1998 Michael Jordan Left No Doubt...

And the Chicago Bulls have won their first ever NBA championship. The Chicago Bulls have won. What did the fifth one mean to you, Michael? An opportunity to go for the sixth one, I hope. We're ready to take on next. No matter how you look at it, as long as we can continue to win, I think we should have an opportunity to defend what we have. Michael Jordan was 35 and still, arguably, the most dominant athlete in professional sports. As he led Chicago into Salt Lake City for Game 6, he was nearing the end of his career. Yet, in many ways, he was a more complete player than ever before. What his body could no longer achieve through sheer athleticism, he made up for with his unmatched knowledge of the game and of his opponents. There was a new quality to his game now, an iciness in the way he dissected defences after returning from his baseball hiatus. When Jordan came back to basketball in 1995, after a year and a half away, he spent that summer in Hollywood, filming Space Jam. But he demanded the producers build him a basketball court, right on the Warner Brothers lot, so he could train every single day. Old NBA friends who dropped by noticed something. Jordan was obsessed with refining a particular move. It was already part of his repertoire, but he was turning it into a weapon. A jumper, where he'd hold the ball, fake a drive, then fall back just enough to create the perfect separation before releasing. If you've ever watched even one highlight reel of Jordan, you know the shot I'm talking about. Because of his threat to blow-by defenders and his ability to rise over them, that fadeaway became virtually unguardable. More than that, it was a smart evolution. A veteran's adjustment to time's toll, it marked the beginning of a new stage in his career. What the basketball world was now seeing was something that had once been masked by his athletic gifts, a relentless, calculated hunger to dominate everything in his path. MJ's former coach, Doug Collins, said, he wants to cut your heart out and then show it to you. Boston Globe columnist, Bob Ryan, called him Hannibal Lecter. And when a reporter asked Bulls centre, Luke Longley, for one word to describe Jordan, Longley didn't hesitate. Predator. By this point, the Bulls had played a lot of basketball across their five championship runs, Everyone felt the wear except Jordan, who had missed only six games in total. Steve Kerr and Luke Longley battled knee injuries, and Scottie Pippen sat out the first 35 games recovering from foot surgery. But here's the thing. The reason the 97-98 season became the Bulls' last dance wasn't because Jordan was slowing down or the roster was falling apart. The team was being torn from within. Before the season even started, general manager Jerry Kraus lit the fuse, saying, players and coaches don't win championships. Organisations win championships. He later claimed the quote was taken out of context, that he meant, But there was a misquote. What I said was that players and coaches alone don't win championships, that organisations do. I do sincerely believe that organisations as a whole win. Didn't matter. The damage was done. That single line set the stage for a power struggle between the locker room and the front office. A story chronicled in real time by the press, and later immortalised in Netflix's The Last Dance. Phil Jackson and Kraus were completely done with each other. Kraus famously declared that the 97-98 season would be Jackson's last, even if the Bulls went 82-0 and won the title again. Jackson, meanwhile, had already toyed with stepping away the previous summer, having long believed no coach should stay in one place more than seven years. But what about Jordan? He made it simple. If Phil wasn't coaching, he wasn't playing. Then there was Pippen, one of the best two-way players in the world, still stuck on a seven-year, $18 million contract that grossly undervalued him. By 97, he was furious. He criticised management publicly while trying to overcome back problems and trade rumours. The front office never moved to fix his deal until it was too late. Pippen wanted a major payday. Rodman, at 37, was a handful. Steve Kerr and several key role players were due for new contracts. It was a storm waiting to happen. You'd think, after everything this group had accomplished, Chicago's front office would find a way to keep it together for one more run. But owner Jerry Reinsdorf sided with Kraus. Even if he'd somehow bridged the divide between Phil and management, he wasn't interested in bringing them back the same