Here's another one: pound for pound, Sugar Ray Robinson was, is and always
will be the world's greatest boxer.
Everything I've written
up to this point – with the exception of the by-line and the title
- is debatable. You can certainly make a great case for Jim Brown, Walter
Payton and Joe Montana among dozens of other Hall of Fame football stars.
What about Ruth and
Aaron and Williams and DiMaggio and Mantle and Koufax and Ryan and –
need I go on?
Sugar Ray? They don't
call Ali the Greatest for nothing. Did I forget about Marciano, Louis
and Dempsey?
In barrooms, bedrooms,
living rooms and bathrooms (what, you've never had the Montana or Marino
debate standing in front of a urinal?) across the country, every day,
the question of "who's the best ever" rages on – and there
will never be a unanimous, definitive answer.
So for you sportsfans
who insist that everything is either black or white; who can't sleep at
night without some form of closure; who maintain that for every question
there must be an absolute response, I say, stick to basketball.
When the NBA Championship
is on the line and you have to pick one basketball player in the history
of great basketball players to take the game-winning shot – it's
Michael Jordan. Every time. No argument. End of discussion. How's that
for closure.
MJ is the best basketball
player ever. Not because he led the Bulls to six Championships –
Bill Russell led the Celtics to 11. And not because he could seemingly
score at will – Abdul-Jabbar has more career points, so does Karl
Malone. (But I don't drive my car tapping the steering wheel while humming
the words to the catchy jingle "I want to be like Kareem".)
Michael did so many
things on a basketball court that were so amazing, so awe inspiring and
so unutterable that play-by-play announcers finally came up with the word
Jordanesque to describe his otherwise indescribable feats.
There goes my spell-checker.
It wants me to change Jordanesque to either Jordanian, statuesque or Jordanaires.
Apparently, my spell-checker thinks Jordanesque is a tall, shapely, country
music quartet from Amman. The folks at Webster need to watch a little
more basketball.
And not only does
MJ have his own adverb, he has his own line of cologne. So even if I can't
be like Mike, at least I can smell like Mike. Not to mention that me and
Mike wear the same brand of underwear. I won't go into the whole boxers
vs. briefs issue, let's just say they're Haines, and leave it at that.
I've owned my share
of Air-Jordan high tops – even though I could never find a pair
that didn't pinch my pinky toe. I've consumed a river of Gatorade without
ever producing green or orange sweat (I don't think peeing yellow counts).
And I've eaten so many Big Macs and fries that I'm considering filing
a law suit. That guy must be one heck of a pitch man.
But more than that
he was one heck of a basketball player. Fun to watch even when he was
knocking my team out of the playoffs (time and again). These so-called
experts who think his last two years with the struggling Wizards will
somehow tarnish his legacy are nuts.
His whole career –
his play on the court, his commercial appeal, his commitment to many charitable
organizations - has been "nothing but net".
You can make a strong
argument against Unitas, Mays and Robinson, but I think you'll have a
hard time convincing me that Michael Jordan isn't the greatest basketball
player of all time.
I don't really want
to be like Mike, I'm pretty darn happy with who I am. But maybe, someday,
I'll do something extraordinary. Something that can only be described
as Jordanesque. That would be cool.
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