You Never See Moves Like This

I have a confession to make. All my life what I really wanted to be was an opera singer.

But that’s not unusual. Almost everyone wants to be something he’s not. Placido Domingo probably wants to be a sportswriter.

I have known movie stars--Paul Newman comes to mind--who would rather be race drivers. Jockeys probably wish they could be basketball players. We all fantasize about being something else. Bartenders want to be Secretary of State. Secretaries of State probably dream of owning a bar.

But when you’re the best in the world at what you do, why wouldn’t you let it go at that? Accept what you are? Get on with it?

Let me ask you something. Has there ever been anyone who played basketball better than Michael Jordan? Did God give him some of the most extraordinary talents ever visited on a human being? Like, almost the ability to fly? I mean, how many people do you know right offhand who can hang in the air for minutes at a time or soar along like a 747 defiant of gravity? You ever see anyone who can hover in the air like Mary Poppins, only he doesn’t need the umbrella? He’s “Air Jordan.” He’s the identified flying object. He should be licensed as an aircraft.

You’d think that would be enough for him. Take the money and jump. Stay at what you do best. I mean, did Edison take up channel-swimming?

But no. Michael got bored up there. He was so good, it got monotonous.

So, he wanted a career change. OK. Happens to a lot of people. A doctor recently moved over to be a rap musician. Lawyers turn newscasters. Prime ministers take up painting.

Maybe you think Michael wants a career in politics? Wants to be governor?

Nope. Michael wants to be a baseball player. You heard me. He wants to opt for that quaint turn-of-the-century sport where three strikes you’re out, the ball is only five inches and you have no 24-second clock.

It’s a strange career choice. Look, if you stopped 10 kids on a playground anywhere in this country and asked them which sport they would rather star in, basketball or baseball, chances are eight out of 10, or more, would answer basketball. If you asked them which they would rather be, Michael Jordan or Barry Bonds, they might say, “Barry Who?” It wouldn’t surprise me if Barry Bonds said he’d rather be a basketball player.

Pro basketball is the “in” sport. Baseball is having trouble keeping its TV contracts, its grip on the public generally.

Michael Jordan has always been restive. Not so long ago, his sport of choice seemed to be golf. He thought he might be the next Jack Nicklaus. Until a few million-dollar Nassaus disabused him. I mean, if he couldn’t beat a small-time hustler out of San Diego, what would he do with the real Jack Nicklaus?

Baseball should be flattered. The greatest basketball player, by common consent, of all the ages of the game has opted for the grand old game. You couldn’t script one better than that. Holy hot dog! Buy me some peanuts and Crackerjack, I’m going to go out and see Michael Jordan try to hit a knuckler, do to Roger Clemens what he did to Charles Barkley.

You have to admire Jordan’s chutzpah. At stake, no less, is his reputation as an all-time athlete.

I have regarded Jackie Robinson as the greatest athlete I have ever seen for one reason: He could play and excel in major league baseball. He could hit the curveball, which Ted Williams said is the single most difficult thing to do in sports. Sports lore has it that Jim Thorpe was the greatest athlete who ever lived--until they found out he couldn’t hit the major league curveball.

Jackie Robinson could. It separated him from the field. He could run track (sprints, long jump) at an Olympian level, he was a great basketball player, an All-American in football--and he could hit the curve.

Can Michael Jordan? I hope so. But I doubt it.

You see, you get to be a major league baseball player not by walking off the half-court line in Chicago Stadium and putting on a uniform that says “White Sox” across the front.

You become a ballplayer by playing in the Sally League (or its modern equivalent) or the American Assn. or the Pacific Coast League till you hone your skills, get smart, learn what pitches to jump on and which to lay off. And so on. It’s a little like diamond-cutting. You need an apprenticeship. And today, it seems, you need to be second-generation.

It’s not lightly learned. Only a handful of players ever started out at the major league level and stayed there. Sandy Koufax comes to mind. But even Babe Ruth started in the minors. Jackie Robinson started in the Negro Leagues.

Nine years in the NBA hardly qualifies. You can’t dunk a baseball any more than you can a putt.

There is an additional consideration: Michael Jordan is 6 feet 6.

That, dear fans, is a lot of strike zone. That gives a pitcher a lot of real estate around the plate. I mean, he can throw a pitch that is almost impossible to hit--and it can still be a strike. Don’t look for Michael Jordan to get a lot of unintentional bases on balls. Don’t look for him to get a lot of good pitches to hit.

Does this mean Michael Jordan can’t make it? Well, put it this way: I certainly hope he can. I cannot think of a greater shot in the arm for the national pastime. I hope he’s Babe Ruth. Or Jackie Robinson.

Do I think he can? Regrettably, in a word, no.

But I’ll tell you one thing: If he makes it, I’m going down to the Metropolitan Opera first thing the very next morning.