cast. He argued that re-signing Pippen, Kerr, Rodman and Ron Harper would have been suicidal given their age, price tags and expected decline. And here's the craziest part. The conversations about tearing it all down didn't happen after the sixth title. As Jordan recalls, The beginning of the season, it started when Jerry Kraus told Phil that he could go 82-0 and he would never get a chance to come back. Knowing that I'd married myself to him and if he wasn't going to be the coach, then obviously I wasn't going to play. So Phil started off the season saying this was the last dance and we played it that way. We were all trying to enjoy that year knowing it was coming to an end. The 97-98 season was a countdown to destruction. Management wanted to rebuild, the players wanted to win and at the centre of it all was Michael Jordan, determined to go out on top. But before they could chase history one last time, the Bulls had to survive a storm. The season opened in chaos. Jordan was on a one-year deal, Phil Jackson and Jerry Kraus' feud had hit its peak and Scottie Pippen sidelined after off-season foot surgery. Without their second superstar, Chicago stumbled to a 9-7 start in November, a rough look for a team that had lost only 10 games two seasons earlier. But even in turmoil, they found their rhythm, ripping off a 15-4 stretch until Pippen finally returned in January. Then came another hit. Steve Kerr fractured his collarbone and was limited to just 50 games. Still, through injuries and front-office drama, the Bulls pushed forward, hitting the All-Star break with a 34-15 record. There were a few bumps when Pippen came back, but once February hit, Chicago caught fire. They lost only two games that month and cruised into the postseason with a 13-game win streak between March and April. They finished 62-20, first in the Central Division, first in the East, and third in the NBA in defensive rating. Jordan, carrying a shorthanded roster, led the league in scoring once again, 28.7 points, 5.8 rebounds and 1.7 steals per game, earning first-team All-NBA, first-team All-Defense and his fifth and final MVP award. While the front office plotted their exit strategy, Jordan plotted wins. Even without key players, the Bulls clawed their way through the season. And when they rounded into form, Chicago reminded the league who they were. Michael Jordan always took his game to another level once the playoffs began. The Bulls stormed through the first round, sweeping the New Jersey Nets in three games. Jordan averaged 36.3 points per game, setting the tome early. In the second round, Chicago handled the Charlotte Hornets in five games, Jordan putting up 29.6 points a night. Then came Indiana, the Eastern Conference Finals, seven games of pure tension. The Pacers weren't the most talented team on paper, but they were relentless, tough, disciplined and fearless. By game seven, the series was hanging by a thread. The game was tied at 79 with just five minutes to play. But when the pressure rose, Chicago's championship DNA took over. Pippen's late layup gave the Bulls 87-83 lead with under two minutes left, and the defense slammed the door shut. Indiana never scored again. Jordan averaged 31.7 points per game in the series and sealed the Bulls' trip to a third straight finals with a 28-point, nine-rebound, eight-assist masterpiece in game seven. And waiting for him on the biggest stage were the Utah Jazz. Utah came into the finals rested, nine full days off after sweeping the Lakers, while the Bulls were bruised and battle-tested from that seven-game war with Indiana. Dennis Rodman was dealing with a thumb injury. Critics said Chicago looked old, vulnerable, maybe even finished. But Jordan wasn't buying any of it. In fact, he wanted Utah. He'd wanted them all season. After the 1997 finals, too many people said the Jazz would have won if they'd had home court advantage. Jordan wanted to prove he could beat them anywhere, even in Salt Lake City. And he wanted to remind the world that while Carmelone was great, there was still a difference between great and the greatest. The Jazz were the model of discipline. They didn't beat themselves. At the Delta Center, one of the loudest arenas in basketball, even a close game could feel suffocating for an opponent. They just embarrassed the young Lakers, Shaquille O'Neal, Nick Van Exel and all, sweeping them in four games. Van Exel summed it up perfectly. Playing them is like the streetball team against a team. Our guys always want to do the fancy, behind-the-back dribbles, the spectacular plays in the dunks, while the Jazz