Reflections Of An Uneasy Mind

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“Just as soon as LeBron James peeled off his Cleveland Cavaliers jersey in the bowels of TD Garden moments after yet another early dismissal from championship contention — this time at the hands of the Boston Celtics — myself and likely every other basketball fan from sea to shining sea promptly began to wonder — or, more precisely, wishfully thought — about the likelihood that our respective team’s jersey would be the next one he’d pull onto those shoulders that already carried the weight of seven years worth of unfulfilled expectations.”
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“I’ve had to realize I am, at least in part, responsible for the perpetuation of a system that is in dire need of reform.” ———>link in bio for more<———— #weareregalradio #makethoughthappen #blacklivesmatters #blackvotesmatter #change #justice #bethechange #igdaily #igers #instadaily #instagood #instagram #igwriters #igwritersclub #igwriter #igwritingcommunity #igwrites #writer #writersofinstagram #writingcommunity #writing #writerscommunity #blackwriters #blackwritersofinstagram #wecandothis #achangeisgonnacome #somebodycomelookatthis #foodforthought #vote #voteforchange https://www.instagram.com/p/CBYY8FAn8n7/?igshid=8jrsn6lo12y7

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A post shared by Drew Holden (@hismindonpaper) on Jun 12, 2020 at 7:16am PDT

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Column: New Energy, Results Come From Wide-Spread Protest of Police Violence

I bore witness to protests that continue to spread across the planet, by people from all walks of life marching peacefully while carrying si

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“Column: George Floyd's Murder Illustrates Betrayal of Blacks By Police, Government https://t.co/WPjK3o6Omh via @RegalRadio1”

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“In the amount of time it would take you to properly wash your hands twenty-one times over, George Floyd, handcuffed and face down, begged f

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“Last Dance”: Documentary Shortened Social Distance Between Sports Fans

ESPN’s 10-part documentary series was more than just a trip down memory lane, it was a much-needed breather from our worldwide crisis that h

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As I sat slouched on my couch Sunday with a few shots of Hennessy still percolating in my belly awaiting “The Last Dance” to return from what would be the last commercial break of the series, I couldn’t help but to acknowledge the void that would soon re-emerge by the end of the evening.

ESPN’s documentary was more than just a trip down memory lane. It was a much-needed breather from this three-months-long-and-counting crisis that has toppled our everyday lives and forced us to question if a resurrection of our previous way of life is even practical. “The Last Dance” bridged the gap between those of us who are old enough to remember how dominant those Bulls teams were and others who, apart from high-definition-less clips, could only take our word for it. Millions of people tuned into every hour-long episode, and some even dressed to the nines — or rather in the (Air Jordan) 9s — in Chicago Bulls regalia.

This is why “theGrio” contributor Jason Johnson hurled his shot at the entirely wrong basket.

While expectedly well-written, and sprinkled with clever jabs targeted at the series’ protagonist, Johnson’s editorial essentially juxtaposes Michael Jordan’s unwillingness to involve himself in the socio-political issues that existed during the upswing and peak of his superstardom with the outspoken nature of some of today’s most prolific athletes. But, applying modern standards of behavior to a by-gone era makes as much sense as one’s expectation of Jordan to divulge intimate details of his family life within the confines of a documentary chronicling his basketball career, or for that documentary to not resemble a marathon of highlights of the player most people — his contemporaries included — consider to be the greatest of all-time.

Through “The Last Dance,” Johnson, presumably, wanted Jordan to speak to this idea of his responsibility to be as vocal off-the-court as he was athletic on it. Johnson may think this rebuttal is too simplistic or narrow-minded. But that’s him. Because his aim is off.

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It wasn’t the retelling of his introduction to his teammates’ drug use in the 80s or his rescuing of Dennis Rodman from a 48-hour bender.

It’s how Michael Jordan’s eyes began to well up with tears as he spoke about the cost of winning and leadership that I find most intriguing through the first eight installments of “The Last Dance.”

To witness Jordan, who always seems unapologetic for the manner in which he chose to galvanize his teammates, fight back tears was shocking. (So, too, was seeing the condition in which a years-old cigar-cutting accident has left his right index finger.)

I wonder what was going through his mind at that moment.

Was it the memory of the specific price he paid — or continues to pay — for the leadership style that earned him an unblemished Finals record and global recognition as the greatest of all-time?

