[IvoLParticipant]

Tomorrow is the one on one interview with MJ on NBA TV and i found an article about MJ… you can read it

http://espn.go.com/espn/story/_/page/Michael-Jordan/michael-jordan-not-left-building

i will post one part of the post i’m no trying to hate or something i always said i respect all eras and players i just want to check with you my BBjunkie brothers if it’s true

“JORDAN PLAYS his new favorite trivia game, asking which current players could be nearly as successful in his era. “Our era,” he says over and over again, calling modern players soft, coddled and ill-prepared for the highest level of the game. This is personal to him, since he’ll be compared to this generation, and since he has to build a franchise with this generation’s players.

“I’ll give you a hint,” he says. “I can only come up with four.”

He lists them: LeBron, Kobe, Tim Duncan, Dirk Nowitzki. As he’s making his point, Yvette walks into the living room area and, in a tone of voice familiar to every husband who argues sports with his buddies, asks, “You guys need anything?”

When someone on TV compares LeBron to Oscar Robertson, Jordan fumes. He rolls his eyes, stretches his neck, frustrated. “It’s absolutely … ” he says, catching himself. “The point is, no one is critiquing the personnel that he’s playing against. Their knowledge of how to play the game … that’s not a fair comparison. That’s not right … Could LeBron be successful in our era? Yes. Would he be as successful? No.”

The Bobcats game starts and the Celtics jump all over them. The officials aren’t helping, and Jordan sits up, livid, certain that the Celtics are getting all the calls because they have the stars.

“COME ON, MAN!” he screams.

“You ain’t getting that one,” Buckner says. “But you used to get away with s— other people couldn’t get away with.”

There’s a hard silence in the room. Jordan’s voice lowers.

“I don’t believe that,” he growls.

“Bull. S—,” Buckner says. “Let’s not get carried away now. You and Larry.”

Jordan ignores him: He’s locked in.

“That’s a foul!” he yells. “See what I mean? THAT’S A FOUL!”

It’s a nice night, and Jordan moves out to his balcony, on the seventh floor, looking down the barrel of Tryon Street. The TV is up in the right corner. He smokes a cigar. The Bobcats tie the game, then fall behind again.

“Getbackgetbackgetback,” Jordan yells at the TV. “Matchup, MATCHUP. Where you GOING? DIVE FOR THE BALL!”

They’re going to lose — he’s going to lose — and he is quiet on the couch. It’s over. He doesn’t talk for a minute, then mutters something, then is silent for another half a minute.

He changes the channel to the Heat-Jazz game. During the broadcast, he is the answer to a trivia question. This is the court where he made his most famous shot, and he points to the place where he took it. He remembers how tired he felt at the end of that game. A cellphone rests on Jordan’s chest. His legs stretch out on a tree-trunk coffee table.

“What’s Bird up to?” Jordan asks.

“Down in Naples,” Buckner says.

“Playing golf every day?” Jordan asks.

“Bored,” Buckner says.

“Think he’ll ever get back in?” Jordan asks.

“He’ll damn sure get back in it,” Buckner says. “He didn’t say it, but I just know him.”

The announcers gush about LeBron, mentioning him in the same sentence with Jordan, who hears every word. Those words have an effect on him. He stares at the TV and points out a flaw in LeBron’s game.

“I study him,” he says.

When LeBron goes right, he usually drives; when he goes left, he usually shoots a jumper. It has to do with his mechanics and how he loads the ball for release. “So if I have to guard him,” Jordan says, “I’m gonna push him left so nine times out of 10, he’s gonna shoot a jump shot. If he goes right, he’s going to the hole and I can’t stop him. So I ain’t letting him go right.”

For the rest of the game, when LeBron gets the ball and starts his move, Jordan will call out some variation of “drive” or “shoot.” It’s not just LeBron. He sees fouls the officials miss, and the replays prove him right. When someone shoots, he knows immediately whether it’s going in. He calls out what guys are going to do before they do it, more plugged into the flow of the game than some of the players on the court. He’s answering texts, buried in his phone, when the play-by-play guy announces a LeBron jump shot. Without looking up, Jordan says, “Left?”

The outdoor heater makes the porch warm. Hours pass, creating distance from the Bobcats loss. Nobody says much. George plays Bejeweled on an iPad. The air is filled with the sounds of basketball: horns, squeaking sneakers, the metallic clang of the rim. These are the sounds of Jordan’s youth.

He holds a cigar and relights it every now and then, the whoosh of the butane torch breaking the silence. The heater’s flame is reflected on three different windows, shadows flickering on Jordan’s face. He never says it, but it seems as though he’s playing the game in his head, using his rage for its intended purpose. He still knows how to play. He could shut down LeBron, if his body wouldn’t betray him, if he could hold off time, if he could get to 218.”

[BenchWarmerParticipant]

Jordan seems borderline obsessed with james in this..

[IvoLParticipant]

i think he is more obsessed on playing again than seeing James play, in the article he said he would give anything to play again, the guy really loves the game and he is more obsessed for the game because of his love it’s hard to see it but everyone can see it in his face and it’s hard for me as fan lol

[Author]

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