Basketball legend Michael Jordan was helped by two black children when he had a flat tire, what happened next changed his thinking forever
Michael Jordan had lived a life of unparalleled success. A basketball legend, he had become synonymous with greatness, both on and off the court. The iconic number 23 jersey, the championships, the global brand—everything seemed to align perfectly. He had achieved what few others could ever dream of. But as the years passed, a quiet emptiness began to settle in. With age came reflection, and soon enough, Jordan found himself searching for meaning beyond the spotlight and the constant roar of the crowd.
One fateful day, during a quiet drive through a forgotten part of town, Michael’s world was turned upside down. It was a moment that would alter his perspective forever.
After decades of living in the fast lane, Michael had begun to notice the void. Despite all his fame, wealth, and accolades, he couldn’t shake the feeling of isolation. He was a household name, yet the people closest to him seemed distant. His family, though he provided them with everything they could want—luxurious homes, cars, endless vacations—were increasingly distant. They took his presence for granted. The holidays, once filled with joy and togetherness, were now strained with awkward silences, distant glances, and cold conversations.
One evening, feeling the weight of the world press down on him, Michael decided to take a drive. He didn’t know where he was headed, just away from the familiar. As he drove through unfamiliar streets, his mind raced with questions—questions about his legacy, his family, and what had been missing all along.
It wasn’t long before fate threw a wrench in his plans. As he drove down a quiet road on the outskirts of town, he felt the familiar jolt of a flat tire. His luxury SUV skidded slightly to the side before coming to a stop. He stared out the window, sighing in frustration. He could fix it himself, but in that moment, his mind wasn’t in the right place to even think clearly. He checked his phone instinctively, but the screen remained dark, dead.
“Of course,” Michael muttered under his breath, staring out into the emptiness of the road.
As he sat there, contemplating how he ended up in this isolated moment of frustration, he noticed movement in the corner of his eye. Two young boys were walking down the road, their silhouettes lit by the dim glow of a streetlamp. They were laughing, their voices full of life and energy, completely unburdened by the world.
For a brief moment, Michael’s instincts flared—this wasn’t the part of town he belonged to. He wasn’t used to people in this neighborhood paying him any attention, and he wasn’t sure how to respond. But as they drew nearer, something in their demeanor caught his attention. They weren’t trying to sell him anything or ask for money. They were simply walking by, enjoying the evening, like so many others.
One of the boys, the taller of the two, noticed Michael sitting in his car and called out, “Hey, mister! You okay?”
Michael, taken aback by the unexpected question, hesitated. For the first time in a long time, someone had asked him something that wasn’t related to his fame or his money. He opened the door and stepped out. “Yeah, I’ve got a flat tire. I don’t know how to fix it.”
The boys exchanged a quick glance, and without a moment’s hesitation, they walked toward the car.
“Don’t worry about it,” the shorter one said. “We can help.”
Michael, surprised by their readiness to help without asking for anything, watched as the boys moved with ease, retrieving the tools from the trunk and getting to work. They seemed completely comfortable in the task, their movements fluid and practiced.
“You guys know how to do this?” Michael asked, genuinely curious.
The taller boy grinned as he tightened the bolts. “Yeah, we learned from Old Man Hector. He runs a little shop down the street. He lets us hang around and teaches us stuff. It’s always good to know how to fix things.”
Michael was stunned. The boys, dressed in worn-out clothes with scuffed shoes, had learned to change a tire in a way that many adults, especially those of his social circle, would never have bothered to learn. As they worked, laughing and joking with each other, Michael couldn’t help but notice how genuinely happy they were. There was no hurry, no rush. Just pure joy in the moment.
“What’s a guy like you doing out here anyway?” the taller boy asked, lifting the car with the jack.
Michael hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to explain his feelings. How could he put into words that he had spent his entire life chasing fame and fortune only to realize that, at the end of it all, he had nothing that truly mattered? “I just needed to get away,” he said simply, not sure that his explanation was enough, but it was all he could offer.
The boys nodded, as if understanding something he hadn’t even voiced. They finished the tire change in less than half an hour. Michael was dumbfounded. He had the resources to hire the best mechanics in the world, but in this small town, with two boys who had nothing, they had done something far more meaningful. They had given him something that money could never buy—genuine human connection.
Before he could offer them anything for their trouble, the boys refused. “Nah, we’re good,” the shorter one said with a shrug. “We were just helping.”
Michael tried to push a few hundred-dollar bills into their hands, but the boys laughed and waved him off. They had no interest in his money. Instead, they simply asked if he would join them at a diner down the street.
Still processing the experience, Michael followed them to a small diner, its neon sign flickering in the night. The place seemed stuck in time, but there was a warmth to it that Michael couldn’t quite describe. The air was filled with the smell of fresh food, the soft hum of conversation, and an old jukebox playing in the corner. The boys led him inside, where an older woman behind the counter greeted them like family.
“You two again?” she said with a smile. “You sure know how to get people to visit.”
Michael felt out of place, his tailored jacket and polished shoes stark against the worn-down booths and the checkered floor. But as he took a seat, he realized something. For the first time in a long while, he felt… human. There were no expectations, no judgments. Just people, living their lives.
