7 Points on The Last Dance
Part III
“The Last Dance is a 2020 American sports documentary miniseries focusing on the 1997–98 Chicago Bulls. The series features film from a crew that had an all-access pass to the Bulls during the NBA season.”
Like many in the sports-loving world, I finished The Last Dance on ESPN on Sunday night. Earlier, I’d published 7 Points about The Last Dance, Part I and Part II. Here’s Part III… this time, it’s personal. And now, I’m lamenting the fact that all of my points only add up to 21 and not 23.
1.
Fittingly, as the clock was running out on the 10th and final episode, Director Jason Hehir made a big reveal: just how close the Chicago Bulls were to going for a seventh championship.
It’s one of the greatest What Ifs in sports (and in life). But that’s precisely why I’m glad they didn’t try it.
My friend and co-creator, Melanie Chandra, attended a taping of my old roommate Hasan Minhaj’s Patriot Act. During a Q&A, somebody in the audience asked Hasan…
“Would you rather eat ice cream that tastes like poop or poop that tastes like ice cream?”
During our interview with Kal Penn this past February, we turned right around and asked him the same thing.
The pose make it look like I’m talking about space shuttles.
Does such a deep and insightful question have a right answer? Why, of course. If you eat poop-tasting ice cream, it’ll suck for those few minutes, but dude, at least you didn’t eat poop. If you eat ice-cream-tasting poop, it’s better in the moment, but then you have to live with the knowledge that you ate poop. And that’s no fun, given how many times people have told us to “eat sh!t.” Let’s say the Bulls go for a seventh and get it. Cool, but how big of a difference, really, is 7 rings vs. 6? Bill Russell won 11 times… 8 in a row. Would this change the argument for Michael Jordan’s place in history (already widely regarded as the G.O.A.T.)?
In life, it’s helpful to play percentages. For all of Jordan’s risk-taking advice, his game-winning shotmaking choices are very conservative. Drive to the basket or take a wide open jumper. High-percentage shots, not Hail Marys like Stephen Curry (who somehow seems to drain them from anywhere… I’m not sure dude even needs to be in the stadium).
The chances are well over 50% that the Bulls wouldn’t have pulled it off. So, for that season, it would’ve been great, but now we’d look back and think, “They should’ve stopped at six.” Moral of the story? Eat the poop-flavored ice cream.
After all, their record in the NBA Finals was perfect. If it weren’t, then sure, go for it. LeBron James has a checkered record in the Finals. But part of the Air Jordan mystique is his 100% championship streak.
Yes, I’ve heard the arguments:
You can’t bet against MJ.
The lockout provided a shortened 50-game season instead of the usual 82.
The Patrick Ewing-less New York Knicks won the Eastern Conference and the San Antonio Spurs, who eventually won the last title of the millennium, were good but not great.
But look at the mitigating factors:
The Bulls were already showing signs of wear and tear… the Indiana Pacers had taken them to a Game 7, which the Bulls almost lost at home.
The Utah Jazz, not the Bulls, had home court advantage.
Both Scottie Pippen’s body and ego were sorely injured. Stay one more year? That’s what he just did. It’s like how Aerosmith says “one more time” five times in “Love in an Elevator.” You can’t do that. By the end of the video, Steven Tyler has lost all credibility. My point is Pippen could’ve signed a one-year deal, but why would he? Given his back problems, he had to stack that paper whilst he could… a trade was in his — and his family’s — best interests.
Dennis Rodman was well beyond his peak and his performance in the next season shows how little was left in his tank.
If Jordan hadn’t executed arguably the greatest offense-defense-offense sequence in team sporting history, the Bulls may have lost the series. Game 7s are notoriously tough to win on the road.
Look. I get why Jordan would want to go for a 7th. Easy for me to say that 7 isn’t that different from 6. But is it totally unforgivable to not try? No. After all, if Jordan really wanted 7 (or 4 in a row), then he shouldn’t have retired in 1993.
Man, why ya gotta bring up old sh!t? Ice-cream-flavored or otherwise?
That is not at all to be insensitive to the passing of his father. Not in the least. My point is that there are personal reasons not to do something — and the feud between Coach Phil Jackson and General Manager Jerry Krause is a tangible thing. (And though there was plenty of blame to go around, Krause was the boss of Jackson… it was incumbent upon him to manage that situation. That’s what leaders do.)
