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My bad experiences at the arenas did not deter me, however, from stopping by the LA Sports Arena this morning to see Michael as he and the Bulls arrived for and left practice for tonight's game against the Clippers. This time out, however, there were a few things different--with the plan (that is, if I even had one then) and within me. The more tangible alteration was the no-brainer decision to leave very early so there was no chance I would miss both the arrival and the departure. The other change was within me; my own self-serving interests were no longer the top priority.
One of the quirks that goes with running a celebrity site is receiving messages from people believing you to be the star; as such, I receive a handful of messages addressed to Michael every week. Typically they are of the "I love you, Michael" variety, so I usually don't pay much attention to these messages. But this past June I received a message from Mrs. Carolina Santos from Honduras, who is currently in the States as her 10-year-old son, Andres, is being treated for cancer in Fort Lauderdale. The past few months, I have been corresponding regularly with Mrs. Santos, and I have sent Andres a number of Michael-related materials I have received from Nike; while these little souvenirs, including an autopen-signed photo of Michael, have worked to lift Andres's spirits considerably (and his health--his tumor is almost gone, last I heard), deep within I knew that just sending Andres these items was not quite good enough. I had to reach Michael directly; certainly I couldn't help myself, but at the very least I could try to help someone else, someone in greater need. So my main goal today was to let Michael know--by way of a manila envelope in which I enclosed a letter, printouts of the various correspondences with Mrs. Santos, a self-addressed stamped envelope made out to them in Fort Lauderdale, a picture from the Space Jam shoot for him to sign--and, yes, partial printouts of the Heartbreak and Beyond the Court sites. It was hard enough just to try to get Michael to come by and shake my hand; what chance did I have to try to give him something --and get him to accept it? That was the big challenge...
I arrived at the Sports Arena/Coliseum site, once again decked out in my official Air Jordan Flight Club T-shirt, bright and early at 8:30AM. I had no concrete idea as to when the Bulls' bus would arrive, but I knew that it would not have been for at least two hours. So I spent most of my time sitting at a stone bench emblazoned with the 1984 Summer Olympics emblem, reading the Los Angeles Times, which quickly got old, and periodically getting up and walking around a little, exploring the venue. I didn't do this for very long, seeing that there were two police cars circling the arena, passing me by over and over again--I didn't want to send out the wrong impression.
At around 9:30, during one of my walking spells the man who ran a Coliseum-side souvenir store called out to me and asked if I were willing to help him carry some things out from the stockroom. Seeing that I had nothing else to do, I agreed. We carried out two display cases: one filled with hats to a van; another, also containing hats but not filled, to a table. Once I was finished, he thanked me with $2--a dollar for each case, I suppose. It wasn't much, but I thought it was a good omen, which I tried not to think about lest things fall apart, as they always seem to do for me.
At approximately 11:05, a Gold Coast Tours bus--the bus--arrived. What surprised me was that it did not go down the tunnel underneath the arena; instead, it parked on the sidewalk, next to an entrance. Within seconds me and a lady who had been waiting in her car ran to the door. Carrying a genuine Illinois license plate reading "DA BULL" and a copy of Michael's excellent photo book Rare Air, she got there ahead of me, and she managed to get Scottie Pippen to sign the license plate. When I got there, Scottie was about to go in, and I called out his name and readied my camera. He turned around and looked at me briefly before being dragged in by security. Soon after that, I left that area.
It turned out that the woman, Debra, had come to the Sports Arena often to hit NBA practices and get autographs, and since she was more seasoned at this than I was, we decided to stick together. She was not only there to get Bulls' autographs (namely Michael's), but she was also there to meet up with Keith Closs, a Clipper center whom she had known since childhood. I was a little nervous standing right by the arena in a VIP parking lot--not to mention with a police car cruising the area--but she said that police never bothered her. And they didn't--in fact, the policemen cruising in the squad car were autograph seekers as well. Whenever a Clipper would emerge from the arena doors and walk to his car, they stopped the squad car in the player's car's way and asked for signatures. Naturally, each player they asked obliged. In an effort to make things a bit more interesting, I got the autograph of Clipper forward Loy Vaught, a very friendly guy who also posed for a pic twice since the sun glare was too intense when I took the first.
At around noon, after Debra met up with Keith (who gave her three "backstage" passes for after tonight's game), she left to use the restroom, and I returned to the doorway where the Bulls were to emerge. Looking through the doors when I got there was none other than Kadeem Hardison, co-star of NBC's A Different World and Fox's Between Brothers and such films as Vampire in Brooklyn and The 6th Man; in fact, he was wearing a 6th Man T-shirt. I said hello to him and asked what he was doing there. He said that he was to meet a ball boy friend of his (named, appropriately enough, Mike) so he can let him in and meet Michael. I introduced myself and asked him if he wouldn't mind my accompanying him in finding a way in, and he very cordially agreed.
So Kadeem and I went to another doorway, almost opening a slightly open door, but wouldn't open enough. We ended up finding an open door, and standing by a truck parked at the door was someone he knew at the arena. This employee escorted us into the lobby, down some stairs, and into the empty Clippers locker room, where we waited very fleetingly before being sent to a walkway surrounding the court, in which many newsmedia were waiting. All through this walk I kept on thanking Kadeem for his incredible kindness and generosity, and he said it was no problem. Mike the ball boy soon surfaced, and he told us that the team was nearly finished with practice, and that he'd let us in in a while. In the meantime, Kadeem and I talked more at length, telling him about my sites, giving him my business card, showing him my AJFC membership card, briefly running down my bad luck with Michael, and explaining the envelope. He appeared to sympathize with my hard luck story. Before long, Mike was leading us into the actual arena, and as we walked down the steps to the court, a ball was flung at us from the court. Guess who threw it... Michael, wearing matching black shorts and a sleeveless shirt. At that moment it started to sink in--I was actually at a Bulls practice, and there on the hardwood right in front of me were Michael, Scottie, Dennis Rodman, Phil Jackson... everyone. It was truly unbelievable, and I still can't believe it right now.
