My foster brother had those three shirts, back in the mid 80s. He would be posting up at the end of the driveway, smoking Marlboro red with the neighbor’s daughter from across the street. Trying to look slick and smelling like he had just jumped in a cologne bottle. He loved wearing those at that time.
I forgot to mention, he’s a 6’6 tanned white man with green eyes.
He played basketball. With his size, he used to lift me on his feet while laying down on the dining room carpet. I sure thought I was flying.
Anyway as a kid, my favorite was the Magic one. I had seen a few no-look passes on the news and he looked like he was the best basketball player ever. I didn’t think much of MJ. I didn’t think anything about Larry Bird. He looked like the past.
It took a few more years for the Michael-mania to start take over the world.
The fact that my foster brother is the same size as MJ was never lost on me. Because I didn’t have any black folks in my life, I kind of decided to make MJ my other older brother. The one that’s really good at basketball. The brother I wish I had.
This is me these days. I’m still hoopin’ like I play against someone I can’t stop. On a good day though, I can look like a 1984 Chicago draft.