Sewing 101: Halberstam’s Needlework Glorifies the Greatest
David Halberstam, esteemed American writer, journalist, and historian, wrote “Jordan’s Moment” on December 14th of 1998. Halberstam wrote the piece in the apocalyptic aftermath of the ’98 Chicago Bulls season, christened by a victory over the Utah Jazz in Game Six. He narrates not only the competitive ferocity of Jordan, but also chronicles the events leading up to the 1998 season in his piece for the The New Yorker.
Halberstam accomplishes something here that engraves Jordan into the storybook of sports itself.
As he weaves together multiple story lines, Halberstam immortalizes the iconic Flu Game, the competition between Utah and Chicago, the inner workings of Phil Jackson’s golden team, and the beauty of Game Six.
Firstly, he lets quotes speak for themselves. When asked how Jordan plays, former coach Doug Collins says “[Jordan] wants to cut your heart out and show it to you.” When compared to the predatorial boxer Jake LaMotta, Jordan simply replies, “Who’s Jake LaMotta?”. And, as Jordan recalls stealing the ball from Malone in Game Six of the ’98 series, he says “Karl never saw me coming.”
These 3 quotes tap into the potent, yet simplistic nature of Halberstam’s tone. A ferocious undercurrent drives the piece, while allowing quotes to breathe and land on the reader. And, when they do, we are left with the remnants of fourth-quarter adrenaline, squeaky shoes on wood floors, and the belief that Jordan could never lose — even if he did.
Ultimately, Halberstam is the seamster of a story. Through his stitching, the reader catches the brilliance of an NBA series imbued with drama. We never miss a beat of action. Instead, we are left longing for a conclusion that the writer prolongs.
Here is a rough paraphrase of Halberstam’s account of Game Six:
We hear some summary and then dive into the head of Jordan’s former teammate B.J. Armstrong. Now we’re in the fourth quarter of the game. Dick Ebersol, the head of NBC Sports, takes it away as he hopes for that money-making, golden Game Seven. All of a sudden, we’re thrust into the middle of a Chicago time-out. Then, we’re at home with Buzz Peterson and his wife, watching the game and prophesizing the Chicago victory to come. Just as quickly, time slows when Michael releases and sinks that unforgettable shot.
Can’t you just see the movie he has sewn together here? But also, why write about so much content happening off the court?
Well, Halberstam knows what you want. He knows you want to engage with that deep, worshipping desire to see the heroic Michael Jordan vanquishing his enemies. Instead of simply handing that to you, he makes you wait for it with multiple storylines that build the tension of a long-awaited series.
Let us not forget the philosophical lubricant that Halberstam sprinkles on the reader. When comparing the Bulls to other uninspired NBA teams, he writes: “The price of discipline might be a gap in creativity — the ability to freelance — when the disciplined offense was momentarily checkmated.” Similar, Halberstam delivers a story-book experience of Fernando Medina’s iconic photo of Jordan clenching Game Six:
“What is remarkable is the closeup it offers of so many Utah fans. Though the ball has not yet reached the basket, the game appears over to them. The anguish — the certitude of defeat — is on their faces. In a number of instances their hands are extended as if to stop Jordan and keep the shot from going in. Some of the fans have already put their hands to their faces, as in a moment of grief. There is one exception to this: a young boy on the right, in a Chicago Bulls shirt, whose arms are already in the air in a victory call.”
The writer captures this moment with his own camera of words, while concurrently satisfying the reader’s appetite for Utah blood (sorry Jazz fans…).
This piece is so much bigger than a Game Six. Halberstam leaves the reader with the impending sense that this era of basketball will propel and sharpen the quality of the NBA — forever. As he stitches the narrative together, the reader can’t help but find themselves wrapped underneath the “quilt” of stories he has constructed before their very eyes. And, it’s a cozy place to be.
This is storytelling: knowing what the audience wants and not giving it to them until the very last, possible moment. He concludes the piece with the overstated but never forgotten chime of Jordan being the “greatest player to ever have played the game.” Not a bad sewing job.
