Michael Jordan Tracks Down the Scout Who Discovered Him—What He Does Next Will Melt Your Heart!

Success is a funny thing. It can make us forget the people who first saw something in us, long before the world knew our names. But not Michael Jordan. Even after six NBA championships, five MVP awards, and the title of the greatest basketball player of all time, there was still one person he needed to find. Someone whose name had faded over time, but whose words had never left him.

It was the autumn of 2024 in Charlotte, North Carolina. Michael Jordan sat in his office at the Spectrum Center, sunlight spilling across his desk, where a stack of old newspaper clippings lay scattered. He traced his fingers over yellowed pages from the Wilmington Morning Star, articles dating back to his high school days at Emsley A. Laney High. Despite all he’d achieved, there was still one piece of his story unfinished.

For months, Jordan had been searching for a scout—someone who’d visited Laney High in 1979. Not Pop Herring, the coach who famously cut him from varsity, but another man. Someone who’d pulled him aside after a junior varsity game and said, “Kid, you’ve got something special. Don’t let anyone tell you different.” Those words had echoed through every triumph and setback, but the face had faded. All Jordan remembered was a worn leather notebook and a kind smile. No name badge. No card. Just a brief moment that helped fuel a legacy.

Jordan’s team had combed through records, contacted former coaches, and dug into archives. Most leads went nowhere. Some said the scout was from Duke, others from NC State, but Jordan remembered the man’s UNC Tar Heels cap, already faded in 1979.

One morning, his assistant’s voice crackled through the intercom. “Mr. Jordan, I think we found something. There’s a retired scout living in Chapel Hill—Clifton Le. He worked for UNC from ’75 to ’89. His wife says he was assigned to the coastal region in ’79.”

Jordan’s heart raced. Could this be the man? He reached for his phone, then stopped. This wasn’t a call to make from behind a desk. Some things needed to be done face-to-face, just like that first meeting.

The drive to Chapel Hill felt longer than usual. Jordan’s mind wandered back to that night in the Laney High gym. He remembered the smell of floor wax, the squeak of sneakers. He’d just finished a JV game, scoring 24 points despite a sprained ankle. Most people had left, but one man stayed, taking notes. As Jordan pulled into the quiet neighborhood, memories flooded back. The man had approached him as he left the gym, his father James waiting by their old Ford.

“You played through pain today,” the scout had said. “That says more about you than any number on a score sheet.”

Jordan sat in his car, nerves fluttering. What if this wasn’t the right person? Or worse, what if the man had passed away, taking that moment of validation with him?

Before he could ring the bell, the front door opened. An elderly woman with kind eyes and silver hair stood there, amazed. “I told Cliff someone special was coming. He’s in his study, surrounded by his old notebooks. He’s been there since I told him you were looking for him.”

Jordan followed her through a house lined with basketball memorabilia. In the study, an elderly man sat in a leather chair, holding a worn notebook. Clifton Le looked up, and for a moment, the decades melted away. The hair was white, the face lined, but the eyes were the same—sharp and kind, able to see potential where others saw only raw talent.

“I wondered if you’d remember,” Le said, his voice thick with emotion. “All these years, I watched your career, celebrated every championship. But I never wanted to impose. Never wanted to be just another person claiming a piece of your story.”

Jordan moved closer, eyes fixed on the notebook in Le’s hands. “May I?” Le nodded, handing it over as if it were a precious artifact. Jordan flipped through the pages until he found it: February 12th, 1979. His own name jumped out, followed by words that brought him right back to that night:

“Jordan, Michael. JV game vs. New Hanover. 24 points. Played through injury. Special quality. Refuses to be defined by limitations. Note: Watch closely. Could be something extraordinary here.”

“You saw something that night,” Jordan whispered, “something even I wasn’t sure was there yet.”

Le smiled the same smile Jordan had remembered all these years. “What I saw wasn’t just basketball talent. I saw character. A young man who wasn’t going to let anyone else write his story. Even then, you had that fire in your eyes.”

Jordan sat down, the notebook open in his hands. “You know, I’ve been carrying your words with me for years. ‘Don’t let anyone tell you different.’ They meant everything when Pop cut me from varsity the next year.”

“I heard about that,” Le nodded. “Roy Williams told me you made the varsity team manager work extra hours putting up the roster because you checked it so many times, refusing to believe it.”

“I was angry,” Jordan admitted. “Hurt. Embarrassed. But then I remembered what you said about having something special, about not letting others define me. It was permission to believe in myself.”

The conversation flowed easily, two men connected by a moment that had meant everything to one, and had been simply doing his job for the other. Le shared stories about other players he’d scouted, dreams that had bloomed and withered, talents that soared and fell. But something about that night in Wilmington had made him write those extra notes, spend those extra minutes watching a JV player who hadn’t made varsity yet.

