Michael Jordan’s Unexpected Reunion
Michael Jordan was no stranger to adoring fans. Almost everywhere he went—whether on a basketball court or in a business meeting—he was met with cheers, requests for autographs, and cameras flashing to capture his every move. After decades of global stardom, he had grown used to the constant attention. But one afternoon in Chicago, amidst a throng of people on a busy street, he experienced a moment that left him breathless—one that had nothing to do with a championship ring or a sneaker deal.
He saw a man sitting on the sidewalk, clothes tattered, staring off into space. The man wasn’t panhandling or calling out to pedestrians. He was simply there, as if waiting for something—or perhaps nothing at all. Jordan caught sight of the man’s face as he walked by and felt a jolt of recognition. At first, he couldn’t place him; decades had passed, and time had carved lines into the man’s features. Still, something about that face tugged at Jordan’s memory.
He stopped walking, letting the people behind him shuffle around in confusion. Heart pounding, he took a hesitant step closer. The man’s head was bowed, so Jordan knelt down and spoke softly: “Eric?”
It took a few moments for the name to register. Slowly, the man looked up, sunken eyes meeting Jordan’s. His entire posture stiffened. Then he murmured in disbelief, “Mike?”
In a single instant, all the years disappeared. This wasn’t simply a homeless man in a Chicago street—this was Eric Dawson, Michael Jordan’s best friend from childhood, the boy with whom he’d shared hours of driveway basketball games in Wilmington, North Carolina.
Jordan felt his throat tighten. “Eric…oh, man, Eric, what happened?”
Eric didn’t answer immediately. His expression wavered between shock and an overwhelming flood of memories. Then, tears pooled in his eyes. “I…I thought I’d never see you again.”
Growing up in Wilmington, Jordan and Eric had been inseparable. They weren’t just teammates on informal neighborhood squads; they were confidants who believed wholeheartedly in each other’s dreams. They’d pledged to one another, If one of us makes it, we help the other.
But life had taken them on different trajectories. Jordan’s gift for basketball became legendary. He rose through high school and college, ultimately dominating the NBA. Eric’s path was less straightforward. At first, Jordan simply lost touch, then heard vague rumors that Eric had moved out of state, taking care of family troubles. Each time Jordan swung by Wilmington, he tried to ask around, but nobody seemed to know where Eric had gone.
Now, kneeling before him, Jordan could see the heartbreak etched in Eric’s posture: the stooped shoulders, the trembling hands, the hollowed-out cheeks that hinted at chronic hunger or illness. Eric looked like he’d been through a thousand battles.
Jordan placed a hand on Eric’s shoulder. “Brother, tell me…how did it get this bad?”
Eric’s voice was coarse, as if he rarely used it. He explained how his mother fell ill when he was barely out of high school, how he’d left everything—sports, college aspirations—to care for her. With bills mounting, he took on whatever jobs he could: janitorial work, construction, odd tasks that paid little more than scraps. His mother’s condition worsened, and eventually she passed away. Debt swallowed him. Without a stable home, he drifted, living in shelters or on the streets, feeling he had nowhere left to turn.
“I watched your games,” Eric said quietly, eyes flicking up to meet Jordan’s. “I was proud. I’d catch you on TV in a store window or see newspaper headlines about you. I was always cheering—knowing a part of me was out there on that court with you.”
Jordan swallowed hard. All these years, the friend who used to rebound his jump shots had been overshadowed by misfortune.
“You should’ve called,” Jordan whispered.
Eric gave a small shrug. “Didn’t want to be a burden. Didn’t want to disrupt what you’d built. You were living our dream. I figured that had to be enough, at least for one of us.”
Jordan’s gaze grew fierce. He’d always prided himself on competitiveness and loyalty, but this revelation cut deeper than any championship loss. He remembered the vow they’d made as kids: If one of us makes it, we help the other.
“We made a promise,” Jordan said, voice thick with emotion. “That promise still stands.”
Eric tried to protest. His entire adult life had been survival—scraping by, relying on his wits. Accepting help on this scale felt like stepping into another universe. “Mike, it’s fine. I don’t want to slow you down. You’ve got everything going. Don’t worry about me.”
But Jordan’s expression was resolute. He’d let business and fame distract him, and in doing so, he had failed to keep track of Eric. No more.
He stood up and pulled out his phone, making a quick call. “John,” he said, voice commanding, “I need you to bring the SUV around. I have someone who needs our help immediately.”
