JORDAN'S LEGACY IS A SHAM
by Thomas S. Hunter

I don't give a damn about Michael Jordan's reputation. And I care even less about his legacy. It seems that every article I read concerning Jordan's comeback involves the prospect of his legacy being diminished. Let me put it this way: the day Michael Jordan helps me out with the rent, that is the day I will start giving a shit about his legacy.

Until that day, he, like every other basketball player on the planet, can just keep playing ball for my amusement. Like a dancing bear in a circus.

The idea that he even has a legacy is ridiculous. Presidents have legacies. Gandhi has a legacy. Jordan is more like Redd Foxx. That guy did some funny shit, but I don't hear any talk about his legacy.

Of course Jordan is the best basketball player ever. But that is of lesser importance to me than, say, the chef at my local Pakistani restaurant consistently serving up really good Peanut Chicken Tandoori, or the little redhead down at the convenience store who calls me "Big Poppa" while I spank her ass raw in the back of my Ford Festiva.

In walking this earth for 28 years I have seen my share of silly bullshit, but paunchy white middle aged Mormon bankers calling Michael Jordan their "hero" probably takes the cake. I do not have a hero for the same reason I cannot seem to hold down a job: I refuse to figuratively (or otherwise) kiss another man's ass.

If I ever happen to be in the vicinity of Michael Jordan I will not scream or cheer or faint. I will not hold up a sign reading "Jordan 3:16". I will not wait in the cold for long periods of time just to catch a glimpse of him being escorted to a limousine. I will not share my acid tabs with him and I will never ask for his autograph, though I may give him mine.

Don't get me wrong. Jordan is not the problem. He never asked millions of people to act like horses' asses in his presence. The problem is my fellow commoners, anonymous losers who look forward to the next smoke break they have coming and not much else. Losers whose greatest ambitions include building an addition on the trailer home. NASCAR losers. Losers like me.

As for his return, well, he will either play some really impressive basketball, in which case I will be happy, or he'll stink it up miserably and the enormous folly of his comeback will haunt him the rest of his life, ending in a downward spiral of pills and self-recrimination, in which case I will also be happy.

Either way I'll be hooking up with that little redhead in the back of my Ford Festiva on a regular basis and generally not giving two shits about Michael Jordan's legacy.