When his airness, Michael Jordan, decided last summer to reflate his 38-year-old self for NBA career No. 3, he risked becoming a basketball sideshow, a one-man Harlem Globetrotter surrounded by a bunch of clowns called the Washington Wizards, a team whose only trick was to make itself disappear come play-off time. "He is not going to dominate night in and night out," warned his buddy, the noted hoop philosopher Charles Barkley. "I don't think they will make the play-offs." Neither Jordan nor the Wiz did anything to dispel that notion, dropping 10 of their first 13 games, including an eight-game slide,...
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