Nearly every basketball-loving child raised in the ’90s had an approximation of the same dream: To be Michael Jordan. Whether you mimicked his moves — switching hands in the air for a layup, posterizing Patrick Ewing, hitting a mid-range jumper off of a push off — or his persona — shrugging your shoulders or leaping atop the scorers table to count his titles — Jordan oozed charisma and cool.



He also had the best home introduction. The scene was iconic: The lights dimmed in Chicago, a bull stampeded through the streets of Chicago on the video board while the ominous strains of The Alan Parsons Project played on the speakers, first at the Chicago Stadium and then at the United Center. The public address announcer would introduce the starters one-by-one before finally getting to Jordan. “From North … Carolina,” and so forth. By the time he got to Jordan, however, he usually was already in the team huddle, essentially following the...