Who is the greatest GOAT of them all? And how do you measure greatness anyway? We invited our writers to rank their top 10 greatest athletes of all time, and asked some to write about their favourites. We’ll publish one GOAT a day this week. On Saturday, we’ll reveal our top 50, based on our experts’ votes.
Michael Jordan did not inspire people in the manner of Muhammad Ali, although he did inspire millions to buy Nike sneakers, guzzle Gatorade and attempt improbable slam dunks.
Where Ali was – eventually – revered for his principles and willingness to make a stand, Jordan was a product of a more commercial sporting culture, in which athletes themselves were products, or what we now call “brands”.
In the documentary on Jordan and his Chicago Bulls, The Last Dance, African-American writer Nathan McCall drew a contrast between Ali, who had advocated for black civil rights (and was stripped of his title for refusing to enter the draft for Vietnam) and the more pragmatic and commercially conscious Jordan.
“Ultimately, Michael Jordan may be forgotten,” said McCall, in a clip from around 1990, before Jordan had started his winning run of six NBA titles.
The astounding interest in Jordan when The Last Dance was released, during 2020’s COVID-19 pandemic, suggests that, whatever Jordan’s failings, he is in no danger of being erased from collective memories.
In deciding between Jordan and Ali as my greatest sporting figure, I’ve opted for the less uplifting figure, for the man who regularly admonished and dissed teammates, who could be an intolerant bully, who did not demonstrate much in the way of empathy, and who – most notably – seemed unapologetic for the hurt he inflicted in his drive to win.
Jordan made the case during the documentary that his domineering ways – born of an almost unhinged competitive will – were heavily responsible for the Bulls’ run of six NBA championships; that if he could be callous, he did so for the greater good of the team.
“The way I go about my life is I set examples,” said Jordan, often filmed with a glass of scotch, or something, at his side. “If it inspires you? Great, I will continue to do that. If it doesn’t? Then maybe I’m not the person you should be following.”
Jordan, in my view, was even better at his (first) sport than Ali in the ring, Jack Nicklaus or Tiger Woods on fairways and greens, Michael Phelps in swimming, Simone Biles in gymnastics, or even Donald Bradman at the crease.
Recency bias is so potent that there will be those who reckon LeBron James has Jordan covered. My retort is that LeBron did not influence the outcome of games and seasons to nearly the extent of “MJ”, irrespective of statistical measures. Jordan was the difference, as evident when he stepped away to pursuit his quixotic dream of Major League Baseball for 18 months; in that interim, the Bulls couldn’t bring home the bacon, despite Scottie Pippen et al.
Jordan is a compelling character study, since his success implicitly asks whether it takes someone with unhealthy degrees of self-focus, drive and ruthlessness to achieve at the absolute apex of professional sport. Do you need to be imbalanced, potentially with a touch of nastiness, to conquer the sporting planet?
One would hope not, but it is noteworthy that Bradman, too, was known for taking no prisoners in his approach and for less than empathetic dealings with teammates, or with those, such as the Chappells, who crossed from traditional Test to World Series Cricket when “the Don” was chairman of the Australian Cricket Board.
Jordan was the world’s most recognised athlete in his day, by some distance. A survey of Australians in the early ’90s found that he was this country’s most popular sportsman when he had never set foot on the fatal shores.
He was also the athlete, more than any, who transformed the nature of marketing in sport and of selling products – the Air Jordan shoe, primarily – to a global audience.
Jordan took the platform created by Magic Johnson and Larry Bird in the 1980s and elevated his sport to a global phenomenon. The NBA took flight with him as co-pilot; today, it is stocked with the best from eastern and western Europe, plus a few Australians.
In nominating Jordan as sporting history’s top dog, I take account of competition.
It is harder to outshine everyone in a sport played by half a billion than one that has only 20 million participating. Basketball is not as popular as soccer – and height is a barrier at the highest level – but Jordan is further ahead of the pack and more dominant than Pele, who vies with Diego Maradona and Lionel Messi (our experts’ choice) for supremacy in the most ubiquitous code.
Post career, Jordan went on to join the billionaire brigades, having invested and sold his shares in the Charlotte Hornets and bought a NASCAR team. Forbes estimates his wealth at $US3.5 billion. Nike, surely, made billions from his image.
He enriched himself, but he also enriched – and provided wonder and awe – to all who saw him soar.
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