Michael Jordan, the NBA, and the dream of an impossible comeback

Michael Jordan says he would like to take a magic pill to come back. How strange the competition is, which is made with that fire. The loss is revealed in his eyes. It is a loss that hurts, that embraces the nostalgia of previous times. Of impregnable feats. From a VHS narrative that crossed generations, that was a spark for those who came. Which was envy for those who were there. Which was admiration for those who were no longer here.

That it was persecution for everyone.

Jordan, the GOAT, the one who doesn’t speak because he has an army of faithful who speak for himbare the soul. Those accustomed to esotericism say that it weighs 21 grams. But here it weighs a ton, because in that outline of humanity drags an entire generation to the useless goal of wanting to beat time. To close your eyes tightly to listen to the music again. To feel the roar, the red jacket, the white jacket, the tiger’s eye. The legs that are elastic again.

Icarus, then, was right: it turns out that a man could finally fly. Wings in the wind. And this time, it won’t get sunburned.

It is not seen, but it is perceived. That’s what MJ is talking about. To return somewhere. To feel again.

To live again.

There is no honorable retirement. There is, unfortunately, the withdrawal. A highly competitive athlete never finishes saying goodbye. He may imply that he decides. You can whisper it. Say it. Even shout it. But that is a lie to convince yourself; no one leaves in the fullness of their arts. Nobody leaves 25 years old with the sky chanting their last name. It is time, lapidary, intransigent, voracious, cruel, that makes the decision for him. The one who says: you’ve come this far. The mind continues to move, but the muscles prefer something else. The subsequent enjoyment is appearance. It is a self-convince to pursue the end of all things: happiness.

On the course, there are all kinds of competitors. They are sparks, little fires, that gather one after another. Some become extinct quickly. Others gush a little stronger. And there are others, the extreme competitors, the Jordans, those who With their impossible imprint they managed to feed souls to start fires, which can never be put out.. After playing they no longer live: They only live with their DNA. Different, obtuse, they conquer the extraordinary precisely by breaking away from the norm. And after excelling, the downturn, the suffering, is inevitable. The world, in some way, does not belong to them. Lions that run out of prey to chase. The warrior’s rest is never enough, and here, believe me: money or fame does not matter.

Jordan, in addition to wanting to be Jordan again, He tells us that he also wants to be Mike again.. And in that, dear friends, yes it looks like us. Who doesn’t want to return to the place that made them happy? At the moment when everything, absolutely everything, was about to be written. The smells and flavors of childhood that could never be equaled. Afternoons with friends. The cassettes with Side A and Side B. The walkman. Tube television. The perfect moment, which at that moment we didn’t know was perfect, in which we were still all around a table.

In the eyes of his majesty are reflected, in some way, all the eyes. Travel in time. The nostalgia of being again. Sailors of impossible voyages. Embrace uncertainty, navigate the oceans of the unpredictable, write once again on the blank page. With successes, with mistakes, with what we have to live with.

Play it again, Sam. In its flight, before with the legs, today with the thought, all flights rest. Those who were, those who are, and those who will be.

Yes, I wish there was that magic pill.

Go back somewhere. The dream of return is, without a doubt, the impossible dream. But that doesn’t mean we should stop trying.

Michael Jordan takes off. And together with him, we take off, all of us.