Face it, folks: He is not coming back

Sporting News, The, April 2, 2001 by Jay Mariotti

I am 100 percent certain Michael Jordan is speaking to me, on the record, explaining why he's not returning to basketball. This isn't the third cousin of a pal of Jordan's sprinkler repairman, convinced he's preparing a comeback. Nor is it Charles Barkley, desperately needing the game and some love again and stuffing a wad full of wishful thinking into a writer's gullible ear.

It's Raw Mike, in his most recent elaborate interview, ruling out his Third Coming. Please listen, America. These are his words, the only ones that matter.

"No, I'm not coming back," Jordan says. "It's not happening. I have my days of `What if?' That's just natural, especially with the young talent out there and the success they have, from the Kobe Bryants to the Vince Carters. But it's nothing to the point that drives me to getting into the kind of shape to play basketball again.

"I've entered another walk of life. I'm content with that."

Now, why do so many people refuse to believe him? Is it because seven-and-a-half years ago, when he was numb from his father's murder and angry at the NBA commissioner for looking into gambling allegations, Jordan took a fantasy escape hatch to baseball? Is it because 17 months later he was playing basketball? There's a spooky cult of M.J. worship that thinks he's forever 32, a tie of the laces from dominating and winning another title. They must cling to his phantasm and believe in the pipe dream, failing to realize he's human and nearing the big Four Uh-Oh. Exasperating as the denial is, the reasons are understandable.

We're starving for someone like him. We're stumbling through Jordan withdrawal. We need our Michael fix.

And it isn't coming.

Almost three years after he flexed his right wrist in triumphant finality, heroes are scarce across the sports landscape. The Super Bowl MVP was at the scene of a double murder. A-Rod makes too much money. Kobe is either moping or limping. Mac and Sammy are afterthoughts, having devalued the home run as they smashed records. The Olympics don't matter as much after Dick Ebersol tried to kill them. Drew Henson, my favorite football star-in-waiting, chose the riskier baseball road.

Boxers? Hockey players? Tennis players? He Hate Me?

Hello?

Only Eldrick Woods triggers a Jordanesque chill. Yet all we do is complain and cry "slump" when Tiger doesn't win. If by chance he doesn't snare the Grand Slam this year, they'll ask why he didn't one-up himself. After all, Michael Jordan always did. That's why educated, well-adjusted folks act like children, wanting to believe in Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy and every M.J. rumor.

Don't. It's over. The curtain dropped the way his fans would want it, in the sweetest imaginable silhouette, Jordan making his final jump shot to win his final game. It's a moment he wouldn't want to scar by putting on a Wizards uniform, the ultimate indignity. He knows the eternal value of his famous exit and is too smart to risk replacing it with a dud. Say, a first-round sweep in the 2002 playoffs when Carter blocks his desperation 25-foot heave, forced because Barkley is too fat to get open.

Such a painful vision is the very reason Jordan must remain retired. If he can't be preserved, then who? I don't want to see him in inferior form. I certainly don't want to see him as a geezer in Allen Iverson's hip-hop show, reduced to a question by The Answer's killer crossover, then subjected to Iverson's mouth and sneer.

Unthinkable as it seems, Jordan sometimes would be smoked at 39. Iverson would dis him. Carter would. Kobe would. Tracy McGrady would. What's especially precious about Jordan's legacy is its airtight quality. Why return with eroded skills, a cigar-cutter-damaged finger and a lousy team? Remember: When he returned to the Bulls, the mechanism of a dynasty was still intact.

HIS competitive compulsions are suitably served running the Wizards. He's driven to show a crusty NBA establishment that he can turn around a franchise. If you don't believe me, ask 76ers center Dikembe Mutombo. He shares an agent, David Falk, with Jordan. He is in the know. And comeback talk makes him wag his no-no finger. "I'd like to see the guy who wrote that story," he says. "I think it's all false stuff. Michael is not coming back, believe me. What team would he play for?"

Washington, he is told.

"Ahhhhhh, haaaaaaa!" Mutombo howls.

With Barkley, he is told.

"Ahhhhhh, haaaaaaa!" he howls louder.

Laughter, indeed, is the proper treatment.

Jay Mariotti is a columnist for the Chicago Sun-Times and midday host on Sporting News Radio. You can hear him from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. (Eastern) Monday through Friday.