Gazzetta dello sport
Michael Jordan: His Airness

I remember the first hours at school. My eyelids struggled to stay open; I didn't know coffee yet, and it was a real torture not only to keep up with the explanations of the teacher on duty, but even just not to sleep. It was the price I paid those times I played, and Italian pay TV broadcasted it. While my parents slept, I would sneak down quietly. Audio wasn't necessary; it was useless compared to what unfolded before my eyes. It's hard not to fall into rhetoric, and indeed I apologize because, upon rereading, I realize I've immersed myself fully when trying to describe a DVD like this: titled “His Airness Michael Jordan”, where the commentator's most understated term is incredible/monstrous.

One of the most overused words when talking about sports is class. But what does that mean? I believe it is the effort put into playing. Let's take two current tennis players. Rafa Nadal is 22 and has knees that are falling apart. His is a game taken to the extreme: physical, sweat, and immense recoveries, à la Thomas Muster, with formidable grit and devastating strength and power. To score a point against him, if he is well, you have to practically kill him, and Federer, who was outplayed for two years, knows this well. Now that the Majorcan's physique is showing some cracks, he can't compensate for missed recoveries and exits in the fourth round, struggles not only against the top five but a bit with all the stronger ATP circuit players. Meanwhile, the Swiss guy is up there, in the semifinals of 25 consecutive slams without particular collapses, despite approaching 29 years. Luck? I don't think so. Look at his one-handed backhand, how elegant it is, and look at his physique: he almost has a little belly. He always sweats half as much as his opponents even when losing. He plays with an annoying naturalness: he makes less effort. That is class.

Therefore, class, understood as absolute ease of play, is a characteristic of several players, but it clashes with consistency of performance. I now think of a Maradona, a George Best, who burned through their careers, making them much shorter than they could and should have been. For a pure talent, training is almost boring: a pointless torment.

And then there is the killer instinct. What Velasco rhetorically called the "eye of the tiger." Knowing how to give 100% of your talent when the pressure is greatest, when it is obviously hardest. I remember Bernardi from the '90s: important points were his territory with textbook dink shots, counter-times, bust fakes, and complete manual skill. How many talents instead melted in the finals; at the moment of truth? Others never got up after a beating, despite having a whole sports life ahead. And here, the gaze turns to George Foreman. A young, very strong boxer who, after the bitter defeat by an Ali on the decline, found no other solution than early retirement.

Being sports legends, summarizing, is not just a matter of class. It takes humility to train and preserve one's physical condition, mental focus, consistency, a desire to win understood as grit and a thirst for immediate revenge after a defeat.

American basketball has always been physical, but in recent years it has surged. Chunky physiques like Barkley's are now the norm and abound, and the new path is the overwhelming power of a LeBron James or Dwight Howard, who seems deformed he's so wide. Their basketball exploits are certainly impressive, but we can justify them in some respects with the physiques at their disposal. We observe and enjoy crystalline talents like those of various Wade, Paul, Iverson, Garnett, McGrady, Nash, Nowitzki, Duncan, but for one reason or another, they struggle to be so winning and decisive in every damn season. They have ups and downs. I skip Bryant because his career isn't over yet, and he is the one who, in terms of gameplay, charisma, grit, and movements, most resembles him. LeBron is still in the individualistic phase of his career. He scores loads of points and collects astonishing plays like the early Jordan. We'll see if the first will manage to end his career with a cherry on top with a last shot worthy of a champion and if the second will know how to be a winner as well.

Jordan won a lot because behind him he had a super team and coach, but he made them grow progressively by involving them more in the game after the first years of disappointments and had the wisdom to listen and assimilate the coach's advice. Despite this on his shoulders, in decisive moments, he has shouldered his Bulls countless times against different opponents, and he had the luck or perhaps the class (understood as ease of play) to never seriously injure himself. If we look at MJ's physique, it doesn't impress us too much compared to those in the NBA. A hundred kilograms harmoniously distributed over 2 meters. Lean calves, springs in tension, and perhaps that's why I spent sleepless nights watching him: his movements didn't seem possible and justifiable. That floating in the air for that extra fraction compared to the opponent, that ability to dodge the opponent in flight, that flying turning and changing hand with naturalness, that leaning back in jumpers and above all that ease and roundness of gesture that visually satisfies you. They weren't Sunday shots, but weapons of mass destruction from his repertoire, and phenomena like Thomas, Drexler, O'Neal, Barkley, Magic, Bird, Ewing, Malone, Stockton know something about it.

Of course, this DVD is a juice of the purest essence of MJ's plays: it's purged of the blocks suffered, the selfishness of early career, the crucial mistakes made, but it manages to convey the greatness of an absolute champion who, without exaggerating, could have won 9 consecutive rings. A competitor to the core, from the early career defeats to Detroit and the Orlando of Shaq/Hardaway upon return, he found the motivation to improve. Very evocative in this sense is one of his regular season games against the Miami Heat, of which I cherish the jealous memory. Jordan wasn't in top form and suffered a heavy block from Mutombo on the entry, who flaunted his famous big finger. Total mistake. MJ's tongue reappeared for a total of 55 furious points and a standing ovation from the hostile home crowd. Because he was a champion who respected the opponent, he had become a treasure of basketball, and after all, everyone cheers for Michael Jordan.

In my opinion, he was the greatest athlete of all time. It's not just undisputed class understood as ease of play, but consistency of performance in a grueling game (82 regular season games), the ability to change gear in crucial moments of playoff series. Vengeful and lethal up to 35 years and never satisfied with achievements reached. He left the Bulls with the ring on his finger, with the title of MVP: with a shot that identifies him. After recovering a ball, the Utah audience trembles and puts their hands on their heads. They are still ahead, but the shot for victory lies in the most unsuitable person. Everyone knows that ball won't be let go: there's no surprise, only waiting and prayer in an iron noise. Fake with legs, the marker is disoriented and there it is, the perfect backward shot. Only the mocking sound of the net and there are 6 titles. 3 in a row after the vehement return.