My Lunch with Michael Jordan: Outside the Spotlight, Still All Business
When you receive this phone call—"You're invited to have lunch with Michael Jordan"—what's one of the first things you do? You think about what suit you're going to wear for your first, and likely only, encounter with arguably the world's most famous athlete. You can't show up looking anything but your best for a meeting with the G.O.A.T.
"If you walk into a room with Michael, the first thing he's going to do is look at you from head to toe," said Fred Whitfield, his longtime friend and current Charlotte Hornets executive, in one of Jordan's books, Driven From Within.
So with a fresh blue suit packed, I arrived in Charlotte to join a select group of basketball writers for an intimate discussion with Jordan as he basked in the glow of the season opener, which came with a new court and locker room and a celebration of the return of the Hornets' team name.
But at lunch the following day, I had a chance to see Jordan outside the spotlight. It was a rare press appearance for a man who's been the majority owner in Charlotte since 2010 and is the standard against whom other elite players are judged.
It was noon when I entered the Time Warner Cable Arena's exclusive BackCourt Club for courtside seat holders, where the Hornets catered a small meal of salad and cold cuts. Thirty minutes later, Jordan arrived as scheduled.
Jordan's entrance was simple. There was no procession behind him as he emerged from a draped-off area, no TV cameras documenting his arrival—only the eyes of eight reporters all fixed on him, a couple snapping photos on their phones. It was just him walking in, wearing a gray, long-sleeved casual shirt with the Hornets insignia, black warm-up pants and the newest Air Jordan XIII "Hornets" Player Edition sneakers in white with the team's teal color. No flashy suit—just his trademark hoop earring and a simple gold necklace.
This was Jordan now, far removed from the flash. "He's more casual," a Hornets spokesperson said. "Sometimes suits."
The informality extends even to how he gets to work. He occasionally walks the three blocks from his penthouse apartment. While downtown Charlotte is quiet during the day, the notion of Jordan strolling to the office doesn't seem real.
Despite the relaxed appearance, an air of formality filled the room. This wasn't Jordan on the court or in the locker room, but Jordan on his turf. The players, uniforms, players' lounge, the carpeting inside the arena entrances—even the backlighting for team logos in the arena's upper level—all came with Jordan's involvement and approval.
So did his interaction with the media on this day, which he usually limits to the preseason and postseason. He wants the focus on his team as he works behind the scenes, much like his friend and NHL legend Mario Lemieux does as a co-owner of the Pittsburgh Penguins. Jordan looks to reserve the bulk of his public appearances in support of the Hornets' community initiatives, as opposed to the spotlight he once dominated.
"MJ rarely attends away games because he doesn't want to deal with all the rah rah," Hornets general manager Rich Cho said.
When Jordan walked into the room, he looked to be in good shape at 51, still sporting his mustache. It wasn't a stretch to believe he could still drop buckets on you just on fadeaways.
Even with his understated entrance, Jordan's presence elicited the feeling, for a basketball guy, of meeting the president—sans the personal security. Jordan's "cabinet" of longtime advisers, who are also involved with the Hornets, were present: Curtis Polk (who runs his overall company JUMP.DC in Washington, D.C., and is the Hornets' vice chairman), Estee Portnoy (his business manager and spokeswoman) and Whitfield (a former Nike and Jordan Brand executive who is now the Hornets' president). They are only together in Charlotte a couple of times per month, so you knew the lunch was a special occasion.
Also in the room were Pete Guelli, the team's chief sales and marketing officer, as well as James Jordan, one of MJ's two older brothers, who oversees the Hornets' arena operations. "He runs the business and I'm an employee," said James, a Hornets colleague of Jordan's other brother, Larry (director of player personnel), and MJ's daughter, Jasmine (basketball operations coordinator). "I have to answer up to him. I've got to be accountable and establish yourself like everybody else, and forget about the [Jordan] name."
A Hornets spokesperson didn't waste any time introducing the boss. "Michael's here, so we'll have him grab a seat and just open it up for questions and answers. Keep them Hornets-related as opposed to who's better: Kobe or LeBron?" That ignited Jordan's competitive juices, responding in a direct manner to make it seem like neither was on his level. "I don't know who's better," he said, as the whole room laughed.
In that regard, Jordan hasn't changed. His business team explained that the boss displays a teasing and competitive sense of humor. Often, he'll start a meeting by joking around to get people to feel comfortable around him because he knows he's a big presence.
Without stopping at the buffet or even grabbing a drink, Jordan took his seat, above everyone else on a high chair in the middle of a U-shaped table with reporters and his business team. It was as if everyone was looking up to "God disguised as Michael Jordan," as Larry Bird once famously said. Jordan leaned in toward the group, as if he was on the bench listening to Phil Jackson.
When Jordan addressed the reporters, it was right to the point: "What's up, guys. Questions for me?" Jordan, who was all business years ago in his game preparation, playing and postgame interviews, was the same here.
"Typical MJ," the spokesperson assessed later after observing the lunch.