Within minutes, a sleek black SUV pulled up to the curb. Some passersby recognized Jordan and began to crowd, taking pictures, but the star ignored them. He helped Eric to his feet, ushered him inside, and shut the door. As the vehicle eased away from the sidewalk, Jordan barely glanced at the people snapping photos. His mind was already racing, formulating a plan to get Eric off the streets permanently.
The next few days were a whirlwind for Eric. One moment, he was living hand-to-mouth; the next, he was escorted into a luxurious hotel suite, handed fresh clothes, and introduced to a small circle of Jordan’s trusted staff. They scheduled doctors’ visits, arranged therapy sessions, and made sure Eric had nutritious meals.
Late one evening, Eric sat on the suite’s plush couch, eyes flicking over the Chicago skyline. It hardly felt real. Jordan, leaning against the wall by the window, gave him an encouraging grin.
Eric exhaled. “What happens when this all cools down, Mike? When the headlines move on to something else?”
Jordan walked over and clapped a hand on Eric’s shoulder. “This isn’t about headlines. This is about you. I don’t do half-measures, and I don’t run from promises. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do, my friend.”
Jordan wasn’t content with merely paying Eric’s bills. He saw Eric’s struggles as symptomatic of a larger issue—how easily good people can fall through society’s cracks. So, behind closed doors, he convened with his financial advisers to propose the “Eric Dawson Foundation.”
“We help those who never got their break,” Jordan said to the roomful of professionals. “We give them housing, job training, and a shot at life. Real second chances.”
One adviser looked skeptical. “Michael, this is a huge commitment—millions, potentially. And a long-term plan.”
Jordan nodded firmly. “I understand. Let’s do it.”
The news leaked a week later: Michael Jordan, known for philanthropic efforts, was establishing a multi-million-dollar foundation aimed at providing second chances for the homeless and those facing severe economic hardship. Journalists clamored for details, and rumors swirled about the mysterious “Eric Dawson” whose name was on the foundation.
Soon enough, Eric found himself standing in front of a mirror, adjusting the lapels of a brand-new suit. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d worn one. Jordan invited him to a press conference announcing the foundation, and as he fiddled with the tie, Eric’s hands trembled.
Jordan popped his head into the dressing area, smiling. “Ready?”
Eric grimaced. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready for cameras and reporters, man.”
Jordan laughed softly. “Remember how we’d pretend to be interviewed after our driveway games? ‘Mr. Jordan, how’d you make the game-winning shot? Eric, how’d you lock down on defense?’ We’ve been rehearsing since we were ten.”
That brought a grin to Eric’s face. It felt good to recall simpler times.
The conference hall was packed. Dozens of reporters, photographers, and even fans of Jordan gathered. Everyone wanted to see Michael Jordan’s next big move. When the legend stepped onto the small stage, hush fell over the room. He stood at the podium and looked directly into the cameras.
“Thank you all for coming,” he began. “I’ve had an extraordinary life—six championships, countless honors—but none of it happened without the support of people who believed in me before the world did.”
He gestured offstage, and Eric emerged, cheeks flushing under the bright lights. A murmur swept through the audience.
“This is my friend, Eric Dawson,” Jordan continued. “We grew up together in Wilmington, dreaming about the NBA, about success. But life doesn’t always go the way you expect. While I was out there winning titles, Eric was fighting a battle few knew about.”
Cameras flashed incessantly as Jordan recounted their childhood promise. He explained how he’d discovered Eric homeless on a Chicago street—how that discovery sparked an idea much larger than a one-time rescue.
“I’m launching the Eric Dawson Foundation,” Jordan announced. “Its mission is to help people who’ve slipped through the cracks—people who, like Eric, never had that second chance. Housing, job training, mentorship—whatever it takes to lift them up.”
The audience erupted in applause. Eric stepped closer to the microphone, voice trembling. He admitted he’d been living in shame and obscurity for years, convinced that everyone had forgotten him.
“I thought my story was over,” Eric said, glancing at Jordan. “But Mike reminded me it’s never over until you decide it is. Now, we’re in this together—like we said we would be.”
In the weeks that followed, the media fixated on Jordan’s philanthropic effort. Skeptics wondered if it was merely a public-relations gesture, but then the foundation began posting real results: transitional housing opened, partnerships formed with local organizations, and job placement programs launched. Eric Dawson became an integral part of the team, not just a symbolic figurehead. He met with prospective participants, shared his own experiences, and showed them that hope was tangible.
