; Election night, 1988. In a darkened Madison Square Garden, a murmur of anticipation ripples through the standing-room-only crowd. On the floor below, the guest of honor stands, head bent, a bit overwhelmed and maybe a bit embarrassed by the spectacle. "Ladies and gentlemen," booms a voice as the spotlight rakes the now cheering audience, "No. 23, Miiichaaael Jooordaaan!" As one, the 19,591 men, women and children rise to pay thunderous tribute to . . .
To what? Has the Chicago Bulls' star been traded to the host New York Knickerbockers? Nice dream, if you're a New Yorker; nightmare, if a Chicagoan. Is he retiring and, like Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, making his farewell appearances? Maybe he'll hang up the Air Jordans in a decade or two, but certainly not now. So what's all the fuss about? Simply that this is the first time during the 1988-89 season that the world's most exciting basketball player is visiting New York. A JORDAN FOR PRESIDENT sign even appears in the stands, a semiserious calling to a higher order.
For now, Michael Jeffrey Jordan is high enough, thank you. As he enters his fifth year in the National Basketball Association, he is the hottest player in America's hottest sport. Only 25, Jordan has already won every major individual award the NBA has to offer. He was Rookie of the Year after his first season. After his third, he became the first player not named Wilt to break the 3,000-point barrier. Last season he captured an unprecedented triple crown of NBA honors: Most Valuable Player, Defensive Player of the Year and top scorer to boot. This season, averaging more than 34 points a game, Jordan could be headed for his third consecutive scoring title. He has pulled the once dreadful Chicago Bulls into the play-offs four years running and contributed mightily toward rejuvenating a deadly dull league that only seven years ago was being lampooned as the National Buffoon Association. Small wonder some sportscasters call Jordan "Superman in Shorts."
Such high-flying praise is all the more astounding given Jordan's size. At 6 ft. 6 in., he is a full inch shorter than the average NBA player, but he transcends his handicap by spending most of his time above the others. His perfectly proportioned frame (his 205 lbs. include a minuscule 4% body fat vs. 7% for most well-conditioned athletes and 15% for an average male in the U.S.) soars up, around and over the mere mortals he opposes. Most guards, being "smaller" men, prefer the quiet of the perimeter to the violent collisions of leviathans under the hoop. But Jordan is most dangerous around the basket, with his arsenal of double-clutch lay-ups and hyperspace dunks over men very nearly a foot taller. Through it all, Jordan's tongue dangles from his mouth, his universally recognized trademark and a testament to his intense concentration.
For Jordan, the world of basketball is a world without bounds. He gyrates, levitates and often dominates. Certainly he fascinates. In arenas around the country, food and drink go unsold because fans refuse to leave their seats for fear of missing a spectacular Jordan move to tell their grandchildren about. Bulls assistant coach Phil Jackson admits that the Jordan Freeze affects seasoned veterans. "Even I get caught up in Michael's show," he says. "I try not to, but sometimes I just sit back and enjoy."