I was born and raised in Chicago and idolized Jordan growing up. But, unexpectedly, The Last Dance has made me gravitate towards LeBron
I am hard pressed to name another athlete who has dominated my life quite like Michael Jeffrey Jordan. You see, I was born in Chicago a few years before he arrived in town and I came of age as he himself blossomed from a college hero into a global icon. Somewhere deep inside an armoire drawer, I have a t-shirt that reads: “Sorry Sir Charlie, You Can’t Be Like Mike” – a disintegrating curbside souvenir from Game 3 of the 1993 NBA finals, one of a dozen-odd Bulls games I was lucky enough to attend during the team’s storybook run. When ESPN announced plans for The Last Dance documentary, I felt vindicated. Here, at last, was the Air-tight argument that would put basketball’s all important greatest of all time debate to rest. LeBron James stans would have no choice but to bow down to the man who unironically calls himself “Black Jesus”.
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