On a frigid Chicago morning, before the city had awakened, Marcus Bailey sat shivering against the cold brick of the United Center. His threadbare Chicago Bulls jacket—once bright red, now faded with years—was all he had to ward off the biting wind. Marcus had been there since midnight, hoping to be first in line for a chance at standby tickets to see his beloved Bulls play. For him, basketball was more than a game; it was a cherished connection to his late grandmother, Sarah Morgan, who had raised him on Chicago’s South Side. Six months earlier, she had passed away, leaving Marcus with her lessons of perseverance and dignity, but also a loneliness that stung on nights like this.
The temperature hovered near freezing, and Marcus’s hands were numb. He had lost his job at the local grocery store two weeks before, and he knew that if he managed to buy a ticket, it would mean skipping a few meals. But he didn’t care. This game was a promise to his grandmother—she had always dreamed of seeing the Bulls live, and Marcus wanted to honor her memory.
As dawn crept across the sky, a few more hopeful fans gathered behind Marcus. One, a middle-aged man named Christopher Watson, offered him a sip from his coffee thermos. “You must really love basketball,” Christopher said, noticing Marcus’s shivering form.
“My grandmother and I never missed a game on TV. This would’ve been her first time seeing them live,” Marcus replied, his voice catching as he remembered her.
Inside the United Center, Michael Jordan had arrived early for his pregame routine. Lately, he’d been reflecting on his legacy—wondering if he was truly making a difference beyond the court. When his security team mentioned a young man waiting outside since midnight, something tugged at him. Maybe it was the memory of his own father, or maybe it was just fate, but Jordan decided to investigate.
As the sun rose, exhaustion overtook Marcus. He drifted off to sleep, the coffee cup slipping from his hand and spilling onto the concrete. That’s when Michael Jordan, dressed in casual workout clothes, quietly approached. The other fans fell silent, stunned by the presence of the legend.
Jordan asked Christopher how long Marcus had been there. “Since midnight, sir,” Christopher replied. “He was talking about his grandmother. She passed away recently.”
Something shifted in Jordan’s expression. He knelt beside Marcus and gently tapped his shoulder. Marcus startled awake, his eyes widening in disbelief as he recognized the man in front of him.
“I hear you’ve been waiting a while,” Jordan said, his voice warm. “Your grandmother—she was a fan?”
Marcus nodded, struggling to find words. “She believed in impossible things.”
Jordan smiled, his eyes softening. “Smart woman. Listen, I’ve got something for you. But first, you look like you could use some breakfast. What do you say we talk about your grandmother inside?”
To the amazement of everyone in line, Michael Jordan escorted Marcus through the player’s entrance. In the arena’s private dining area, Marcus shared stories about his grandmother—how she had worked two jobs to raise him, how she used basketball to teach him about life, perseverance, and hope. He told Jordan about her final days and the promise he made to never stop believing in impossible things.
“Your grandmother was right,” Jordan said, pulling an envelope from his jacket. “That’s why I want you to have these.” Inside were tickets to that night’s game—and season passes for the entire year.
But Jordan wasn’t finished. “I made some calls,” he continued. “There’s a position opening up in our community outreach program. It’s entry-level, but it’s a start. Sometimes all people need is a chance to prove themselves.”
Marcus was overwhelmed, tears streaming down his face. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’ll make your grandmother proud,” Jordan replied. “And maybe someday, when you see someone else out in the cold chasing their own impossible dream, you’ll remember this morning.”
The story could have ended there, a private act of kindness between a star and a struggling fan. But Christopher Watson, the man who’d shared his coffee, happened to be a local journalist. With Jordan’s blessing, he wrote about the encounter—not to highlight celebrity generosity, but to showcase the chain of kindness that began with a shared cup of coffee.
The story went viral. Other NBA teams launched similar outreach programs. Local businesses created job training opportunities for young people like Marcus. Rachel Martinez, a coffee shop owner who had known Marcus’s grandmother, started the Morgan Initiative, offering jobs to youth facing tough circumstances.
Marcus embraced his new role at the Bulls’ Community Outreach Program, organizing midnight basketball tournaments where participants could meet job counselors and mentors. Michael Jordan attended regularly, not as a celebrity, but as a mentor and friend. The impact was immediate—youth crime dropped, school attendance improved, and hope spread through neighborhoods that had long felt forgotten.
One night, a single mother named Jennifer brought her son Thomas to a tournament. Thomas, struggling in school, played on Marcus’s team. During breaks, Marcus shared his story, inspiring Thomas to believe in his own impossible dreams. Jordan noticed and offered Thomas a scholarship through a new program—the Impossible Dreams Initiative, which provided not just financial aid, but mentorship and career guidance.
