Jordan reduced his scoring average from 35.0 to 32.5 that year while increasing his assists and rebounds significantly (the former from 5.9 to 8.0, the latter from 5.5 to 8.0, both still career highs). "That was the year he began to be really conscious of the flow of a game, of the need for there to be more than just one option on offense," says Bulls coach Phil Jackson, an assistant to Collins at the time. "There were times he would go to the basket, and where he would have possibly created something spectacular in other years, now he would kick the ball back out to a teammate for a shot. He was capable of doing everything he'd done in the past and more, but he realized that there were times when other things were called for." The young Jordan could soar and score, but that wasn't enough for his critics. photo by Manny Millan Jordan began to study games at the outset, often choosing to set up teammates early and slowly determine what the Bulls would need from him in a given game. Sometimes it would be rebounding, sometimes playmaking, and sometimes it would be the kind of spectacular offense he had always been known for. Jordan was still capable of producing his own highlight reel, but now he was gaining an ability to sense when other aspects of his game were more important. The change in Jordan's game still wasn't enough for the Bulls to get past the Bad Boys, the brawny and bruising Detroit Pistons. Chicago lost to Detroit in the playoffs in 1989 and 1990, and the Bulls weren't just beaten, they were beaten up—by players like Bill Laimbeer, Rick Mahorn and a forward that Jordan would get to know better in later years, Dennis Rodman. The pummeling he took from the Pistons helped spur Jordan to add to his game the final component needed to turn the Bulls into champions. He rededicated himself to weightlifting and worked with a personal trainer to increase his strength. His weight, 199 pounds when he entered the league, eventually reached its current 216. Everything was coming together. Jordan was approaching his physical peak, and his understanding of team chemistry was growing. It was no surprise that Jordan and the Bulls finally broke through in 1991, winning their first title by beating Magic Johnson's Los Angeles Lakers in the Finals. Chicago followed that with two more in a row, over Clyde Drexler's Portland Trail Blazers and Charles Barkley's Phoenix Suns. MICHAEL THE WISE Shortly before the 1993-94 season began, Jordan embarked on what turned out to be a temporary retirement from pro basketball. He tried his hand at baseball, and for more than a year the only competitive basketball he played was in pickup games with his minor league teammates. When he came back in the spring of 1995, the layoff showed, but beneath the rust there were signs of a new Jordan, one who would prove to be as great as his previous incarnations—but significantly different. In Jordan's first game back with the Bulls, on March 19 against the Indiana Pacers, he hit only seven of 28 shots, most of them fadeaway jump shots. He clearly had made a choice not to go to the basket as often or as recklessly as he had in the past. The numbers made it seem like a disappointing return, but when Jackson said afterward that he was amazed that Jordan could even get free for 28 shots in his first game back, he had hit upon something important: Jordan was no longer using his quickness and ball-handling skills just to get to the basket, he was using them to get open for jump shots. The early '90s saw a more multidimensional MJ. photo by Manny Millan He would not find his shooting touch consistently for the rest of that season, and the Bulls would lose in the second round of the playoffs to the Orlando Magic, four games to two. But Jordan did prove that he was still the best there was at creating his own shot. After the playoff loss, he spent the summer working out to get himself back in peak basketball condition, and he honed his jump shot. When he returned for the '95-96 season, the formerly skinny kid with the inconsistent jumper was a solid, well-conditioned 32-year-old with a fadeaway jumper that would leave defenders shaking their heads at the futility of putting a hand in his face. There would be those who would talk about the new Jordan as if he had somehow disappointed people by becoming more of a jump shooter than an acrobatic slasher. Seattle SuperSonics coach George Karl described him as being "willing to settle for the jumper," an evaluation that angered Jordan, who found it somewhat belittling. But for the most part Jordan laughed off any insinuations that he wasn't as good a player as he once had been just because he was beating opponents with graceful fadeaways rather than with spectacular flights to the basket. He was a better, smarter player than ever—and he knew it. "Can I still take off from the foul line?" Jordan asked shortly before the '97 playoffs began. "I don't know. I haven't tried lately. I may not be able to do everything I once did, not on a regular basis, but I'm a better basketball player than I've ever been. My mental understanding of the game is far superior to what it was when I first came into the league. I think anything I might have lost physically, I've compensated for mentally." He has more than compensated, of course. It turns out that Jordan's greatest ability is the ability to change. Whether there are more eras to come in his career is up to his opponents more than it is up to Jordan. If they find a new way to challenge him, he will no doubt adapt his method of attack. But there will be time enough for analysis later. For now, we should simply watch and enjoy an artist at work.