The woman, Helen, brought over plates of food—simple, but hearty and comforting. Pancakes, eggs, crispy bacon. It wasn’t fine dining, but to Michael, it was the most satisfying meal he had ever had. He could feel the difference as he ate, savoring every bite. There was something real here, something he had been missing for so long.
Helen looked at him, a knowing smile on her face. “You from around here?”
Michael hesitated. He could have told her who he was—the famous athlete, the millionaire—but instead, he simply said, “Just passing through.”
Helen seemed to understand. “Lucky for you, you ran into these two,” she said, gesturing to the boys.
As they finished their meal, Michael felt something shift inside him. He had come here looking for an escape, but what he found was something deeper. He had seen more wealth in the kindness of two young boys than he had ever seen in his bank account. The genuine joy they shared, the willingness to help, and the absence of any expectation in return—this was the kind of wealth that money could never buy.
The evening had left Michael with more questions than answers. He wasn’t sure what had happened, but for the first time, he felt as though he had glimpsed the true meaning of life. He had spent so many years focused on the things that didn’t matter. But tonight, in that small diner, surrounded by people who had nothing but their humanity, he realized that what truly mattered wasn’t the empire he had built. It was the connections he had missed along the way.
As he drove back to his mansion, the familiar sights of luxury and power seemed hollow. For the first time in years, Michael Jordan felt poor—not in wealth, but in the way he had lived his life. He had been chasing the wrong things.
And in that moment, he made a decision. He wasn’t going to waste what little time he had left. It was time to make a different kind of legacy—one built on the kind of wealth that money could never touch.
Never-Before-Seen Photographs of Michael Jordan Capture the Rise of the Basketball Legend
Photographer David Banks shares images of “His Airness” from his personal archive
The two greatest MJ’s: Magic Johnson and Michael Jordan squaring off in 1988. This was just before Phil Jackson became coach and you can see Doug Collins in the background. The intensity of them staring at each other really captures the intensity of the moment. Magic’s attempt to guard Jordan and Jordan’s defiance really captured a moment in time when Jordan was becoming the stuff of legend.
When you think of Michael Jordan, every image seems to evoke moments of greatness. From his intensity on the court to his evolution into a global brand and pop culture icon, the storied visuals of “His Airness” are by now ingrained in our collective memory. That’s why when veteran Chicago sports photographer David Banks finally had the time to look through his archives and organize his photo negatives amid the coronavirus stay-at-home lockdown, he was surprised to find rare images of his that had sat undeveloped for years.
Banks, a diehard sports fan who was born and bred in the Windy City, was just beginning his career shooting for various photo agencies when Jordan arrived in Chicago at the start of his rookie 1984-1985 season. After being chosen third overall by the Chicago Bulls in the 1984 NBA Draft (behind Hakeem Olajuwon, who went to the Houston Rockets, and Sam Bowie, who joined the Portland Trail Blazers), Jordan made his Bulls debut against the Washington Bullets on October 26th, 1984. From that moment forward, Banks focused his lens on Jordan.
“I thought to myself, this is really going to change things for Chicago,” says Banks, who was documenting the Bulls’ rise to dominance, alongside veteran sports photographers like Scott Strazzante and Nuccio Dinuzzo.
“You knew MJ was really special. To see him actually play, it was mind bending. I knew not to take my camera off of him,” he explains. “If you decided to go somewhere else with your camera, it was always a bad decision. I said to myself, ‘Hey stupid, focus on Jordan. Nothing else matters.’”
Banks chronicled the Bulls during a critical moment in the game’s history, capturing the tumult and energy of the game; Jordan in all his anti-gravity intensity; and the community that made Chicago synonymous with Jordan. Strapped with two analogue cameras — a Nikon FM2 and the first autofocus Canon — Banks shot these images on film in an era before digital technology changed the way sports would eventually be photographed.
“The passage of time is often what makes a photograph powerful,” Banks says. “Jordan’s intensity and brilliance made me step up my game. I understood that I wasn’t just dealing with any player. I knew that he was everything. Still, the Bulls weren’t exactly the best team at the time of Jordan’s arrival; it was relatively easy to get access if you were a photographer. If you asked to shoot a Bulls game, it was like, ‘What time do you wanna get? Where do you wanna sit?’ So the early years of shooting Jordan, it was just a few of us. Jordan turned that franchise around. He was remarkable. But nobody knew the degree to which it would change things.”
After fears of infection from Covid-19 shut down the NBA season, basketball finally returned. In our current moment, sports nostalgia seems more intense than ever. Basketball fans are still nerding out on the heels of ESPN’s The Last Dance, making Banks’ newly discovered photographs more significant than ever. These portraits resonate not just for their nostalgic nod to greatness but also capture the mood of Jordan’s role in American popular culture. In this exclusive gallery, Banks shares his unseen Jordan images that call to mind moments of greatness. They feel cinematic and unforgettable due to his legendary feats of basketball flight. Essentially, Jordan doing Jordan things.
