he was a true winner like Magic Johnson, Larry Bird or Julius
Erving, all of whom have played on teams that won NBA titles. "I think people
will now feel it's O.K. to put me in the category of players like Magic," said
Jordan, pushing around waffles on his plate. "Personally, I always felt that in
terms of intensity and unselfishness, I played like those type of players. Some
people saw that, but many others didn't. And
the championship, in the minds of a lot of people, is a sign of, well, greatness. I
guess they can say that about me
now."
It would be hard to say anything less after Jordan's masterly performance
throughout the five games of the Finals, the last four of which were Chicago
victories. He scored with metronomic consistency, averaging 31.2 points -- a
36-point effort in Game 1 was his high, a 28-point night in Game 4 his low --
and a .558 shooting percentage from the floor. (By contrast, Magic, who
recognizes a good shot better than anyone, averaged 18.6 points and .431.)
Jordan also averaged 11.4 assists, 6.6 rebounds, 2.8 steals and 1.4
blocked shots. And his energetic defensive play, along with that of Pippen and Grant,
the other two members of what assistant coach Johnny Bach calls the Wild Bunch,
was the key to the
series.
In sum, Jordan turned in what was probably the finest all-around performance in
a five-game Finals series, of which there have been 11 in NBA history. Jerry
West, for example, had more points (33.8 average) in the five-game 1965 Finals
between his Lakers and the Celtics, but Jordan set five-game records for assists
(57 to Bob Cousy's 53 in 1961) and steals (14 to Terry Porter's 10 in 1990). And
few guards have grabbed more rebounds, Magic being one of them: He got 40
rebounds in the series to Jordan's 33. When NBA
officials collected the ballots for MVP near the end of Game 5, several members of the
media asked, "Are you serious?" Jordan won
unanimously.
The Bulls were also helped by a sound game plan. Coach Phil Jackson sniffed out
the Lakers' true weakness -- the lack of a penetrator who can consistently
break down the defense off the dribble -- and massed his defensive strength to
double- and sometimes triple-team L.A.'s post-up players. The Lakers could
muster no counterpunch, and time after time they mindlessly threw the ball into
the post, only to have Sam Perkins, James Worthy or Vlade Divac -- their vision
"occluded," as Bach put it, by the pressure -- dribble frantically ( out to
the corner, taking precious seconds off the 24-second clock. L.A. coach Mike
Dunleavy finally confused the Bulls somewhat by giving playing time to the young
and talented Elden Campbell and Tony Smith in Game 5, but that strategy was more
or less forced upon him by injuries to Worthy and Byron Scott. There is no doubt
that the Lakers, in contrast to the healthy Bulls, were tired and somewhat
battered after an enervating six-game Western Conference final against the
Portland Trail Blazers. But there is also no doubt that Jackson decisively
outcoached Dunleavy when it
counted.
Best of all for the Bulls, Jordan's performance, while sometimes show- stopping,
was never showy. (Well, ignore, if you can, the moment late in Game 5 when he
blindly tossed in a 12-foot bank shot over his shoulder as he walked to the foul
line.) That gave plenty of room for the talents of Pippen, who scored a
game-high 32 points in the clincher, and Paxson, who shot a remarkable .653 from
the field for the series, mostly on radarlike jumpers from the perimeter. In
Game 5, Paxson broke the game open when he scored 10 points in the final four
minutes, mostly on long, clutch jumpers. Grant, a gutty power forward in a small
forward's body, epitomized the Bulls' team effort; he didn't attempt a single
bad shot in five games
and averaged an economical 14.6 points on .627 shooting. No wonder the Bulls' .527
team shooting percentage tied the 1989 Pistons for the best in NBA Finals
history. And no wonder Jordan insisted that the other four starters, Pippen,
Grant, Paxson and center Bill Cartwright, be included in the now traditional
"I'm Going to Disney World" commercial filmed shortly after Game 5, for which
they divided
$100,000.
But, clearly, this was Jordan's show -- "a tribute to Michael," as Jackson
put it. It may have started out as the Magic and Michael Finals, but Jordan had
left the ol' purple-and-gold warrior in the dust by the time the final buzzer
sounded. Magic knew it, too. He calmly answered question after question about
Jordan in the locker room and never showed a trace of jealousy or pique, a
tranquillity forged at least in part by his nine Finals appearances and five
championship rings. Those who had visited the Chicago locker room reported
Jordan's teary reaction to winning the championship and asked Johnson if he,
too, had felt so emotional after his first title, way back in his rookie year of
1980.
