Tyson Rivera, a young reporter for the Chicago Tribune, had never expected to be thrust into the whirlwind of Chicago basketball history. He had grown up in the South Side, watching Michael Jordan lead the Bulls through their legendary 1990s dynasty, idolizing the man who had defined his childhood. But as the years went by, the mystique of Jordan’s competitive drive began to give way to troubling stories. Teammates described a merciless leader who pushed them to their breaking points, sometimes in ways that bordered on cruelty. Jordan’s approach was the stuff of legend, but what was it really like behind the scenes?
Tyson had always wondered, and now, fate had granted him the opportunity to ask. An unexpected email had landed in his inbox, inviting him to cover Jordan’s exclusive charity gala at the United Center. It was a prestigious event, marking the 25th anniversary of the Bulls’ first championship, and Tyson had been hand-picked for the job. His mentor, Gloria Washington, had specifically recommended him, recognizing his thoroughness as a reporter and his unique perspective on the city’s basketball culture. But there was a catch—this was more than just a fluff piece. Tyson had one chance to get it right.
As the gala unfolded, Tyson found himself at a crossroads. The event was filled with former players, coaches, and staff, each of them a witness to the magic of Jordan’s career. Yet Tyson couldn’t shake the weight of the question he had to ask—the one about Jordan’s famous “90s attitude.”
He had spent days preparing, reviewing old interviews, watching highlights, and even speaking to former players who had been part of Jordan’s inner circle. His angle was clear: he needed to ask what no one else dared to. What made Michael Jordan, the revered champion, push his teammates so hard? Did he regret the way he treated them?
As the night wore on, Tyson grew nervous. He knew this wasn’t just another event where he could ask soft questions about championships and iconic moments. This was his chance to get to the heart of the man who had defined an era.
Finally, the time came for the press session. Tyson stood among a handful of reporters as Jordan entered the room. The man who had been a towering figure on the court was now dressed in a tuxedo, exuding the same presence that had once commanded the attention of an entire basketball world. He was, as always, the center of attention. But Tyson, despite the nerves and the flashing cameras, knew what he had to do. He had to ask the question.
The other reporters began with predictable questions, asking Jordan about his favorite championship or his thoughts on today’s game. But Tyson, after a deep breath, seized the moment.
“Michael,” he said, his voice steady, “during your playing days, you were known for your intense competitiveness, your relentless drive. Some say you were extremely hard on your teammates. Looking back, how do you feel about that approach? Do you regret it?”
The room fell silent. The air seemed to freeze as everyone waited for Jordan’s response. Tyson’s heart raced. It was a question no one had dared to ask in such a public setting, but Tyson wasn’t about to back down.
Jordan’s gaze hardened for a moment, and Tyson braced for a curt, defensive response. But what came next was unexpected.
“That’s a fair question,” Jordan said after a long pause. He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he seemed to consider Tyson’s words. “My approach wouldn’t work in every situation, maybe it wouldn’t even work today. But when I was playing, we were trying to do something that hadn’t been done before. Not just winning, but changing what people thought was possible.”
The room was still, hanging on his every word. Tyson scribbled notes furiously, trying to capture the weight of Jordan’s answer.
Jordan continued, his voice taking on a reflective tone. “I was hard on myself first. I didn’t ask anyone to do something I wasn’t already doing myself. We were a family, and sometimes, families are tough on each other. But I never expected anything from anyone I wasn’t giving myself.”
Tyson could see the change in the room. The tension that had been present at the start was dissipating. Jordan’s response wasn’t an excuse. It was an acknowledgment of the complexity of his leadership—harsh at times, but driven by a desire to win, to elevate everyone around him to the same level of excellence.
“I don’t regret pushing people,” Jordan continued. “But I do regret some of the ways I did it. Sometimes, I went too far. But the standards, the expectations—those never changed. Excellence doesn’t come without sacrifice.”
The raw honesty in Jordan’s words shifted the mood of the room. No longer was this just a celebrity in a tuxedo giving rehearsed answers. The man who had built an empire on his competitive fire was now giving a rare glimpse into his humanity.
The reporters around the room murmured their approval, and Tyson felt a sense of relief wash over him. He had done it. He had gotten more from Jordan than he could have imagined.