are a bunch of guys doing pick and rolls and the little things. They don't get caught up in the officiating. They don't get down on each other. They don't complain. They stand as a team and stay focused. Utah was smart, well-coached and steady. A machine built on precision, but that precision was also their weakness. The Bulls' coaching staff believed that against great defenses, predictability could become a trap. When the Jazz' system broke down, they didn't have much creativity to fall back on. That was the difference between Carl Malone and Michael Jordan. Both could carry their teams. Both had evolved into all-time greats. But Jordan had something Malone didn't. Instinct, creativity and the ability to create something out of nothing when the play broke down. He could manufacture points when there were none to be had. Game one in Salt Lake City went exactly how you'd expect. Utah fed off that Delta Center crowd and grabbed an 88-85 win. Malone and Stockton executed their system perfectly and the Jazz had their home court advantage back. Chicago wasn't rattled. They'd been here before. Game two, still in Utah, the Bulls flicked the script. Jordan poured in 37 points and Chicago evened the series, 93-88, stealing back home court and headed to the United Center with all the momentum. Then came game three. What happened that night in Chicago was borderline disrespectful. A 96-54 demolition that stands as the largest blowout in NBA Finals history. 42 points. The Jazz couldn't buy a basket and Chicago's defense was suffocating. It was a statement. This dynasty wasn't going anywhere without a fight. Game four was closer, but the result was the same. Bulls, 86, Jazz, 82. Chicago was now up 3-1, one win away from banner number six. But Utah wasn't done yet. Back home for game five, with their season on the line, the Jazz gutted out an 83-81 win in a defensive grind. Jordan had 28, but it wasn't enough. The Jazz forced game six, keeping their championship dreams alive for at least one more night. What happened in game six was pure Michael Jordan. The game started poorly for Chicago. Utah jumped out to a 10-point lead in the first quarter, with Malone dominating down low. The Jazz wanted to establish themselves physically early, and it was working. But Jordan kept his team close, scoring 14 in the opening quarter alone, picking apart Utah's defense, drawing fouls, and making sure the game didn't get away from them. By the end of the first, it was 26-20, Jazz. The second quarter turned into a slugfest. Both teams tightened up defensively, and the pace slowed to a crawl. Utah extended their lead 42-27, and Chicago looked out of sync. But Jordan wouldn't let it spiral. He scored nine more in the quarter, willing his team back into striking distance. Jordan carried the offense, pacing himself, saving energy on defense, picking his spots, conserving for the moments that mattered. By halftime, he already had 23 points, and Utah's lead was just 49-45. Not nearly enough for comfort against a wounded team, with that man still breathing on the other side. Later, Jordan said he never doubted what was coming. He could feel it. Utah had the chance to bury them, and didn't. They simply left the game out there for MJ to steal. And that's exactly what he planned to do. Because if Jordan had one gift beyond his talent, it was his sense of timing. He could read a game like few others, feel its pulse. A lot of players and coaches can watch film after the fact and see what they should have done. Jordan, he could sense the shift before it happened. While others played, Jordan was watching, calculating, always one step ahead. As the fourth quarter opened, Utah's lead sat at just 66-61, the kind of low-scoring grind that favored Chicago. The Bulls chipped away slowly, and with under five minutes left, he was tired at 77. Jordan was running on fumes, missing jumpers, barely lifting off the ground. Assistant coach Tex Winter leaned over to Phil Jackson and suggested Jordan's legs were gone because he was short on most of his missed shots. So during a timeout, Jackson gave it to him straight. Stop settling. Drive it. And then, it was Michael Jordan time. Carl Malone hit a mid-range jumper on an assist from Stockton to push Utah ahead 83-79. But Jordan answered. A drive, a foul from Brian Russell, two clutch free throws, 83-81. Moments later, he attacked again, drew contact from Stockton, and hit two more freebies to tie the game at 83. With under a minute left, Stockton brought the ball up and fed Malone on the block. Chicago sent the double. Malone fired a perfect