By Josh Wolk
Updated February 03, 1999 at 05:00 AM EST
Michael Jordan, Playing for Keeps: Michael Jordan and the World He Made
  • Movie

“That was god disguised as Michael Jordan,” said Larry Bird after the Chicago Bulls star scored 63 points against Bird’s Celtics in a 1986 play-off game. And when God retires, the world grinds to a halt. Jordan’s farewell to basketball, announced on Jan. 13, was stop-the-presses news, bumping minor incidents like the impeachment of the President back to page 37.

God is in fact somewhat less universally admired than Jordan, the most famous man in the world. Adventurers who stumble into remote African villages or nomadic encampments in Mongolia find small children wearing the No. 23 Bulls jersey. His image is everywhere, and his miracles, like conjuring up last year’s NBA championship with a last-minute steal and picture-perfect jump shot, are recited like chapter and verse. And then there’s his awe-inspiring Midas touch. Fortune magazine estimated his cumulative economic impact — tickets sold, NBA broadcast contracts fattened, products endorsed — at $10 billion.

It’s probably easier to go to pieces than to come to terms with this phenomenon, this heroic, fiercely proud, immensely charming, soft-spoken man endowed with transcendent athletic skill, will, and grace, who’s also a cultural and commercial juggernaut. Faced with this daunting task, David Halberstam’s new book ”Playing for Keeps: Michael Jordan and the World He Made” sometimes resembles ”Lives of the Saints,” sometimes a dire prophecy about worshiping golden calves (as opposed to sterling Bulls), sometimes a detective report that tails everyone who has ever crossed Jordan’s path. But it’s a solid and compelling book, even if it doesn’t offer any major surprises about its hero and barely touches his private life (Jordan had initially agreed to be interviewed in 1997 but backed out). Despite its zigzag approach, it zeroes in on Jordan’s defining moments, on court and off, and Halberstam’s crosscutting, anecdote-fetching method plays to the strengths exhibited in his other books (including ”The Best and the Brightest,” ”Summer of ’49,” and a previous basketball book, ”The Breaks of the Game”).

The thumbnail biographical sketches in the book — for instance, of Jordan’s coaches Dean Smith and Phil Jackson — resemble parables of old-fashioned integrity or (in the case of some agents, owners, and players) parables of corruption by power and money. In fact, the whole book takes shape as a paradoxical parable. The underlying theme is that Jordan, the greatest player in the history of the game, drew unprecedented crowds, publicity, and money to it, which didn’t corrupt him but did corrupt the sport. It’s unlikely that younger stars, with their contracts and TV commercials handed to them on a platter, can ever match his devout and disciplined mastery.


  • Movie
  • R
  • Stephen Norrington