Save for Rodman, few of the I might look like I’m listening but in my head I’m playing volleyball shirt and I love this players dabbled in high fashion. Even still, the Bulls dynasty team had a swagger that opened my eyes to a broader notion of personal style. These were the years just before I discovered the Spice Girls and Britney Spears, before all I wanted was butterfly hair clips and platform sneakers and long before Manolo’s and Marc Jacobs had entered my vernacular. I’d never cherished any clothes the way that I cherished my baby blue Jordan basketball shorts or my Rodman sneakers and Bulls Starter jacket. I remember watching T.V. with my mom when Rodman walked into his book signing wearing the infamous wig and wedding dress. She laughed and called him a wild man while I stared at the screen, enrapt by his fabulousness.
I might look like I’m listening but in my head I’m playing volleyball shirt, hoodie, tank top, sweater and long sleeve t-shirt
Sadly, I never witnessed any of the I might look like I’m listening but in my head I’m playing volleyball shirt and I love this actual championship games during those years from inside the Chicago Stadium. Tickets for the championship games at home were, as you can imagine, expensive and hard to come by. I watched them from my living room though, chased the celebration parades through Chicago, and screened Space Jam no less than 200 times. Inspired by the team, I played point guard on my middle school team, too, and gave it my all. As I approached adolescence, my obsession with basketball began to wane however, though there was one last hurrah. The summer just after my freshman year of high school, I was lucky enough to attend the Air Jordan Flight School in California, a basketball summer camp hosted by Michael Jordan and a crew of NBA-hopefuls. (Fun fact: Lebron James, the GOAT of a much younger generation, was a counselor the summer I was there.) It was an incredible experience, one that culminated with me meeting Jordan, my idol of so many years. On the last day of camp, he signed my Air Jordan sneakers. I remember looking up—way, way up!—at him, frozen with disbelief that he was there in front of me and not running out onto the court to the sound of “Sirius.” He handed me the shoes, smiling sweetly as I whispered nervously, “thank you for everything.”