Kadeem's first order of business after we actually set foot on the actual court (which, I must say, appeared a lot smaller than I thought it would) greeted a couple of Bulls security guards, to whom I introduced myself. They were very friendly and seemed almost happy to see me there. After briefly conversing, Kadeem said hello to Dennis, who was giving a news interview nearby; he smiled and said a couple of words. Of course, my attention was focused on Michael, who again decided to "miss" a shot by throwing it at Kadeem and me. Kadeem was then encouraged to shoot it, which he did--albeit with one hand and missing badly, hitting the side of the backboard. Soon I saw Phil and assistant coaches Bill Cartwright, Tex Winter, and Jimmy Rodgers making their way out, followed by Dennis, and others. Kadeem asked one of the security guards about seeing Scottie, and he said that we could crossover to the other side of the court by the scorer's table to meet him. That we did, and after a few words exchanged between Kadeem and Pip, I introduced myself to the currently sidelined all-star. He shook my hand, and he happily posed for a photo with me, which Kadeem took. I could not help but overhearing what Scottie was telling Kadeem during the course of their conversation, which I thought was quite interesting--apparently he's been using this current West Coast road trip to scout teams he can sign with once he becomes a free agent at the end of the season. After a few minutes, Scottie was told to make his way up to the bus.
During all this Michael, with icebags taped to his knees, was sitting on the scorer's table, fielding questions from the media. As soon as he could tear his way from them, he went over to Kadeem and gave him a hug. As I trembled, Kadeem introduced me to him as "my man Mike." Michael turned to me, shook my hand very firmly, looked me directly in the eye, and said with such certainty a statement that continues to haunt me and probably will forever: "Wait--I've met you before."
Now, I don't know if he confused me with someone else (though I can't think there are too many people around who look like me, and if there are some, my heart goes out to them) or if he just has an incredible memory and remembered my face from the Space Jam premiere, where I stood directly across from him as he was being interviewed--for all I know, he could have remembered me from when he came over at the Space Jam shoot. It was just the strangest moment, and I probably would have cried if I weren't just so shocked.
In any case, I told him that we hadn't indeed met, and that I was, however, an extra on Space Jam. Kadeem very generously allowed me some space, and I told Michael about my sites, complimenting him on his new official website, handed him the envelope (which he thanked me for), gave him a business card (which he immediately read), and explained what was inside the package--including the story of Andres. Of course, I stammered a lot, and at one point words escaped me, and I salvaged the moment by saying "suddenly I can't talk anymore," and Michael, Kadeem, and everyone else around us laughed--including a TV cameraman, who was taping the whole meeting (I wonder if it will ever see air--no pun intended). Actually getting to talk to him, face to face, was so unreal; unlike a certain other idol of mine whom I met this past summer, Michael's eyes remained fixed at mine, appearing to actually listen and digest what I was saying--that is, except for a brief instant where he turned away and looked off when I was stammering, to which Kadeem said, "Give the kid a break; he's really nervous." I also told him that I had e-mailed him through his site, and he said that he gets so many that he probably hasn't even gotten to mine.
Before long, Michael was being pressured to go, and before leaving the court, Michael signed a few items for people. After that I found myself walking up the stairs with Kadeem and Michael, one step behind as they conversed. Before actually leaving the building, I had Kadeem take a photo of me and Michael, who gladly obliged. Once we stepped foot out of the building, a mini-scene erupted. There were a number of people asking him to sign stuff, and he signed most of what was put in his face, including Debra's license plate (which was now full of signatures) and Rare Air book. Soon Michael was being rushed onto the bus as I said my final thanks, to him and one of the security guards, who shook my hand again. Michael safely in the transport, the bus pulled away, and the crowd dispersed.
I thanked Kadeem again, saying that I just about owe him my life. A few people who stuck around asked him for his autograph--including a couple of cops on bikes--and, as the capper for the day, got one as well. As a sendoff, I said, "Maybe I should go to class now," and he said, "Yes, you should." After he wished me the best of luck and told me to take it easy, I left him with a reporter who wanted an interview. While waiting for a signal to change, Kadeem and I said our final goodbye with a wave...
The images are so vivid yet otherworldly, as if it were all a dream--for once, things did work out for me, but in a way I had never thought was actually possible, as if I had just imagined it. Yet I can still feel Michael shaking my hand, and I can still see his eyes looking deep into mine. And it still hasn't quite registered--not only was I able to give him the message about Andres, I was able to have a substantial, if brief, conversation, and after this and reading what's in the envelope he is certain to remember me. I feel like crying--the tears are right at the floodgates--but keeping them contained is a grin, a happy, satisfied grin that I don't think I had been able to make since that day two years, three months, and 11 days ago.
Which makes me wonder... why now? Why after all this time, all the disappointments and heartbreaks, did it come to pass at this time? Was it God's way of rewarding me after all I had done, His way to lift the burden that had been keeping me down and enable me to go on with my life? Or maybe it's just concrete evidence of something Michael himself had said on The Oprah Winfrey Show a year ago:
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