Reggie Miller was my absolute hero. I was smitten with the three-point shot that swished the net without ever touching the rim. In fact, I would often dream about it, and see myself behind the three point line making that all-important shot as the clock came to nothing. This was in late 90s, back when I was an NBA fanatic (as you would be, in the 90s), back when we played basketball until the hoop was barely visible in the dusk and the parents started to get worried. Michael Jordan was of course a genius and we must have been awe-struck by the famous jump from the free point line, but somehow I always needed a less obvious favourite (something I would carry into my future obsessions). Which was why I was rooting for Reggie Miller and the Indiana Pacers. Specifically, I have strong memories of season 1997/1998 when my hopes were crushed (quite inevitably, I should say) and Chicago Bulls beat them in the hard-fought series that was destined to come to the wire.
The Last Dance, last year's documentary on that singular season as well as on Michael Jordan's career overall, was a huge memory trip for me. More importantly, though, it was a revelation. As I was watching the summary of the legendary Eastern Conference final (which gave me quite a few sleepless nights back in 1998), I found myself somewhat bewildered by the idea that I could possibly support Indiana. Reggie Miller? Great player, a hall of famer, but in the grand scheme of things - little more than a footnote to the story of Michael Jordan.
This, I believe, is not just a testimony to the fickle infatuations of childhood but also, and most importantly, the evidence of the power of filmmaking. Before we get to that game seven of 1998, there is a great story of Michael Jordan's road to five rings. You get to see the almost pathological competitiveness of the great man, the motivational bullying that he inflicted on his teammates, the brutal Detroit Pistons rivalry that lives on, the super stardom that was bitter as much as it was sweet. It is a fascinating story, something you binge-watch over a couple of days (I believe it is not even especially relevant if you were an NBA fan back when these things happened), and so when you arrive at the 1998 series, you arrive bruised and beaten, and oddly disturbed by the words of Reggie Miller that the Indiana Pacers had a stronger team that year. And so it is like you get there, into that moment in late 90s, and you are rooting for Chicago Bulls and you are hoping that the Last Dance will end the way it is supposed to.
Because it is such a beautiful career arc, so beautifully conveyed. The focal point is of course season 1997/1998. The season was dubbed the Last Dance by Phil Jackson before it even started, and it is such a perfect narrative hook: the team knew that they would never again play together (the reason is explained in the documentary in great detail), and they went for the final push. A film crew was allowed to shoot them off the court throughout the whole season, so we get to see quite a lot of priceless footage of the tensions and the more relaxed moments in-between the games. Michael Jordan's cruel antics during training sessions, Dennis Rodman's dysfunctionality, Scottie Pippen's mental and physical struggles. The story of the Last Dance is not just one year though. It is decades, and features flashbacks coming all the way back to Jordan's childhood and the brutal beatdowns at the hands of Larry Bird. It is breathless stuff.
It is not all Michael Jordan, though, and there are stories of Rodman, and Pippen, and Toni Kukoč, and Steve Kerr (a lot of focus is on that shot, of course). I know Pippen was not happy about the way he was portrayed, and I know Rodman was more interested in talking about Kim Jong-un than basketball, and I know Jerry Reinsdorf was not entirely genuine, but if anything - it only adds colour to the great story contained in this documentary. It is a story set in the pre-Internet days and, quite inevitably, there is still a lot of mystery to the whole thing, and that is something that a younger audience should try to appreciate: there is always a certain mystique to the heroes of the past, something you will not find these days. When Michael Jordan was on the court, it was a poem and a thriller and you were gripped not just by the shots but also by the sheer charisma of what you witnessed. It is intangible, it is beyond statistics. How shall I explain this... Well, Michael Jordan would never have worn number 23 if say, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar had worn it. Hang on to that thought.
These ten episodes are some of the greatest television I have ever seen. The Last Dance is an affecting story, and a deeply profound one. "To have fear", says one of the talking heads, "is to project the past onto the future". "How can you fear a shot you have not yet taken?" the words that encapsulate the essence of Michael Jordan so well. That sentence may well be among the most profound things I have ever heard, and it does take me to those hot summers of late 90s when you shot it from all over the court, and you hit them and you missed them. And then you grew up and you thought better and you stopped.