cross-court pass. Stockton caught, rose, and buried a deep three. Utah 86, Chicago 83, with 41.9 seconds left. The Delta Center erupted. The Jazz fans could taste it. One more stop, and the dynasty was dead. Chicago called timeout. And what happened next will become one of the most replayed sequences in basketball history. During the timeout, Phil Jackson and Michael Jordan discussed the next offensive possession. Jackson reminded him that his legs were gone, that fatigue was flattening his jump shot. The Zen master offered one last piece of guidance. If you have to go for the jumper, you've got to follow through better, Jackson said. You haven't been following through. Coming out of the timeout, the Bulls cleared one side of the floor to isolate Jordan against Brian Russell. Jordan took the inbounds pass near half-court, dribbled deliberately, patient, calculating, then shifted into attack mode. Utah had no chance to double. He blew past Russell down the right side and floated the ball high off the glass. A tough bucket off a big-time drive. 86-85. Utah still with the lead and 37 seconds left. Now the Jazz had their chance. One possession to seal it. Stockton calmly crossed half-court, letting precious seconds melt away. Then, with about 11 left on the shot clock, he fed Malone on the block. But Jordan was already moving. He'd seen this play a thousand times. Knew exactly how Malone would hold the ball. He slipped behind the mailman like a shadow and swiped down. Perfect angle. Perfect timing. No foul. Just the ball in Jordan's hands with 20 seconds left. Jordan said that he remembered how the entire arena seemed to exhale and go quiet. The noise dropped away. The play slowed down. Everything sharpened. The spacing. The rotations. Every heartbeat in the building. He brought the ball up himself, scanning the floor with that same eerie calm. Utah didn't send the double. Steve Kerr was in the right corner, ready if Stockton helped on MJ's drive. Kukoc spotted on the left. Rodman cut from the top of the key, dragging his man with him. That left Jordan, alone. One-on-one with Brian Russell. He let the clock tick. 15 seconds. 10. 8. Then he made his move. A quick jab right. Russell lunged. Jordan drove hard, then stopped on a dime. Russell's momentum carried him left, aided by the slightest touch from Jordan. MJ rose. Smooth. Balanced. Perfectly square. He didn't fade this time. He didn't need to. Russell was already sliding away, helpless. A clean release. Textbook follow-through, as his coach instructed. The ball hung in the air. A single frame of basketball immortality. From gate 7, or from championship number 6. Jordan open. Chicago with the lead! Swish. 87-86. Bulls. Utah had one last look. Stockton's deep three, but it clanged off the rim. Chicago had done it. Again. Jordan had carried them one more time. 45 points, including his team's last 8. The Bulls coaches had been right all along. In the closing moments, there was only one player who could still create his own shot. In the three tight games, two in Salt Lake City, Jordan had outscored Malone in the fourth, averaging 13 points to Carl's three. Afterward, Jazz coach Jerry Sloan said what everyone already knew. He should be remembered as the greatest player who ever played the game. In six championship seasons, this was statistically Jordan's weakest year. 28.7 points, 5.8 rebounds, 3.5 assists, 1.7 steals, and 0.5 blocks per game. But none of that mattered. He'd claimed the regular season MVP, the All-Star MVP, the Finals MVP, 10th scoring title, and ended it all with a shot so iconic, it belongs in a museum. Jordan gave us what every legend dreams of, walking away on top with nothing left to prove. He left no doubt who the greatest basketball player of all time was. Jordan retired for the second time in his career. From a career standpoint, I've accomplished everything I could as an individual. And right now I don't have the mental challenges that I've had in the past to proceed as a basketball player. I'm pretty sure people say, well, it's a lot of different challenges that could evolve. For me, to start something and then in the middle of the season lose interest and lose my motivation, it's unfair to the people that I'm working with and working for, and to the fans. So I alleviated that opportunity by saying, this is the perfect time for me to walk away from the game, and I'm at peace with that. Was 1998 the most legendary season ever? Let me know in the comments. Don't forget to like, subscribe. And if you enjoyed this video, check out one of these ones on your screen now.