As the session ended, Tyson gathered his things, processing everything he had just heard. Jordan’s response had been unexpected, but it was exactly what Tyson had hoped for. The legend of Michael Jordan was more than just the hard-nosed competitor seen on the court. It was a man who had pushed himself and those around him to be better, but who now, years later, could reflect on the cost of that drive.
Later that evening, as Tyson observed Jordan mingling with guests, he couldn’t help but think of his father, who had passed away several years earlier. Tyson remembered how they had watched the Bulls games together, cheering on their hero. It was bittersweet, but Tyson knew that this moment, this story, was something his father would have been proud of.
As the night wound down, Tyson reflected on the journey he had taken in those few hours—from a young reporter eager to meet a legend, to someone who had witnessed the layers behind the myth. Michael Jordan had shown him a side few ever saw—a side that was far more human than anyone could have imagined.
Tyson’s story wasn’t just about a superstar athlete; it was about a man who had lived through extraordinary pressure, who had sacrificed much to achieve greatness, but who had also paid the price for it. His journey wasn’t just about basketball—it was about leadership, growth, and learning to balance the drive for success with the impact it had on the people around him.
Tyson smiled as he made his way home. It had been more than just an assignment. It had been a lesson in understanding the complexities of greatness.
Michael Jordan taught a young ‘reporter’ a valuable lesson
Remembering when Michael Jordan put a young “reporter” in his place, the first time I ever entered the Chicago Bulls locker room.
On November 4, 1996, Michael Jordan was a guest on the Oprah Winfrey show, promoting the film Space Jam, set to debut 11 days later.
The Bulls held a light practice that day getting ready to play the Vancouver Grizzlies the following night.
I would not remember any of this had November 5, 1996 not been my first time “reporting” at a Chicago Bulls basketball game. I had graduated college six months prior from The University of Iowa. There was not much of a life plan at that point, only that I wanted to be around sports and Michael Jordan, as much as possible.
I learned from my Dad that Columbia College Chicago offered a radio play-by-play class taught by legendary Chicago reporter “Red” Mottlow. Like my father, Red was a Marshall High School graduate.
While the class taught intricacies of play-by-play, most importantly it afforded students the opportunity to go to a Bulls game and try their hand calling a game. Plus, students were permitted in the locker room with Red after the game and allowed to interview the players. It took me less than a second to sign up.
So here we are! Bulls versus Grizzlies. Somewhere, there is an amazing play-by-play tape of me calling the action. The Bulls won easily, 96-73. I remember none of the game.
After the game, Michael Jordan was in a great mood. The Bulls were 3-0. His first movie was coming out in 10 days. The Bulls were the defending NBA champions on their way to another 3-peat.
Jordan did his postgame interviews sessions in waves. TV and radio reporters who lined up outside the Bulls locker room at halftime were generally first, followed by the beat writers who would edge closer and get what they needed. The third wave were more random folk, which on this night included a “reporter” from Columbia College.
Surprisingly, Jordan continued to talk with the third wave of reporters for an extended period of time. He was in no rush get home or anywhere. Jordan was enjoying himself. I couldn’t believe it. This was sports heaven.
At this point, we were all “friends” in my mind. My heart started pumping. I am the biggest Jordan fan. I have to ask a question. This is my moment to become besties with Michael!
I thought for a second about what to ask- and then it came to me. Oprah had kidded Jordan about a dance he did when he was young with Scottie Pippen, Horace Grant, Charles Oakley and Sedale Threatt to Kool Moe Dee’s song, How Ya like me now.
Jordan had laughed with Oprah yesterday. Maybe, he would do the dance again in front of us for old time sake?! Brilliant idea! Go ahead and ask it I told myself.
““Hey Michael,” I said somewhat confidently. “How bout a little ‘How ya like me now’ dance ala Oprah?””
Jordan turned. Glared at me. The smile was gone. Looked down. Paused. Then said disapprovingly while shaking his head back and forth, “Don’t jump in.”
Oh no. There would be no dance. We were no longer “friends”. Everyone else in the circle laughed. I was mortified. Jordan had put the first-time “reporter” dude, who tried to make a funny, in his rightful place. Jordan then chuckled, and walked off into the night.
I had prematurely ended the Jordan media session. He may have stayed for another couple of blissful reporter minutes. Instead, he was gone- weirdly challenged by 23-year-old me.
This was the famous competitive side of Jordan coming out. “Don’t jump in.” You don’t get to play and have fun at the expense of MJ. Lesson learned.
