Retired Coach Who Once Trained Jordan Now Struggles to Eat—MJ’s Next Move Stuns Everyone
At 78 years old, Vernon “Coach Vern” Wilkins was no stranger to the cold. The thin walls of his apartment let the winter in, while his pension barely kept the lights on. Once an assistant coach for the Chicago Bulls during the team’s historic rise, Vern had helped shape legends—including a young, determined Michael Jordan. Back then, Vern’s voice had echoed through practice gyms, drilling Jordan on the fundamentals: “Elbow in. Follow through. Trust the arc.”
Now, that same voice trembled as he whispered to himself in an empty kitchen, stomach growling and only saltine crackers for dinner.
Photos on the walls told a different story: grainy shots of championship teams, faded newspaper clippings, and one particularly striking photo—Vern, arm slung around a young Jordan, both smiling after a long practice. That was 1984. Since then, Jordan had soared into greatness, becoming a global icon. Vern had taken a quieter path, coaching high school kids for decades, raising a daughter with his beloved late wife, and eventually retiring into obscurity.
But retirement hadn’t been kind. A stroke three years ago had robbed him of full mobility. Medical bills had drained his savings. His pride kept him from asking for help. Even from Tanya, his daughter in California. Even from Jordan, whose private number sat in Vern’s old address book like a lifeline he refused to touch.
Everything changed when a young sports reporter named Darius stumbled upon Vern’s story. After a brief interview and a few candid photos of Vern in his cold apartment, the story went viral: “The Man Who Helped Shape Jordan’s Shot Can’t Afford to Eat.” Former players, fans, and strangers donated thousands. A GoFundMe campaign soared past $100,000. And then, the unexpected happened.
Vern’s phone rang. The voice on the other end was unmistakable. “Coach… why didn’t you call me?” Michael Jordan’s voice was equal parts warmth and disappointment. “We need to talk. Face to face.”
Two days later, a black SUV pulled up outside Vern’s building. Inside the private jet that waited on the tarmac, Michael Jordan rose from his seat as Vern boarded. The years melted away in an instant.
“I owe you more than I can say,” Jordan told him. But he hadn’t just come to offer money—he came with a plan.
The Vernon Wilkins Basketball Academy.
A state-of-the-art youth center, funded by Jordan, with Vern as Executive Director. It would be a place for underprivileged kids to learn basketball—and life skills—from a coach who once trained the greatest. Vern, stunned, tried to refuse. But Jordan wasn’t having it. “This isn’t charity,” he said. “It’s long-overdue payment for the lessons you gave me—for believing in me before anyone else did.”
When the academy’s announcement made national headlines, reporters swarmed Vern’s neighborhood. Donations continued to flood in. Vern, overwhelmed but humbled, finally agreed to accept the help—not for himself, but for the kids who still needed a coach like him.
Then came a twist no one expected.
During a planning session for the academy, Vern collapsed from a heart attack. Thanks to his recent reconnected network of care, he survived—barely. In the hospital, Jordan never left his side. Vern recovered slowly, supported by his daughter Tanya, neighbors, and former players who rallied once more around the man who had changed so many of their lives.
Three weeks later, Vern returned to the community center gym—walking slowly, leaning on his cane, but standing tall. As the kids cheered and surrounded him, one asked, “Coach, you really taught Jordan?”
Vern smiled. “I taught him how to shoot. But more importantly, I reminded him to believe.”
From an empty fridge to a full heart, from poverty to purpose, Coach Vern’s journey reminded the world that some assists come long after the game ends. And for Michael Jordan, helping the man who once helped him? It might have been the greatest assist of all.
