As I’ve said before, I did not have a super noble reason for getting into journalism.
I knew I would never be able to play sports for a living, so I reasoned the next best thing would be to write about it. I enjoyed writing and performed well on writing assignments in school so I just went with it.
Once I began studying journalism I began to appreciate what journalism is supposed to be about — a pursuit of the truth.
Primarily, though, the idea of being at big sporting events and getting paid to be there was my motivation.
Then there’s reality, especially in the first job out of college.
Whether you are a news reporter or sports reporter, the adrenaline-pumping assignments are pretty rare.
I spent a lot of time typing high school track and field results and league bowling scores. I wrestled with the tiny agate type a million times to make sure I could fit one more baseball box score on the page.
On the news side I typed in obituaries and bridge results from the country club. Our community announcement feature was called This and That, and I spent a good bit of time typing in VFW dance announcements and Garden Club meeting notifications.
Most of the reporting part of the job involved high school sports of some sort, with the county golf championship thrown in on occasion. And, yes, we had to come back with a story from the local Rotary Club every single week.
The reward for all of that would be to get away a few Saturdays during football season to either Tuscaloosa or Auburn. Occasionally, I would pop up to Florence to catch UNA.
It kept a young reporter going when you’re putting in 55- or 60-hour weeks for $21,000 a year.
But in the spring of 1994 — about 16 months into my journalism career — the greatest basketball player to ever live decided to play professional baseball. Michael Jordan’s rights were acquired by the Chicago White Sox and he was assigned to the team’s AA affiliate in Birmingham, 45 minutes south of where I worked in Cullman.
The Birmingham Barons issued 103 press credentials for his first game there. I decided to skip the media crush for the first home stand and requested a pass for the second home stand that would take place a couple of weeks later.
I don’t say this too loud in Alabama but basketball has always been my favorite sport. I was an only child. My dad nailed a goal to a tree for me and that’s what I did every day when I got home from school.
In 1979 I watched Magic Johnson and Larry Bird play for the NCAA Championship and almost every day after that I envisioned myself as Larry Bird making the game-winning shot on my dirt court.
I started following “Mike” Jordan at North Carolina and when he went to the NBA all the Larry Bird bias I had in me still couldn’t deny that I was watching the best basketball player in the world.
Despite a semi-retirement from basketball to pursue this weird baseball thing, Michael Jordan was the most recognizable athlete on the planet and he had played the sport I loved better than anyone.
Just sitting in the press box and watching him try to hit a curve ball would make all those VFW announcements worth it.
So on a late April evening in 1994, I headed down I-65 on my way to Hoover Metropolitan Stadium.
I entered the Birmingham city limits and tuned to sports radio to hear what I didn’t want to hear.
“Michael Jordan will not play tonight for the Birmingham Barons. He has been given the night off by Manager Terry Francona.”
I had a couple of options at that point. I could turn around and head back home or watch some free minor league baseball. Since I was almost there anyway, I decided on the latter.
I was greeted by media relations director Chris Pika when I arrived at my seat in the press box.
“Guess you haven’t heard,” he said.
“I did, but I was almost already here so why not catch a little baseball?” I replied.
“You’re more lucky than you know then,” he said. “All the media here to cover Jordan have left. Other than the normal Barons guy it’s probably just you. I can take you down after the game if you want to interview him.”
So that’s how I managed six minutes of one-on-one interview time with Michael Jordan.
Chris guided me into a room downstairs after the game where a meal was prepared for the team when His Airness strolled in and said hello.
I’m 24 years old. I tried to look and sound professional but I’m pretty sure I fell short.
I asked a few general questions.
What has been the most difficult adjustment for you over the past two weeks? How have you assimilated with your teammates? What has Birmingham been like?
I remembered reading somewhere that he had received instruction from Walt Hriniak, at that time the most well-known hitting instructor in the game. When I asked him about that his eyes lit up.
He was polite and engaged even though I’m sure he had been asked those questions 10,000 times already.
Then it was over and I floated back to Cullman on a cloud of pure pleasure.
Michael Jordan hit .202 in 1994 for the Birmingham Barons and went back to the NBA after that.
But for a young sports reporter buried in bowling scores, I sure am glad he wanted to give baseball a whirl.
Wow. Such a cool story you have getting to meet the definite goat of basketball