"No, I didn't react that way, but there's a good reason for the difference,"
said Magic. "I was so young [20], so unschooled in what it took to win an NBA
championship. So I know exactly what Michael is feeling now because I felt that
way later in my career, when it took so much more effort and sweat to win
it."
Over breakfast on Saturday, Jordan said that Magic's analysis was
correct.
"After we won the NCAA championship in my freshman year [at North Carolina in
1982] I felt happy, but not all that emotional," said Jordan. "I remember
seeing Jimmy Black and a few of the other guys really crying, and I'm thinking,
What's going on? This is supposed to happen, right? You come to college and you
win
a championship.
"But in the pros I've seen it from the opposite side. All the struggles, all
the people saying, 'He's not gonna win,' all those little doubts you have about
yourself. You have to put them aside and think positive. I am gonna win! I am a
winner! And then when you do it, well, it's just
amazing."
Still, even Jordan was surprised by the tidal wave of emotion that struck him as
he entered the locker room after Game 5 and knelt for the team prayer. He
sobbed, at times almost uncontrollably, as his wife, Juanita, and father, James,
sat beside him, massaging his arms and shoulders. He had almost stopped crying
when a friend led a smiling woman into the circle. "Michael, it's your
mother," the friend said. And he broke down again as Evelyn Jordan kissed him,
patted his cheek and retreated into the background. "I figured
he'd react that way because it took so much hard work," said Evelyn. Recalling the
moment, Michael again seemed touched. "You go through that as a kid," he said.
"Your mother comes over to console you about something, and that makes you cry
even more. But my mom? She handled herself like a movie
star."
Which is how Jordan was treated when he arrived back in Chicago at 4 p.m.
Thursday. At least 100 well-wishers from his neighborhood and beyond -- "Seems
like everyone in Chicago knows my address," he said afterward -- had turned his
front lawn into a minicarnival. Letters, telegrams (one from North Carolina
coach Dean Smith), balloons, posters and drawings were tacked to his front door,
and there were flowers and plants -- "Enough to open up a florist shop," he
said -- piled up on his porch. He shook his head. "Sometimes I can't believe my
life is so crazy," he
said.
As for the Bulls' immediate future, Jordan, predictably, had his opinions.
Over the past few seasons he had been outspoken in his criticism of general
manager Jerry Krause, and although early in the playoffs he said he was willing
to eat his words if the Bulls won the title, he didn't sound quite so repentant
on
Saturday.
"I don't regret anything I said ((about Krause)), because I was honestly
expressing my feelings at the time," said Jordan. "Our bench was not playing
very well, and I thought we needed help. Fortunately, they responded. But I
think next year we'll have to build on it to stay
strong."
The big questions among the frontline players are Cartwright and Paxson, both of
whom are unrestricted free agents. The Bulls are expected to make Cartwright an
offer, though it remains to be seen if he will accept one instead from a team
closer to his Northern California roots, such as Golden State or Sacramento. "I
think it's going to be up to Bill," said
Jordan.
There is no such ambivalence in his feelings about Paxson. "Pax signed his own
contract with his play in the Finals, and if they don't sign him, I will be one
upset Bull," said Jordan. "Anybody playing beside me is going to have to knock
down those shots that Pax did in the Finals. We've always communicated well on
the floor, but in the Finals it was really something. I always knew where he was
as soon as I got double-teamed. And I know how he wants the ball -- waist-high
and in rhythm. He gets it too high or too low, he doesn't shoot it. I want Pax
around, that's for
sure."
And Jordan will probably get him. Krause had made no move on Paxson as of last
weekend, but the feeling is that the general manager will make a solid offer and
that Paxson will accept it. The championship season was the first in the 25-year
history of the franchise, and Chicago fans will not take kindly to a major
breakup. As Jordan finished his breakfast on Saturday, a middle-aged man
approached his table sheepishly. "I don't want to bother you for an autograph,
Mr. Jordan," he said, "but I just have to thank you for what you've done for
Chicago."
Indeed, the 1991 Finals will go down as a championship won for a city that has
given the NBA some of its finest moments over the years. And it will go down as
the series in which the Bulls' supporting cast at last shrugged off its tag of
"the Jordanaires." But make no mistake about it -- the victory belonged most
of all to Michael Jordan, who, for now at least, sits atop the basketball world,
higher even than Magic. And for those who felt that Jordan was already the king,
consider the 1991 Finals his
coronation.
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