- 3,678
- 2,080
- Joined
- Dec 11, 2005
From Reddit
"
TL, DR: my MJ story. Throwaway, I'm a lurker.
If you live in Chicago, there are a handful of casinos you can go to, but arguably the nicest one is the Horseshoe in Hammond, IN. You can go there almost any day of the week and play almost any game, and at some point in the night, someone will bring the conversation around to MJ. If you happen to play poker or craps, you'll usually cut down on the degrees of separation and hear from someone who actually saw (or claims to have seen, FWIW) MJ play because they're apparently his favorite games. There are lots of stories I've heard, but here's mine:
This happened mid 2000s. I didn't grow up in Chicago, never was a Bulls fan, didn't go through the hero-worship, but I understood it. The guy was a legend, I can respect that. My friends who grew up in Chicago did their best to indoctrinate me. One friend in particular, a tiny, feisty, full-hearted, asthmatic but incredibly athletically achieved Japanese girl (Izzy, you're the best) who grew up in the suburbs led the charge. She, as a graduate student, had an MJ poster on her wall, and another on the ceiling over her bed. She could make you live his last championship three pointer with the way she got excited about telling you where she was and how she felt when she saw it. She also carried around his baseball card in the hopes of one day getting him to sign it.
One night, a group of us are at the Horseshoe celebrating the end of a semester. Izzy doesn't gamble, but she knows MJ plays there sometimes, and has come along just on the chance that he'll be there. This was, I believe, the third time she has come along with us just for that reason.
We're playing craps, and having a blast. We're excited and young and getting drunk, it's a good night. Our group is at one end of the craps table, when we see the players at the other end standing taller to look over us at something. We turn around, and there he is, at the center and towards the front of this decent sized group of people. People to either side are hushing up and craning their necks, but he's just walking, staring straight ahead, not even talking to his group.
Some people have it in them to try to walk up to him, I wouldn't have. His demeanor is saying nothing but, "Don't bother me." But some people do, and he does stop for a few of them. Looking back, they were both blondes with tight clothes, but that didn't click with me. It didn't click with Izzy either, she starts to panic a little bit and her face turns red. She takes a few quick breaths before she says, to herself mostly, "This is it. This is it. Oh my god."
Before I even realize she's gone, she's halfway to him and he's done signing the blondes' chests or whatever. He starts walking again by the time she gets to him, and I remember what happened next like I was watching a slow-mo replay.
He's walking toward us, Izzy's back is to us, and she's only a few feet away from him. I can tell she has both her hands forward with the card, obviously looking for an autograph. She told us later that at that moment she had just opened her mouth to introduce herself. Without looking down (she's barely 5 feet tall), without breaking stride, he puts his hand up, grabs her face like he's palming a basketball, and twists/pushes her head out of his way. Her head is almost twisted completely around and facing us, eyes closed and mouth scrunched against his hand, before she's off to his side and he's moving on. It was like he was pushing open a door. She stumbles a few steps and falls over, and one of his entourage almost trips over her before helping her up and apologizing for him.
By this time, MJ is right next to us at the craps table, still looking straight ahead, but he has this smirk on his face I will never forget.
I was pissed. He didn't have to sign ****, he didn't even have to stop and say hi. But basic human decency stops way before grabbing someone's face and shoving them out of your way.
Izzy was shocked, and quiet for the rest of the night. At times, she was near tears, but never let us see them. Now, she was the first to say that he didn't owe her anything and is free to do what he wants. I noticed the next time I'm at her place, though, that the posters aren't there anymore. And as far as I know, she never told her story about his championship three pointer again."
So a girl from Chicago went around telling people jordans last shot with Chicago was a 3 pointer