“Jerry had told Phil Jackson before the season that he could 82-0 and he still wouldn't be back.” - Michael Jordan
“The Nets could go 0-for-82 and I look at you like this sh!t gravy.” - Jay Z
Many things have to fall into place to win a championship and I think we’re looking back at it assuming a best-case scenario. How much would it have sucked to watch the Bulls lose their last try? Isn’t it better to wonder? The mystique only adds to the legend; a loss would’ve detracted from it.
It is exceedingly difficult to go out on top. The 1990s Chicago Bulls did it. This is show business: leave ’em wanting more.
Unlike the length of this post.
2.
On Losing, Part 1 of 2
“Winning isn’t everything. It’s the only thing.”
— Vince Lombardi
“Winning isn’t everything but losing isn’t anything.”
— Charlie Brown
I would describe my adult self as competitive. I would describe my adolescent self as ridiculously competitive.
I was pretty much an A&B student throughout elementary and middle school. The minute I found out we were getting ranked in high school, I turned it on, transforming into an A student overnight (or oversummer).
Beginning freshman year, I led almost every class for at least a period. I got all As my sophomore year. It was imperative that I become only the second person in my school’s history to win the Class Presidency all three terms, represent my district for the Hugh O’Brien Youth leadership program, hold office in as many organizations as possible, break the all-time record for colleges applied-to and -admitted, graduate #12 out of nearly 500 (with most people above me going on to earn PhDs), make the varsity tennis team, and gain admission into a six-year medical program.
Just Pluck That Unibrow.
After school and on the weekends, in backyard basketball, baseball, football, and even card games, I’d scream at my teammates if they screwed up. I measured everybody by the number and depth of their achievements. As you can imagine, it was a pretty awesome way to live.
How’d I get over it? I failed. And I failed huge. Towards the end of Senior Year, I was burnt out. After scoring well into the 90s in every subject for years, I ran into AP Calculus, Chemistry, and Biology, which all kicked my ass. But then I went to Case Western Reserve University, winning the Class Presidency out the gate and starting out with 90s on all of my opening tests, not understanding what people meant when they said I’d be humbled surrounded by all of these valedictorians and class presidents. Dude, I got this.
And then it all unraveled. My work ethic went down the drain… I didn’t realize you could either hang out or go out. Pick one. There were the kids who hung around the dorms but then stayed in and got their work done. And then there were the kids who got their crap done and went out to party. I was trying to do both. I don’t mean getting my work done twice. I mean hanging out and going out. I developed a debilitating crush on my best friend. With my heart not into pre-med at all, my classes fell between the cracks. I had a couple of bad outings on tests and my confidence went into a downward spiral. You see, I’d always tested well. The bedrock was my self-assurance that I’m a smart person. If I was staring at a problem on an exam and I didn’t know it, I could bet most of these jackasses didn’t know it, either. Well, confidence has a way of building and draining quickly, so as soon as I lost faith in myself, it was over.
My GPA suffered enormously. To make a long story a bit longer (or you can watch that scene here in my first solo show, No Man’s Land), I ended up failing out of school, moving back home to live at my parents’ in Cincinnati. Talk about an embarrassing low point. Call this my Chicago White Sox years.
And yet, even during the depths of my problems in Cleveland, I’d roam the hallways and tell myself that, one day, I’d be describing these as my dark days. I would rise again.
Fortunately, with a lot of hard work and a lot of support from my loved ones, especially my parents, I ended up holding the #1 spot for 15 of 16 quarters in my class in Materials Engineering at the University of Cincinnati. I interned on Capitol Hill, named my school’s online radio station (“Bearcast” after our mascot, the Bearcats), opened for Dave Chappelle on-campus, and heck, even kissed a girl. Jesus Christ.
(That wasn’t her name. And she had shorter hair than Jesus.)
Of course, the most significant thing that happened is that I became a much more understanding person. I went from pathetic to empathetic. I started to see people as people and not numbers. I forgave my fellow human beings when they messed up, just as I needed forgiveness for letting so many down so many times, including myself. I realized being overly competitive wasn’t any fun. After all, what’s the point in playing backyard basketball with your friends if they’re not your friends at the end of it? Also, I sucked at basketball.
F’real, though… Not bad lessons to learn at the age of 19.
Indeed, in all of the acting and improv classes I’ve taken out here in LA, we always introduce ourselves and state our reason for taking the course. It’s always astounded me that nobody else cites as their reason “to have fun.” I get that we’re here to work on our craft, but wow, if I’m not having any fun, why not go back to working in an office?