The first question sparked a flame in the intense, I-will-own-you-on-the-court-looking Jordan. "Michael, there seems to be this notion that you're a better owner today..." He looked away for a second and shook his head slightly, seemingly not expecting the first question to be in-your-face, while signaling some frustration over that statement with the Hornets having made the playoffs last season.
"You have to define what better is," said Jordan, who was a Washington Wizards minority owner from 2000-01 and then joined the then-Bobcats as a part-owner in 2006. "Am I a more experienced owner? Yes...But it's amazing what winning does. Winning makes you better. I always considered myself an owner that was very dedicated to trying to do the best job to bring the best team here to the city of Charlotte."
It's in Charlotte where Jordan is about 70 percent of the year, according to the spokesperson, working out of a spacious office that includes photos of his college coach Dean Smith, a special print featuring his first title-winning shot on the top (1982 with UNC) and his last on the bottom (1998 with the Chicago Bulls), a collectible honoring the retirement of his close friend Derek Jeter, and several pairs of his Air Jordans.
According to Cho, in addition to being around for training camp, the trade deadline, the draft and free agency, Jordan attends about 25 home games a year. "Overall, he's very accessible," Cho said. "He even Skypes."
Jordan swiveled his head to face each question. Once you had his attention, Jordan offered a distinctive, almost intimidating look when asked a question. As one started talking, his head was turned slightly away, but his eyes remained trained on the speaker, occasionally flashing just the hint of a raised eyebrow. It was a look of intrigue mixed with a sense of I've-probably-heard-this-one-before. When comfortable with the question, he gave his full attention. Jordan, ever on the alert, is well-prepared for these press gatherings.
Sixteen questions came Jordan's way in a whoever-wants-to-ask-next setting, covering everything from the Hornets' $4.5 million re-branding (he incorporated Jordan Brand into the creative process) to his evolution as an owner (he's learned to be patient, hands-on and empower his staff more) to the team's front-office formula (he wants to emulate the San Antonio Spurs).
Jordan answered everything in a tone mostly serious and straightforward—even in response to a question about taking over the Hornets' Twitter account to interact with fans for one day in late October. "I've never been one of the guys who gets fascinated to let everybody know what I'm doing every minute of the day," he said. "It's amazing how things have happened now in this era. I never thought that me drinking coffee or me photobombing would be that big of a deal."
No matter the question, there was little room allowed for offbeat moments, pushing me to carefully think about my questions. My curiosity had to come out right.
There were times, though, Jordan's answers weren't so matter-of-fact, when one could almost see the wheels in his head spinning madly, contemplating questions that have long followed him, to which he answered almost to himself as much as the reporter. For example, when asked about his thoughts on this year being the 30th anniversary of his rookie season, Jordan turned the magnifying glass on himself.
"Do I ever have thoughts of wishing I could still play the game? Yeah," he responded. "That's human nature. But those are short thoughts until I pick up a ball or my knees start to hurt. I'm good. I'm right where I need to be."
That sentiment was clear even before the lunch, when Jordan could be seen earlier that morning taking part in Hornets shootaround on the practice court inside the arena. Although he wasn't participating with the players as he did at times a couple of years ago—he's more mindful of his knees and puts more trust in the coaching staff, according to his associates—he was enjoying himself sitting on the sideline, engaged in lighthearted banter with Cho and head coach Steve Clifford.
"When you walk around this building, you can see the enjoyment and the fun that's coming to this building based on the success of what this team is doing," Jordan later told our group. "That is a much better feeling than three years ago when everybody was moping around and wondering what their job is going to be."
Jordan told the reporters during the lunch that he talks to the players "to give them an education about their love for the game because ultimately that's what I expect for them." He's even been known to ask for a film edit so he can share what he sees on the court with certain players, and sometimes he offers support during games next to the team's bench among four seats he's purchased.
"He's very much a fundamentalist from high school to Dean Smith to Phil Jackson," Clifford told me before the lunch. "He doesn't just see athleticism. He's looking at basketball IQ, he's looking at decision-making, he's looking at are they fundamentally sound? So when he watches workouts, he's talking about a pivot or a face-up—stuff like that. He's very detailed. Also, team culture and work ethic are important to him."
With about five minutes remaining in the allotted half-hour with Jordan, the Hornets spokesperson said, "Guys, we'll take a few more, OK?" Indeed, despite the personal invitation to attend this event, this was still a press conference—business.
It's easy to forget this is routine for Jordan, whose presence fans around the globe once clamored to view but now finds himself alone as the first African-American player to become a majority owner in the NBA. "It is a road that I'd love to see other guys follow and hopefully they get the opportunity," he said. "I went through that road that led to this ownership and I made some mistakes, but I'm better for that."
Thirty minutes after he arrived, without being prompted, Jordan asked, "All right?" noting time was up. But he squeezed in a quick pleasantry to a reporter taking a picture of him: "Is that a Twitter thing?" The whole room laughed.
As Jordan casually walked toward the exit, he shook hands with only those who approached him. To get to Jordan, you still had to wait your turn if you got close enough, and each interaction was short. As for mine? "Hey, Mike, I know you're a big suit guy. I made sure to dress up for today." While shaking my hand, he said, smiling, "You didn't have to do that." And he was already on his way.
