It’s OK to Admit You’ve Thought About It…

Airness…Witness…Greatness

It’s okay to admit it. I finally did it the other day. It was on a Saturday night, but it just as easily could’ve been on a Tuesday. Others had long-since alluded to it, even so-called experts, but I was reluctant to say the least. I’d tried to deny it for a very long time, but then, just like that, it finally happened.

You see, I was born in 1977. I grew up with Him. He was the gold standard. Nobody could ever compare to Him. NO-BODY. It was not a topic even open for debate. To engage in such discussion was blasphemous. Dwayne? Kobe? Dwight? Tim? Nice players, but none could hold a candle to Him. But then, on Saturday night, I did it for the first time. I dared to compare someone to His Airness. I didn’t say it out loud, or even write about it. It was only in my head, but I did. The craziest thing? I’m not even ashamed about it.

I’m 31 years old. To say I really remembered his jumper against the Hoyas in ’82 would a stretch. However, when #23 first began taking the League by storm in 1985 I was on the early side of the ascending arc of my sports fan prime. I watched him throughout his career and was mesmerized like so many others of “my generation.” My Jordan Jammer stood like a monument in my basement, his “Wings” extended across my walls and “Come Fly with Me” was almost permanently in the VCR.

Jordan is still the greatest. However, I have now truly become a Witness. Call me converted, but LBJ has managed to slowly and slyly wiggle his way into the consideration set. Forget about the numbers comparisons. This is all about the very unscientific variable called “feel.” Those of us who watched Jordan during the peak of his career, remember what it felt like. For lack of a better non-cliched description, you knew you were watching something special. MJ made NBA games events. Weekend network broadcasts of NBA match-ups transformed into must-see television as long as the Bulls were playing…anyone.

When Jordan was locked in, it was apparent not only in his jumper and his drives but in his eyes, his body language, his swagger. It was during those games that I would watch and eagerly anticipate every offensive possession virtually imploring the ball to get into Jordan’s hands. You simply wanted him to own the halfcourt, for everything to run through him — and it did. He made the unwatchable infinitely watchable. I was sure back then, and in the many years to follow, that there was no player who would ever re-create that sense.

I was wrong. I find myself seeing, feeling and enjoying the same things courtesy of LeBron James. I tuned into game after game of the recently (and mercilessly) concluded Hawks series for one reason and one reason only — LBJ. He alone made the series palatable. I sat in awe during his 47 point, 12 board 8 assist outburst in game three. He was vintage Jordan. With the ball in his hands, the outcome of each possession seemed completely in the King’s court. I’d seen this all before but was startled to be viewing it again.

Whether James can ever lay legitimate claim to the title of basketball’s greatest is still very much to be determined. But, for now, the topic has become worthy of conversation for this fan – and that’s saying something. No offense, MJ.