And through it all, one thing I’ve never understood along any part of my journey is when people say they hate losing more than they love winning. That makes no sense to me. You know how many NBA games I’ve lost? 0.
You know how there were all of those trivia questions during The Last Dance? My record was perfect. I got ALL of them wrong. Impressive, huh?
I mean, if you hate losing, just quit. You’ll never lose again.
When Jordan scored 63 points against the Boston Celtics, he said he’d trade all of the points for a win. The first time I heard that, I thought, “Well, of course.” Losing isn’t fun.
I love being right. But you know what’s better than being right? Winning. Scoring that many points is the equivalent of being right. But naturally, winning is what matters. And winning so that people still love you is the ultimate victory. So, even though his teammates resented Jordan many times through the season, they were all smiling and laughing at the end of it.
Oh, that’s right. This was an essay about Michael Jordan. Ego is clearly something we share.
3.
On Losing, Part 2 of 2
Many people say standup comedy is the hardest job in the world. Well, it clearly isn’t. Have you ever heard of surgeons or soldiers?
Jordan’s Remake of “I Shot the Sheriff.”
But it is probably the toughest of the performance arts. That said, the reality is that you can still do my occupation while hurt or sick.
Ever since MJ’s flu game (apparently the food poisoning game (or was it?)), I’ve used that as inspiration whenever I’m not feeling up to it.
Last year, I threw out my back. I got fined for that, because in California, you’re supposed to recycle it. Har-har.
But I had a gig in Florida. I canceled my flight, booked another one into Dallas so I could spend the night in a hotel room and rest, and then planned to make the rest of the trip the following day. Turned out a tornado rerouted our plane so I ended up crashing at my wife’s parents’ place in Austin for the night. The next morning, I grabbed a flight to Orlando. Given that I could barely walk, I did the hour seated in a chair. I broke the convention of “standup” comedy, but I was still able to entertain the crowd.
I’ve had many nights that didn’t go my way, but in those cases, it’s still art, so it’s a matter of opinion as to whether people enjoyed themselves. What’s different about sports is that it’s binary: you either win or you lose. That’s crazy: Kanye West’s fans may go to a concert and see him lose it, but they’ll never see him lose. People would wait their entire lives to see MJ play and it’s possible he could let them down. That’s gotta be tough. I mean, his lifetime shooting percentage was a very high 50%. That means he still missed half of the time.
“I’ve missed more than 9000 shots in my career. I’ve lost almost 300 games. 26 times, I’ve been trusted to take the game winning shot and missed. I’ve failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed.”
— Michael Jordan
4.
In all of this, we may have lost sight of how lucky we are that 200 HOURS of footage exist of the final (meaningful) season of the G.O.A.T. They say history is written by the winners, but it’s not often able to be backed up so clearly by Exhibits A — ZZZ. Taking an even larger step back, history quite literally began when humans started writing things down. Everything before that is prehistory.
The fact that this is all documented so brilliantly and creatively by a clearly talented director reveals how lucky we are to live in an age where we can do this. The downsides of social media are well-documented. Well, this was before social media (pre-misery?) but well into the era of mass media.
“I’m not trying to tell you,” he said, “that only educated and scholarly men are able to contribute something valuable to the world. It’s not so. But I do say that educated and scholarly men, if they’re brilliant and creative to begin with — which unfortunately, is rarely the case — tend to leave infinitely more valuable records behind them than men who are merely brilliant and creative. They tend to express themselves more clearly, and they usually have a passion for following their thoughts through to the end. And — most important — nine times out of ten they have more humility than the unscholarly thinker. Do you follow me at all?”
— Mr. Antolini’s speech to Holden Caulfield, The Catcher in the Rye
And the humility there is referring to the director, not to Jordan. Ha.
5.
When we don’t believe a particular conspiracy theory, we tend to roll our eyes at those who do. But the vast majority of Americans believe at least one. What do I make of the one alleging Jordan was suspended for 18 months during the 1993-’94 and 1995-’96 seasons? Despite the documentary’s sugarcoating, I still say it’s more than likely.
We witnessed what Steve Kerr did after the murder of his father: he threw himself 100% into basketball.
Wait. So, I’m saying because Kerr did so that Jordan had to, as well? Of course not. But I really don’t see the world’s most vicious competitor’s stopping in the prime of his career. A few months off? Sure. But to retire and say he had nothing left to prove? Then why come back? That’s a wild, wild swing from one end of the spectrum to the other.
