What the 90’s Bulls and Michael Jordan Meant to Us

There is a whole generation of kids that, while they know who Michael Jordan is, they more closely relate to the crying meme than the man that dominated an entire league. They don’t understand that, in a time before social media, Jordan and the Bulls were the world’s first “trending” topic waaaayyyy before Twitter was even a possibility. The day after a Chicago Bulls game, kids in Chicago, New York, Los Angeles, Spain, China, everywhere talked about the show MJ put on the night before.

But it wasn’t just a “world phenomenon” it was an incredibly personal experience.

Ball before all

As most can see on this blog, I am a baseball guy. I have always loved baseball. While I seemingly joke around about baseball being in my blood – I also wholeheartedly believe it.

See, my father was a very accomplished baseball player. He was one of, if not the best pitcher in Northern Illinois while he was in high school. He built his career on accuracy and stuff. Think ok Greg Maddux, except this Greg Maddux also sported a crazy knuckleball that had once done a full circle in mid-air before it reached the catcher’s mitt. He would catch the eye of some scouts, and even played some rookie-league camp ball out in Seattle.

My grandfather was a different story. A bruising third baseman with power, athleticism, grace, and arm. He was a complete package type that was offered a Major League contract on a couple of occasions. The first was while he was a junior in high school, while he was 17 years old which his mom wouldn’t sign off on because she was afraid he wouldn’t get his schooling. The next, he was on his way to the Cincinnati Reds office and when he arrived there was a call that his wife, my grandma, went into labor with their firstborn. The last, his knees were on the decline and he believed that if he uprooted the family at that time it wouldn’t last for long.

Right now you’re asking, what does this have to do with Michael Jordan and the Bulls? Well, I’m getting around to that.

See, baseball is in my blood, very much so. But, during the summer we couldn’t wait to get home from Little League so that we can get out on the court to play basketball.

Little League started in those last few weird weeks of the school year. When the weather outside was nice and all the kids could sense summer. Heck, at this point I’m certain there were teachers that could sense summer. This was also playoff basketball season – the time when the Bulls would shine brightest.

We would plan it during our games. Jason would mention to Scott, then Scott would tap Goober on the shoulder (yes, we had a neighborhood friend called Goober) and Goober would say something to Phil and Neil and Raul. It would build up to a pretty decent sized game and we would all meet at a park or at one of our houses. Sometimes we would come to my house, which at the time we lived in apartments, but we had a nice sized basketball court. This didn’t last too long because we had one soft spot on our backboard which if you hit it on that side you always made the shot. Like literally, always made the shot. This wasn’t found out until one interesting game of horse that seemed to last for hours.

Even though we would all meet to play baseball, we were all thinking about playing basketball. I told you all baseball was in my blood, well what is even more in my blood is a competitive drive. A drive that came out watching Jordan.

A drive that wasn’t always healthy. The first non-sibling fight I ever had was playing basketball. It was also my second, third, and fourth. Hell, there was a time that I fought more with my brothers on the basketball court than I did off of it. I used my drive to continuously push myself, and sometimes when I was getting beat on the court, I took it out on those I was playing. I wouldn’t say I got “dirty” by any means, but if I was getting beat you were going to earn every bucket.

See, when you play baseball you can use your competitiveness off the field. It is hard to use that while you are on the diamond as it can very often pull you out of the game. When you try too hard in baseball, you tense up, you overthrow, you grip the bat or ball too hard, and it just causes bad outcomes. But on the basketball court!? I could use it to out-hustle someone, I can use it to get tough and box someone out, I can use it to push myself to be better.

He turned me into a star

In a time when tickets to a Bulls game were near impossible to come by, every kid on a basketball court mimicked Jordan’s every move. The reverse lay-up, the jumping from the foul line, the close your eye’s free throw, the fadeaway jumper – these were mimicked across the world by every race, religion, creed, sex. Jordan had this 5’10” white kid out on the court day-after-day perfecting all these moves. Jordan made me think I was a basketball star. He made me think that because he woke a deep passion for being the best from within. A competitive fire that forced me to do anything possible to beat other neighborhood kids on the court.

Even after I didn’t score a single basket in two years of Park District basketball – I was a star. When I was cut from both the seventh and eighth-grade basketball team – I was a star. When I went to the high school’s “open gym” which was really a proving ground for who was going to try out for the Freshman basketball team, and I failed miserably – I was a star.

I didn’t let those defeats get me down, after all, “Jordan was cut from the varsity basketball team.” If you have ever been cut from something, this is what the coach will tell you. There are some that hear it and roll their eyes and there are some that hear it and push themselves to get better. I chose the latter.

While I never “made it” as a basketball star in school, I was someone to fear during gym. Here I was, a short and skinny kid that shouldn’t have many athletic skills on the court, and I would take kids on the basketball team to school regularly.

That would translate outdoors too. I would wreck players on the playground, all using tricks I learned from Jordan. Taking them to the rim, floating up a crazy layup, scooping under an arm trying to block my shot. I was a fast, unsuspecting player with the quickness to beat kids off the dribble.

But, as I got older, and other kids shot up in size while I remained short, I had to adapt. Similarly, Jordan adapted. He couldn’t live in the paint and had to create a jumpshot and he eventually perfected my favorite move, his post-up fadeaway.

