The world watched in anticipation as the 2013 NBA draft unfolded. Sixty names were called, sixty dreams fulfilled. But for Marcus Jordan, son of the greatest basketball player in history, there was only silence. The cameras caught his stoic expression as the final pick was announced—not a trace of his name. For some, it was proof that greatness doesn’t always pass down. For Marcus, it was an identity-shattering moment.
From the time he could walk, Marcus had been measured against his father’s towering legacy. At school, in the grocery store, on the court—he was always Michael Jordan’s son first, Marcus second. Even at home, the shadow lingered: six championship trophies gleaming in the hall, magazine covers, and a giant painting of his father soaring through the air. Basketball was everywhere, and so was the weight of expectation.
Marcus chased the dream with everything he had. He practiced until his arms ached, studied his father’s moves, and tried to live up to the legend. He was a star at Whitney Young High School, led his team to a state championship, and received offers from top colleges. But when it came time to choose, he surprised everyone by picking the University of Central Florida—a school far from the North Carolina blue that defined his father’s myth. “I need to make my own path,” he told his dad, who nodded in understanding, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of disappointment.
College ball was a different world. The players were faster, stronger, and the Jordan name didn’t earn him a starting spot. Marcus struggled at first, but he worked relentlessly, eventually becoming a key player and team leader. His game was different from his father’s—less about scoring, more about vision and teamwork. Still, the comparisons never stopped.
Then came the injuries. A sprained ankle, then a torn ligament. Surgery. Rehab. He fought his way back, but the NBA scouts were blunt: “Good IQ, but not enough athleticism. Maybe Europe or the G League.” Marcus tried not to let it crush him, but the doubt seeped in. Was he only ever destined to be a footnote in his father’s story?
He declared for the draft anyway, training harder than ever. The Bulls, Hornets, and Wizards invited him for workouts—mostly, he suspected, out of respect for his father. Draft night came. His family gathered, his father silent and unreadable. Pick after pick, his heart pounded. When the final name was called and it wasn’t his, Marcus felt the world tilt.
He walked outside into the Chicago night, leaving the house full of trophies and memories behind. Alone on the backyard court, he shot basket after basket until his arms gave out. His phone buzzed: “What’s next?” a friend texted. Marcus had no answer.
The weeks that followed were a blur of disappointment and isolation. He ignored calls from his father, his agent, even his brother. European teams called, but Marcus knew it was for the Jordan name, not his game. He felt lost, directionless, and for the first time, wondered who he was without basketball.
Then a letter arrived from his late grandmother, sent by her lawyer a year after her passing. Inside was a simple note: “You have gifts beyond the court, Marcus. Look for your open window.” With it was a key to a safe deposit box. Inside, he found a collection of letters and keepsakes—reminders of who he was beyond basketball.
A chance message from Ray Hughes, a former NBA player who’d also faced the abrupt end of a dream, nudged Marcus out of his shell. “Coffee?” Ray texted. “No pressure.” Marcus almost ignored it, but something in his grandmother’s words pushed him to go.
Ray was blunt about his own struggles after basketball—depression, drinking, losing his sense of self. “But I got lucky,” Ray said. “Someone saw more in me than my jump shot. Now I run a business helping athletes transition to life after sports.” He invited Marcus to help coach at a youth camp. “No pressure, just fun,” Ray promised.
At first, Marcus hesitated. But on the court with the kids, something shifted. They didn’t care about his last name or his draft status. They just wanted to learn. A shy girl missed shot after shot until Marcus gently corrected her form. When she finally made a basket, her face lit up with joy. “I did it!” she cheered. In that moment, Marcus felt a spark he hadn’t known in months.
Ray saw it too. “You’re a natural,” he said. “Not just with basketball. With people.” Ray introduced Marcus to his business—a startup helping athletes find new purpose. Marcus began to see a bigger picture: so many athletes struggled with identity after their careers ended, just like he had. What if there was a way to help them?