The ripple effect was undeniable. The Morgan model was studied by sociologists and adopted by cities nationwide. Marcus started a weekly storytelling session where young people could share their struggles and triumphs. Michael Jordan often attended, reminding everyone that the most important victories happen far from the court.
A year after that cold morning, the United Center hosted a community celebration. Jordan announced the creation of the Sarah Morgan Foundation, a multi-million dollar initiative to expand the outreach program nationwide, preserving Sarah’s philosophy of hope and perseverance.
As the evening ended, Marcus stood at center court, surrounded by a sea of phone lights—a new tradition called the “midnight moment.” He shared his grandmother’s favorite saying: “Impossible things happen every day.”
Jordan put a hand on Marcus’s shoulder. “Your grandmother was right. But she forgot one thing—impossible things happen every day because people like her make them happen.”
The story of Marcus Bailey and Michael Jordan became more than a moment of kindness. It became a movement, proving that the greatest victories are those that lift others up—and that, with hope and compassion, impossible dreams can become reality.
Unbelieva-Bull: ‘The Last Dance’ brings the Jordan era to life for fans
For millions around the world, Michael Jordan was a sporting and cultural icon the likes of which very few of us had ever seen.
But for those of us who lived in Chicago as he was winning six NBA titles in 14 years with the Bulls, Michael was simply – ours.
The so-called Second City was second to none in the Jordan era beginning in 1984 and ending in 1998.
Bulls fans were treated to such an incredible ride that a 10-hour documentary was created about it.
“The Last Dance,” which aired its final episode on ESPN Sunday evening in the US and is now streaming internationally on Netflix, featured extraordinary access to the sixth championship run in 1997-98 and candid interviews with Jordan and other key member of those title teams.
The world saw the ups and downs and the behind-the-scenes drama play out, and many of us who were fans of the team remember where we were and how we felt when these moments happened.
That’s why my CNN producing partner Sam Krumov and I (John Lynch) wanted to recap the documentary by taking you on our journey through the Jordan years as long-time Bulls fans.
For millions around the world, Michael Jordan was a sporting and cultural icon the likes of which very few of us had ever seen.
But for those of us who lived in Chicago as he was winning six NBA titles in 14 years with the Bulls, Michael was simply – ours.
The so-called Second City was second to none in the Jordan era beginning in 1984 and ending in 1998.
Bulls fans were treated to such an incredible ride that a 10-hour documentary was created about it.
“The Last Dance,” which aired its final episode on ESPN Sunday evening in the US and is now streaming internationally on Netflix, featured extraordinary access to the sixth championship run in 1997-98 and candid interviews with Jordan and other key member of those title teams.
The world saw the ups and downs and the behind-the-scenes drama play out, and many of us who were fans of the team remember where we were and how we felt when these moments happened.
That’s why my CNN producing partner Sam Krumov and I (John Lynch) wanted to recap the documentary by taking you on our journey through the Jordan years as long-time Bulls fans.
I didn’t think it could get better than that until a day before Game 4 of the Eastern Conference Finals.
Someone my dad knew from his work offered him tickets!
OMG! This is WAY better than a regular season game! This is playoffs!
The Bulls were coming off the euphoria of Jordan’s iconic buzzer-beating shot that eliminated the Cleveland Cavaliers and were in the conference finals for the first time in 14 years.
They faced the Detroit Pistons, who had beaten us in the playoffs the year before.
The Bulls led two games to one heading into that May 29 game.
I walked into the Stadium thinking “This is it! We’re going to beat the Pistons today and then win one more and we’re off to the NBA Finals!”
I left bitterly disappointed. Detroit won 86-80.
Jordan was held to 23 points (which seems like a lot but wasn’t really for him) and I felt like even though the best-of-seven series was tied at two, it was already over. I was right.
Detroit won in six.
They beat us again in the 1990 Eastern Conference Finals, this time in seven games.
I was tired of losing to them.
They’d physically roughed us up every chance they got.
They were the so-called ‘Bad Boys’ of the league (and bullies to us) and they knew it.
The teams met up again in 1991, but this time the Bulls weren’t going to get pushed around.
They stood their ground and won!
It was a four-game sweep that seemed remarkably easy but at the same time as satisfying a triumph as any I had witnessed as a fan of any team.
The team we disliked the most was finally in our rear-view mirror (though I’m still as mad as Jordan that Detroit’s big stars didn’t bother to shake our hands as they left the floor).
I thought now the Finals would be a breeze, and for the most part I was right.
They dispatched Magic Johnson and his LA Lakers in five games.
I remember crying in my living room along with Michael when he finally hugged that championship trophy in the locker room. He’d hug a few more in the years to come.
“The Last Dance” has brought Michael Jordan’s exploits in the NBA to a new auidence.