One sunny afternoon, Jordan and Eric found themselves on a newly renovated basketball court in a community center funded by the foundation. A group of kids ran drills. The air buzzed with laughter and the thud of basketballs. Jordan watched Eric demonstrate some basic moves with the kids, guiding them on footwork.
Leaning against the fence, Jordan smiled. It felt almost like their childhood all over again—two friends on a court, united by the game they loved. Only now, they were older, wiser, and determined to ensure that nobody else fell through the cracks in the same way Eric had.
Eric jogged over, sweat trickling down his forehead. He grinned at Jordan. “Still remember those tips we used to share, huh?”
Jordan chuckled, tapping a ball with his fingertips. “You got the height. I got the drive. Together, we made magic.”
Eric’s smile softened. “Thanks for not giving up on me, Mike.”
Jordan shook his head. “We made a promise, man. And we’re just getting started.”
The two men stepped onto the court where half a dozen kids were waiting, eyes bright with excitement. No cameras flashed now, no reporters hovered. This was the quiet, genuine side of their mission—helping people, especially kids, believe in something bigger than their circumstances.
They exchanged a glance. For Michael Jordan, an icon whose name was etched in basketball history, this might be his most meaningful legacy: honoring a decades-old commitment to a childhood friend, and in the process, creating a lifeline for countless others who desperately needed a second chance.
Basketball legend Michael Jordan makes largest individual donation in Make-A-Wish history
PHOENIX, Feb. 15, 2023 /PRNewswire/ — Basketball legend Michael Jordan proves that it is better to give than to receive by making a record-setting donation of $10 million to Make-A-Wish America in honor of his 60th birthday on Feb. 17. The gift – the largest from an individual in the organization’s 43-year history – is Jordan’s latest show of commitment to the wish-granting organization that he has actively supported for more than 30 years. The hope is that Jordan’s decision to celebrate his birthday by donating to Make-A-Wish will inspire others to help Make-A-Wish close the gap in the number of wish kids who are waiting for their wishes to come true.
Katie had the chance to meet Michael Jordan for her wish in 2000. The experience was so impactful that she joined Make-A-Wish as a full-time staff member for nearly 5 years.
Make-A-Wish kid Donovan had his wish to meet Michael Jordan granted in 2009.
Jordan’s support for Make-A-Wish dates back to the first wish he granted in 1989. In the years since, he has granted hundreds of wishes to children all over the world, becoming one of the all-time most requested celebrity wish granters. He remains one of the organizations most popular wish requests. In 2008, he was named Make-A-Wish Chief Wish Ambassador for the life-changing impact he has had on wish kids and their families.
“For the past 34 years, it’s been an honor to partner with Make-A-Wish and help bring a smile and happiness to so many kids,” said Michael Jordan. “Witnessing their strength and resilience during such a tough time in their lives has truly been an inspiration. I can’t think of a better birthday gift than seeing others join me in supporting Make-A-Wish so that every child can experience the magic of having their wish come true.”
“Everyone knows about Michael’s legacy on the basketball court, but it’s what he has consistently done off the court when no one’s watching that makes him a true legend for wish families and the wider Make-A-Wish community,” said Leslie Motter, president and CEO of Make-A-Wish America. “Michael using his birthday as a chance to make history for Make-A-Wish speaks to the quality of his character and his loyal dedication to making life better for children with critical illnesses. We hope that the public will be inspired to follow in his footsteps by helping make wishes come true.”
Jordan’s donation will create an endowment to provide the funds needs to make future wishes possible for kids with critical illnesses. His support comes on the heels of a recent 2022 Wish Impact Study that indicates that wishes can play an important part in the healing process. Wish alumni and medical professionals who participated in the study agree that wishes can increase joy, confidence, self-esteem and hope for the future, resulting in improved quality of life and better health outcomes.
To learn more about Make-A-Wish and to get involved, visit wish.org.
About Make-A-Wish
Make-A-Wish creates life-changing wishes for children with critical illnesses. Founded in Phoenix, Arizona, Make-A-Wish is the #1 most trusted nonprofit operating locally in all 50 states throughout the U.S. Together with generous donors, supporters, staff and more than 24,000 volunteers across the country, Make-A-Wish delivers hope and joy to children and their families when they need it most. Make-A-Wish aims to bring the power of wishing to every child with a critical illness because wish experiences can help improve emotional and physical health. Since 1980, Make-A-Wish has granted more than 550,000 wishes in 50 countries worldwide; more than 360,000 wishes in the U.S. and its territories alone. For more information about Make-A-Wish America, visit wish.org.