Marcus threw himself into research, talking to former athletes, learning about their struggles. He developed a plan: “Beyond the Game,” a program to help athletes transition to new careers, discover their strengths, and build a community. Ray and other mentors encouraged him to pitch the idea to investors. “Not because you’re Michael’s son,” Ray said, “but because you know what it’s like.”
Marcus’s father was skeptical at first. “Running a business is harder than basketball,” Michael warned. But when Marcus explained his vision, Michael saw the passion in his son’s eyes and agreed to invest—on one condition: “Don’t quit when it gets hard.”
The early days were tough. Funding was tight. Some doubted Marcus’s commitment. But he focused on the athletes. He listened to their stories, helped them find jobs, return to school, or start businesses. Word spread. More athletes came. Beyond the Game grew, attracting attention from colleges, pro teams, and even the NBA Players Association.
When a star player suffered a career-ending injury, Marcus reached out, offering support. The athlete’s public endorsement brought national attention. Suddenly, Beyond the Game was in the spotlight, and Marcus was recognized as a leader in athlete transitions—not just Michael Jordan’s son.
Five years later, Marcus stood in his Chicago office, photos of success stories lining the walls. Beyond the Game had helped thousands of athletes find new purpose. As he accepted an award for social entrepreneurship, he looked at his father in the audience and finally understood: True greatness isn’t about living up to someone else’s legacy. It’s about having the courage to create your own.
As the applause thundered, Marcus smiled, knowing he’d finally stepped out of the greatest shadow in sports—and into his own light.
Having Not Believed Jeffrey Jordan Was His Son, Michael Jordan Later Claimed He Would Stick His Tongue Out Like Him: “My Little Son Does It Now”
Credits: USA Today Sports and Instagram
Michael Jordan became a larger-than-life icon in the 1990s. During his decade of dominance in the NBA, Jordan was the model of perfection. There was a reason, the ad that he did said, “Be like Mike.” What people saw in Jordan immediately became a culture for youths, especially basketball fans. Even his habit of sticking his tongue out became a thing among basketball players. Sticking the tongue out became such a big deal that even his son Jeffrey picked up the habit from his father.
Interestingly, when Jordan had his firstborn, he didn’t believe that he was his son. Perhaps even worse was the fact that he got Juanita, his then-wife to have a paternity test. However, after the paternity test confirmed him as the father, he accepted Jeffrey as his son.
The real story behind Michael Jordan sticking his tongue out
Jordan was on The Arsenio Hall Show in 1990 and talked in detail about his life in the NBA and outside. When Hall asked him about the background story of sticking his tongue out. Jordan, although he seemed embarrassed, said that it was something that he picked up from his father as a kid. For the six-time NBA champion, it became so natural that whenever he tries not to do it, it felt unnatural. This is what Jordan said on the show.
“It’s unconscious habit and I picked up from my father. Being a little kid you watch your father work. He stick his tongue out. I took it up and made a habit of my own and now I can’t stop it. I have tried…it just doesn’t work.”
He also added that his father still sticks his tongue whenever he is working. That is not it, MJ also revealed that his son Jeffrey has picked up the same habit and tries to emulate him. “My little does it now…with his basketball,” said MJ.
Jeffrey Jordan tried his hand at basketball but failed
Jeffrey saw his father receiving media attention and enjoying fame. He followed in his father’s footsteps and started to be like him at a very young age. He not only picked up the habit of sticking his tongue out, but he also tried picking up basketball. But soon he realized that it was not his thing. This is what Jeffrey said at the Nike All-America Camp in 2005.
“I want to show that I belong here, I guess I’m not the top one or two or three or four players in my state, but I want to show that I can play here and that I’m not just a name.”
He got into the University of Illinois in 2007 with a major in Psychology and played basketball there. However, in 2009, he left basketball but came back the same year. He transferred to the University of Florida and played there with his younger brother. Jeffrey wanted to prove himself and he was under constant scrutiny from the media. In January 2012, Jordan left the UCF team for personal reasons.