And if he needed time off, he’d put himself under an intensely glaring spotlight like attempting to play another professional sport at the highest level? Does that seem like the ideal way to enjoy some escape? Pretty convenient that Jerry Reinsdorf owned both the Chicago Bulls and the Chicago White Sox. It seems far more probable that this would create a media maelstrom designed to distract everybody from the reason this is even happening. It remains one of the most bizarre events in my lifetime. I mean, can you name anything remotely like it?
In the early 1990s, I didn’t want to hear any criticism at all. My friends would bring up the gambling, the strippers, the off-court shenanigans. But what can I tell you? High school tennis was a tough time for me.
F’real, though, I instantly loathed Rick Reilly for his not-so-flattering words about MJ. I wanted to burn Sam Smith’s The Jordan Rules like it was The Satanic Verses.
So, what changed?
John Sandy, my Italian floormate at Case Western Reserve University in Cleveland, showed me the 1993 movie, A Bronx Tale.
Sonny, the mob boss, imparts wisdom to the impressionable boy main character:
“Mickey Mantle don’t care about you. So why should you care about him?”
I didn’t stop being a Bulls fan like this kid stopped being a Yankees fan. But that quote changed the way I viewed the world. I was able to see things much more objectively. So, yeah, I’m not sure I entirely buy the narrative that Jordan wasn’t suspended. I think he was.
6.
Have you ever seen raw, not-yet-rated talent? It’s tough because the span of time between a talented person’s obscurity and hype (deserved or not) is so short. I used to open frequently for Sebastian Maniscalco; I did so in LA, NY, and in his hometown of Chicago, getting to know him well enough for the very private comic to invite me over to his house. I would ask him how he’s not huge. Now he’s a movie star. Still, though, he already had quite a bit of heat on him. It’s not like I discovered him (since I was opening for him).
Note the Niketown Chicago shirt.
The only time I’ve experienced it was with comedian Jerrod Carmichael. I saw him quite early on, sharing a stage with him a couple of times. I could tell immediately that he was gonna blow. By this point, you may have caught him starring in his own network sitcom or choppin’ it up with LeBron James on The Shop.
This is how Jordan’s North Carolina teammates must’ve felt. Or the people around Carmen Electra. She went to neighboring Princeton High School, albeit graduating four years ahead of me, and worked at the place where I held my first job, King’s Island amusement park. And no, I don’t find it amusing at all that our paths never crossed.
7.
One of my favorite podcast questions to ask people:
What’s the best live sporting event you’ve ever seen?
I actually saw the 1995-’96 Chicago Bulls play. Whilst living in Cleveland, on April 14, 1996, I took a trip to Gund Arena (not to be confused with gonorrhea) and saw MJ score a quiet 32. It was a thrill, to make the understatement of my life.
As far as other games/matches, I usually have a number of points to make on this topic:
August 1984: I went to the Olympics the first time I ever visited Los Angeles; my parents, brothers, and Australian Uncle watched some rad soccer matches.
September 11, 1985: I saw Pete Rose shatter Ty Cobb’s hit record at Riverfront Stadium in Cincinnati.
1992–2003: Tennis would need its own category as I was a ballboy for the Cincinnati tournament and literally stood/crouched on the court for some amazing matches, featuring everyone from Andre Agassi to Pete Sampras to Ivan Lendl to Stefan Edberg to Boris Becker.
February 22, 1996: Houston Rockets @ Cleveland Cavaliers. We sat in the fifth row. When you’re that close, it’s like you’re watching a pickup game. You can hear everything the players are saying and THEY ARE SO MASSIVE. Honestly… A Top Five experience in my life. Then again, so was riding in a car that had hydraulics. Hey, don’t knock it till you try it. If you’ve never hit that three-wheel motion, you haven’t lived.
April 27, 2002: I was there when Derek Lowe threw a no-hitter at Fenway.
But I cannot believe how close I was to seeing Michael Jordan play in the 1984 Olympics. Maybe, just maybe, I’d trade all of my points for that win.
Thank you, ESPN, Netflix, Jason Hehir, and the entire cast & crew that made it possible for me to relive my adolescent years. It was a thrill.
Rajiv Satyal is a standup comic. He resides in Los Angeles and, when it comes to posts, is glad he could put up three in a row.