While Jordan worked tirelessly to develop a jump shot, which eventually turned into the NBA’s most deadly weapon, I too was on the court, day-after-day, practicing a windshield wiping fadeaway myself. Oh, and I got damned good at it too.

It ain’t all about the game

So… why am I telling a tale of a concrete player that couldn’t translate to an organized bball player? It isn’t just about the game.

Watching Jordan, and striving to be the best player on the court didn’t end with me playing the game. I was short, others were more naturally talented, and for some reason, my skills didn’t translate to the organized game.

But, that tenacity didn’t end playing basketball.

I would take that tenacity to develop my baseball game further. I wasn’t the most skilled player on my baseball team, but my work ethic and drive caused our varsity coaches to stop practice nearly every day to have the team watch the way I approached practice. I was hell-bent on being perfect. From playing my positions – I played all positions besides pitcher, catcher, and first base – and I played them all very well. But the single best tool I had defensively, was turning the double play from either the shortstop or second base side.

The varsity coach would have the entire team watch as I maneuvered around the bag. Understanding my footwork, knowing how to get the most out of my arm, putting myself in the best position to make the play. One of the school’s best athletes, the quarterback, the big-time basketball star, and baseball player, was told to learn from me on multiple occasions – and he had a brother in the minor leagues.

One day before Easter break, my coach came to me and said he needed me to work on hitting more line drives. I had been popping out or grounding out a lot. So I went to work. I begged my uncles to bring us to the batting cage in town, and I dumped an incredible amount of quarters in them to work on my hitting. In the process, I completely revamped by stance and swing which led to more line drives in-game.

I have to admit, the stance was odd. I had realized I was dropping my hands, which caused them to either come in under or if I was ahead of a pitch, over the ball. This caused weak, lazy contact that led to easy outs. So, to combat that, I started with my hands high. But, this brought the bat up and I looked similar to Craig Counsell pre-pitch. The worst part, I was chopping down on the ball more, creating even more weak grounders.

But I did notice that I was getting to the ball more consistently. So I was near something and I continued to work.

I probably took 2,000 cuts between official baseball practices, and I had finally perfected my new stance and swing. I was now an open-stance player and I had my hands up near the ear hole on my helmet with the bat resting on my shoulder. Now, back then, resting a bat on your shoulder was a HUGE no-no. But, as we have learned, as long as you get your hands and bat into a good position before the swing, it is alright.

I think the first time my head coach saw this new stance was in a game against a cross-town rival. After I took the first pitch, a ball that was low, he yelled at me, “what the hell are you doing!? Bat normal!” I didn’t, I kept with my new approach, and the next ball was a change-up I was a little out in front of. I smashed the ball and it whizzed just over his head. As the coach spit out the dip he had in his mouth (sorry coach, we all knew you were packing out there) and as he dusted himself off, he said, “ok, that’s fine. Keep doing what you’re doing.”

I went on a crazy run at the plate from then on out. My tenacity and hard work paid off.

Life lessons

For millions and millions of kids in the 90s, Jordan brought them to the game. From everywhere on the planet, kids were picking up a basketball because they wanted to “be like Mike”.

Not all of us had the skill set, the tools, the body, the height. But for so many of us, he taught us how to work hard at something. That is what Jordan did for me.

I sit here today as a fairly successful salesperson, but the trait that Jordan and the 90s Bulls instilled in me was to be even better. So… after being good at my job, I continue to work my ass off to better myself. To become better in my profession. This hard work has transformed me once again.

In the first three years in my current organization, I was a good asset. I did my job, I was meeting sales quotas, and developing a nice territory. But as I continued through, I continued to work and work hard. I was getting better at the techniques I would use. I was watching videos from other salesmen to pick up new techniques. I was learning more about the product line. I was learning more about the organizations I was working with. I was learning more about the roles of the people in the organizations. I was becoming a master in my field.

At the beginning of 2019, I created an annual plan. We did this every year, but this was the first time I blatantly told my manager and his boss that I will be the best sales rep in the market. I did this on the first page of my plan.

Now, we have some real heavy hitters in Chicago. Like, annually the top-selling rep list is littered with Chicagoland reps. The director looked at me and immediately asked, “how do you intend on doing this?” It was a fair question as, before me, the territory I worked was traditionally on the weaker end.

I went on an aggressive plan which laid out a step-by-step synopsis of how I would get there. I broke it down to show exactly how much I expected from each vertical in my territory. By the end of the year, I was wrong. I completely underestimated how much business I would end up with and completely blew away my projections. By the end of the year, I would become the highest-grossing rep in the market in new customer adds, current customer upgrades, production machine sales, solution sales, and total business.

So no, Jordan didn’t cause me to become a great basketball player like he did for Dwayne Wade or Kobe Bryant. But he did help me become great at my profession.

The Jordan influence has helped so many people in so many ways. Ways that might not be able to be measured. So while ESPN is documenting “The Last Dance,” as the Bulls final run, there are many out there that are still killing it in all walks of life because the lessons learned from watching someone who wouldn’t allow anyone or any team to be better than he and the Bulls were.