Was there an inkling of remorse for actions taken or words spoken to his teammates?

Was he contemplating how he might now be perceived in the court of public opinion?

Obviously, only he knows for sure.

But, I still couldn’t help but to wonder...

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Not that it will compensate for this ongoing and seemingly indefinite shelter-in-place mandate, but today’s announcement that ESPN is releasing its documentary series, “The Last Dance” next month is a warm-welcomed consolation prize to Chicago Bulls enthusiasts and lukewarm basketball fans alike, who are in the midst of a 13-days-and-counting involuntary live sports fast and inundated with an otherwise sobering news cycle daily.

I’m already struggling to decide if I should lay around the house and take bathroom/snack breaks in the Concords with the pinstriped away jersey or the Infrareds with the slanted cursive away jersey.

House-arrest fetes aside, the revisiting of that iconic team will revive childhood memories of my family and I on the edge of our seats — and couch — in the living room with our eyes fixed on the television and our emotions on our sleeves watching Michael Jordan transform basketball courts into 94 x 50 works of art, Scottie Pippen strum the sweetest of notes from a second fiddle as we’d ever heard and Dennis Rodman make an extravaganza of dirty work.

I can still hear the NBA on NBC theme music.

My apologies to the less fortunate individuals among us who came to know the Association through ABC and ESPN (just YouTube it). While the aforementioned reference may go over their heads like many of those wacky dyes that adorned Rodman’s crown, maybe this series will help illustrate for them how absurd it is to argue anyone — past or present — being Jordan’s superior on the basketball court.

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While many of the people I know are heeding the advice of medical professionals and our elected officials as it pertains to preventing the spread of the Coronavirus, there still exists, presumably, an air of invincibility or, at least, an absence of palpable fear.

This morning, my fear became much more clearer and present.

Someone whom I’d worked closely with over the past month was thought to not only have contracted this virus, but to have lost his life because of it. My already-restless mind went berserk; could I have contracted this virus?; could I have passed it to my son?; I should get tested, but they’ll likely turn me away for being asymptotic; I’ll have to quarantine myself from my son for two weeks; Should I reconsider the fashion in which I treat my patients? Around and around my thoughts spun into the afternoon until it was later revealed that this person’s death was unrelated to the Coronavirus.

That news brought forth bittersweet emotion, for sure, but I continue to feel conflicted about my safety and that of my patients. Should I implement a more hands-off approach and, if so, how can I justify maintaining a “safe” distance from those individuals whom I’ve been charged with helping to stand, transfer, walk, and climb stairs?

Unless I’m given the kind of talent required for residence at Charles Xavier’s mansion, it seems there is no clear-cut solution.

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So, Waddle & Silvy were discussing the possibility of Michael Jordan’s reputation taking a hit once this never-before-seen footage is exposed via “The Last Dance” documentary.

Times are unquestionably different, including what’s politically acceptable or socially responsible, but the footage isn’t from this era. That needs to be understood by anyone who watches the doc and has any notion to question Jordan.

Furthermore, I’m not too sure anybody can galvanize his or her teammates to secure six championship titles in eight years without being, at the very least, an occasional asshole.

Finally, who thought Jordan was a “nice guy” inside of his 94’ x 50’ office anyway?

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This unprecedented outbreak has evoked psychological unrest as the smartest among us scramble about in search of a concrete solution to a fluid problem. It’s as confounding as math equations became once multiple symbols and the alphabet were unceremoniously thrown together.

Today, I needed to be reminded that no one — including those individuals in healthcare administration — is treading through the muck of these uncharted waters in which we’re submerged with a how-to manual for our salvation.

I may not agree with certain decisions that are made, but I can’t ignore the difficulty that was undoubtedly involved in the process of their arrival either.

I needed to “zoom out” to keep from caving in.

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Those ligaments that cushioned D. Rose’s knees against every abrupt hop step, leap and bound supported so much more than his 200-pound frame.

They carried an immense longing for the return of organizational excellence and post-season success.

And when one of them gave way and sent Rose collapsing to the United Center floor eight years ago moments after an explosive, but routine, foray through the lane so to did the collective spirit of his Chicago brethren and any realistic hope of our native son returning the Larry O’Brien trophy back home.

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