The Gut Check

With an hour remainig before tip-off of Game 5 of the `97 Finals, Michael Jordan lay on his back in a lightless room deep inside the Delta Center. He had a bag of ice on his head and a pail in his grip. A bad pizza the night before had come back to haunt him at 4 AM; he`d been in the bed all day, with the exception of the occassional crawl to the toilet. He wanted nothing more than to sleep in his Salt Lake hotel room, but that wasn`t an option. In their charge to capture a fifth title in seven years, the Bulls had beaten the Jazz in games one and Two at the United Center. But in the Midwest, things were different. The Jazz, who during the season had won 21 straight on their home court, had extended their streak by winning Games Three and Four. They looked to take the series lead with one more to play in Utah. Nauseated, dizzy, weak, dehydrated, exhausted-one look at him as he took the court told the whole story. Large bags beneath his eyes appeared to be pushing them shut. His cheeks were flushed and swollen. His movements during the layup drills were lethargic. Money was green. But as the game unfolded, MJ seemed to draw energy from somewhere. Perhaps from the sight of the giant picture of Carl Malone hanging in the roof`s corner, with the letters M-V-P underneath. He scored the Bulls' first two buckets of the game and the first eight points of the second quarter. Sucking down Gatorade at half-time, he continued to play. Continued to dominate. During timeouts, he looked like he was about to pass out. But on the floor, he continued to be like Mike. Playing 44 minutes, he led all scorers with 38 and added seven boards and five assists. With 25 seconds left and the game tight like Rodman`s shorts, Jordan got the ball at the top of the key. He launched a three that was in the whole way. The Bulls held on to win 90-88. They would head home to win Game Six and another championship.

Sick, right? - JERAMIE MCPEEK