“Start with hope..always start with hope. We went from being a shitty team to become one of the biggest dynasties in the sport and all it needed was one match to light this fire,” says Michael Jordan at the end of the ten part series The Last Dance, co-produced by ESPN Films and Netflix.
Directed by Jason Hehir, the series captures the highs and lows of a legendary basketball team and a cultural icon who was recently described as everything that is wrong with the American credo, “win at all costs.” Without taking into consideration that Jordan was ultimately just a supremely driven black body in the hands of a white management that did as it wished with players and coaches and even splintered the dream team that had won 6 NBA titles just because, it wanted cheaper players.
That the white hegemony has excessive power over black players has been proven again in the context of the NFL where Colin Kaepernick has been sidelined only because of his activism against police brutality.
Jordan was aware of racial divides. He grew up around them and said to himself he was going to surmount them. He did it by becoming the most recognised black player around the world in what was known as the Michael Jordan era.
He did not engage in politics because he did not want to and even when his off the cuff comment, “Even Republicans buy sneakers,” was blown out of proportion as a sign of unmitigated greed, he only said that his only focus was his game.
What he didn’t say was that he may not have become Muhammad Ali but he did in fact become Michael Jordan. Described by even his opponents as “Black Jesus.” Someone who took slights personally but only expended his angst by improving his game, becoming better than his baiters and showing that nothing could stymie his passion, his hunger to be better than he was yesterday. Not the murder of a beloved family member. Not insinuations that his actions had something to do with it. Not bad press. Not illness. Not defeat.
When he walked through crowded aisles, people wanted to touch him and the air around him, not because his name could sell sneakers in millions.
They did it because they saw in him someone who had soared above great odds to become one of the greatest players on the planet. Someone who united people across nationalities, skin colours, prejudices and demographics to cheer for what he described as the “infectious” element of his game. And that element was both theatre and poetry.
As an avid Jordan chronicler said it poetically in the series, “People spend years to learn to be in the moment. What set Michael apart was that he was always in the moment, always present. He never let the fear of failure enter his brain. He would say, “Why should I worry about the shot I haven’t taken yet?”‘
Yes, he expected too much from his team mates and nobody makes excuses for him in the series for the times he crossed the line. Including those he had pushed too hard and he, himself acknowledges the times when he stooped too low.
It was not money though that drove him. It was a flawless work ethic. And it was always about basketball and that is why he never bailed out on his team mates in a crisis like some of his nicer or more controversial colleagues did on a whim occasionally. Till his last jump to the hoop, he gave them all he had. He didn’t want to win just for himself but for everyone who was invested in the game.
Like his erstwhile personal trainer recalled, almost choking up with emotion, how after a particularly rough patch, he decided to rebuild his body with this statement, “If people take out three hours out of their time to watch me on TV, it is my job to be the best I can be.”
So the accusation that all Jordan was keen upon was winning personal glory and selling sneakers is as misleading as throwing the accusation of neo-liberalism at him that is taking the US apart today. As a black, skinny child, his only privilege was the love and support of his parents. That his iconography became bigger than the white privilege that owned Chicago Bulls is no mean achievement.
And when the management decided to break the team because it didn’t want to pay them what they were worth after squeezing out six championship wins from it, and to replace the coach, he walked away though he could have played a lot more for much more money. He took with him, memories of a lifelong bond with even those who had just managed his security details, his coach, with the city of Chicago and the satisfaction of inspiring a generation of younger players.
He was not perfect. Not always likeable. He could not always be what his community, the media and the critics wanted him to be. But he wanted to build a legacy and he did. As he said, he would leave his pedestal only when he was ready to leave it. But before he did that, he became an American influence across the world that wasn’t about domination but aspiration.
That a black man had this amount of self determination in a system designed to subdue him is inspiring.
In the end , The Last Dance is not just about him but his team mates and what they drew from him and what he drew from them. And a coach who managed to turn contrasting individuals into a formidable homogenous unit.
Jordan has since his retirement donated millions of dollars to causes he believes in and is making his stance about racism clear.
This is not a documentary that a female gaze can consume without flinching at the little space women driven sports are given in popular culture. And how little a role they play in culture defining moments except as cheer leaders, spouses, girl friends and mothers. Yes, the documentary is about a largely male dominated, trash talking and occasionally toxic world, overly obsessed with details and settling scores that seem insignificant to people uninterested in basketball . But look closely and it is also about anyone who wants to break free, soar above pain, hardship, to win and to say, “I knew it..I always knew it.”