Dear Michael Jordan

Apollo Fields | Dear Blank | Dear Michael Jordan

“Dear Michael Jordan,

For what it’s worth—I don’t think it was a push off— and I’m the kind of guy to tell the ref when I touched the ball last. Sorry not sorry Byron Russell, you got got.

I wonder what it’s like to have that killer instinct that both you and Kobe had, that sort of arrogant, competitive anger. Does it run through Everything you do? Like, are you mean-mugging when whisking your scrambled eggs in the morning? Has the impulse waned since you’ve left the hard-court?

The best highlight of my athletic career came in a game of whiffle ball against my little brother when I was like 12. I was about to blow a huge lead in the bottom of the last inning when my brother hit a line drive back to the mound, rocketing through the air behind my back about 4-5 feet. I leapt in the air and threw my hand back while spinning to catch the ball mid-air to end the game. My best play came out of desperation.

How much did you think when you were playing? In those crunch moments, did you ever feel desperate? Or is the blood really cold in your veins? I like to think that people like you and Kobe never felt fear on the court—only off of it—like the lights of the arena coated you in a warrior’s armor.

I get that feeling in a group of people, specifically when my wife and I are hosting a dinner party. Maybe it’s the booze but I never feel awkward in silence; and the more strangers the better. It’s not as much about power or competition for me as much as it is about community. I feel invulnerable when I connect people.

I hope this message finds you in great health and that you are still out there dunking on people.

A grateful 90s kid,

Terrence”