As the afternoon faded, Jordan finally asked, “Why didn’t you ever reach out? All these years—you must have known what those words meant to me.”

Le’s eyes grew distant. “Sometimes the greatest gift you can give someone is to plant a seed and then step back, let it grow. I didn’t want to be another voice in your ear, another person claiming credit. What you became—that was all you, Michael. I just happened to be the right person in the right place.”

Jordan closed the notebook gently. “No. You were more than that. You were the first person outside my family who made me believe I could be more than just another kid with a dream. That matters. That’s why I had to find you.”

The story could have ended there, with a handshake and a thank you. But Michael Jordan had come for more than closure. He wanted to do for Le what Le had done for him—recognize something special and make sure it wasn’t forgotten.

The next morning, Jordan returned to Le’s house, this time with a film crew and a team from the Charlotte Hornets. He explained his plan: to establish the Clifton Le Scouting Scholarship Program, training and supporting scouts who, like Le, looked beyond stats to see character. Each recipient would get a copy of Le’s scouting report on Jordan—a reminder that greatness can come from the most unexpected places.

Jordan unveiled a glass display case filled with Air Jordans from every era of his career, each pair worn in a significant game. At the center, he placed the original scouting report Le had written that February night in 1979. “Without this moment, who knows if any of these others would have happened,” Jordan said.

He wasn’t done. Jordan announced plans for a documentary series about Le’s life and the ripple effect of his belief in others. The NBA would establish the Clifton Le Excellence in Scouting Award, given annually to scouts who exemplified Le’s dedication.

A week later, at a packed ceremony in the Laney High gym, Jordan honored Le in front of former players, coaches, and scouts. He unveiled plans for the Clifton Le Center for Athletic Development, a training facility and museum dedicated to the art of scouting. The centerpiece: Le’s notebook, preserved for generations, a symbol of the power of seeing potential in others.

As the ceremony ended, Jordan turned to Le. “People ask me what makes a champion. Sometimes it’s just having the right person believe in you at the right moment. You were that person for me—and for so many others.”

Le, eyes shining, ran his hand over the inscription on a bronze statue:
“To those who see potential, who nurture dreams, who believe in possibilities—you change lives, one note at a time.”

As the sun set on Laney High, Le opened his notebook one last time, turned to a blank page, and wrote:
*“Sometimes the greatest gift we can give is to simply see another person—and let them know what we see. Because in the end, that’s what creates legacies that last far beyond any game.”*

And somewhere, in gyms and playgrounds across America, scouts opened their notebooks, coaches stayed late, and young athletes dreamed—knowing that someone, somewhere, believed in them.

Scott Burrell Explains How Michael Jordan Prepared Him For Life

“The Last Dance” documentary has tough us all a lot about Michael Jordan and the Chicago Bulls. It has also shown us the kind of impact they made on the community and on a lot of the players themselves.

Eight-year NBA veteran Scot Burrell recently detailed how Jordan helped change his own life, transcending the sport of basketball itself.

(via HoopsHype):

Let’s talk about that. Before “The Last Dance” came out, Michael Jordan told director Jason Hehir: “When people see the footage of [me riding Scott Burrell], they’re going to think that I’m a horrible guy.” He pushed you really hard that year. What was it like dealing with that?

SB: It was like getting taught; getting taught in a tough way. I didn’t think it was embarrassing, I didn’t think it was humiliating. I don’t have any regrets of how it went down or any second thoughts about learning from the best. I mean, I was getting tutelage from the best player to ever play, from the best team ever put together! And it was a team that won five out of seven championships before I got there, and I didn’t want to mess it up! So, I was glad to learn any way possible that was taught to me. 

Jordan has explained that he was trying to toughen you up and prepare you for a grueling postseason. Do you think his way of doing things made you tougher and more prepared?

SB: I think it prepared me for life, not just basketball. I had played with some very good teams in the past and with very good players, but it’s totally different when you play for a great player and great coaches, and you’re playing for the same goal – winning a championship. It’s totally different when that level is turned up another 100 degrees and you’re in the midst of it.

Jordan’s “tough love” relationship with his teammates is often seen as a negative thing. Many, it seems, don’t like the idea of being called out in an aggressive, hard-hitting way.

But for Burrell, it taught him valuable lessons about life. If some of Jordan’s fearless, relentless attitude rubbed off on him, it likely helped him tackle and overcome all different kinds of challenges.

Among other things, this doc is revealing some of the secrets behind Jordan’s success. While his skillet and talent for the game is unmatched, it’s really his work ethic and tireless attitude that sets him above the rest. It seems Mr. Burrell understands that better than anyone.