This is what happens when Anthony Edwards, a very talented young basketball player for the Minnesota Timberwolves, drives toward the basket. We, the basketball-watching public, collectively lost our minds.
We gasped. We stared blankly. We passed out. We scream. We jumped off the couch. We text our friends candidly. And then we call “names”—even though we know we really, probably shouldn’t do that.
“Man, that’s like…” (No, don’t say it.)
“You know, he reminds me of…” (Stop, please.)
“He even looks a bit like…” (Oh, for Naismith’s sake, here it comes.)
Michael Jordan! (sigh.)
The enthusiasm is certainly justified, and the comparison understandable. Edwards, as the guy whose name we can’t help but think of, is absolutely mind-blowing.He didn’t jump; I did explode.He doesn’t lift; I have soar. He doesn’t just dunk;He threw it with such speed, such force, such speed Violence One wonders what Basket did to offend him.
Did you see what Ant-Man did in Utah last week? He dunked so hard that he dislocated a finger and sent the nearest defender, John Collins, to the locker room for a concussion test. (Collins escaped with “a head contusion.”)
It’s not just the athleticism and dunks that are exciting. It’s smiles and strutting. It’s the gorgeous numbers (26.4 points, 5.5 rebounds, 5.2 assists per game) and the grace with which he creates them. It’s the footwork and body control, the acceleration and deceleration, the smooth turnaround jumper, the smooth finish at the rim – the artistry of it all. Sort of like the man who dominated the ’90s and is universally known as the greatest of all time.
That’s why famous NBA commentators will make such comparisons. Kevin Garnett, a recognized legend and impeccable authority on greatness, makes this comparison. Edwards’ former teammate Patrick Beverley made the comparison. Digitally savvy fans have posted extensive tributes on YouTube to prove this point. One person on Twitter posted a spliced image – half ant, half goat – to note the similarities in their faces.
We gasp and pass out because we have no physical choice. It’s instinctive and Pavlovian. Our brains make connections instantly. Shooting guard? Check. About 6’4″ to 6’6″ tall? Check. Jump high? Check.but we don’t have Call name. Frankly, we shouldn’t do this. Because we know what’s going on. We should have learned our lesson by now.
NBA fans and pundits have had a wonderful 25 years – since Jordan was still alive still at its peak— desperately searching for the “next Michael Jordan,” cheering for every young talent who jumps high, dunks hard, or wows us. They all failed, some more miserably than others.
Len Bias and Ron Harper earned the label in the late 1980s. Then there’s Harold Miner. Then there’s Richard Dumas. Then there’s Grant Hill. Then there’s Penny Hardaway. And then there’s Jerry Stackhouse. Then there’s Kobe Bryant. Then there’s Vince Carter. Even prep guys like Felipe López and Al Harrington were labeled that way. Then came the international competition: the “Jewish Jordan” (Tamir Goodman), the “Turkish Jordan” (Hedo Turkoglu) and the “French Jordan” (Mikael Pietrus). Next, of course, is LeBron James, who is a completely different player than Jordan, but whose fame, influence, and accolades are equal to Jordan’s in most ways.
For most of them, being stamped “Next” is more of a curse than an honor.
But in the 2010s, as James began to think of the Finals as his second home, something magical happened: The chatter finally stopped. The obsession with “the next Jordan” is gone. Perhaps it’s because the league is filled with dazzling talent, including James, Steph Curry and Kevin Durant, that it lessens the desire for Jordan clones. Maybe it’s because shooting guard is no longer that glamorous position. Maybe it’s because Jordan has finally been gone long enough for us to stop missing him — or his heirs. We no longer expect, guess and recklessly label. I wrote an entire article about it in 2017, “The Ghost of the Goat: Why There’s No More ‘Next Michael Jordan.'”
Former “Nexts” I interviewed at the time—from Bryant to Carter, Hill to Stackhouse—seemed to emphasize that the mania was over and that no one else would be saddled with such impossible expectations. “As cool as it might be, you don’t want it,” Carter told me at the time. “You’re like, no thanks. so many. “I just think it would be helpful for men to hear something like that more often.”
Stackhouse was more blunt: “As for comparisons to Michael Jordan, man, you all can go to hell.”
Or as former commissioner David Stern told me, “it’s a very healthy thing” for the world to move on. We did it. finally.
but…
“You know we’re watching the 1988-89 version of Michael Jordan,” ESPN’s Kendrick Perkins said of Edwards in January.
“He’s like a young Jordan in ’84,” Garnett said in an episode a few weeks later. all the smoke.
“Man, you have a chance to be Michael Jordan,” Beverley said on JJ Redick’s podcast, old man and three peoplerecounting an actual conversation he had with Edwards.
I can only cringe and sigh at this, with the anger of a middle-aged man who has seen this show too many times, and say again: Everybody, we don’t have to do this.
Granted, I see this from a personal perspective, having begun my NBA journey as a Lakers news writer in 1997, covering a young Bryant who alternately invited and shied away from comparisons to Jordan. He idolized and emulated Jordan, even adopting some of his mannerisms. He’s as close as he’ll ever get to Jordan in terms of style, skill and charisma. But the questions still bothered him.
“I don’t really care about it,” Bryant told me in 2017. “What you come to realize is that you all have different paths. So Michael’s path and responsibilities and his team are different than mine. … Being the ‘closest,’ I mean, what does that even mean? This It doesn’t make any sense to me.”
It’s been 26 years since Jordan last won a championship, and 21 years since his last jumper, especially in a Wizards uniform. Edwards was less than two years old when Jordan left for good. So maybe it’s worth reminding ourselves what he’s done beyond his six championships, six Finals MVPs, five regular season MVPs, 11 All-NBA selections and nine All-Defensive team selections.
Jordan won 10 scoring titles starting in his third NBA season, when he was 23 — not much older than Edwards, who turns 23 in August. Jordan averaged a staggering 37.1 points that year, in an era of hand checks, grinding defenses and crowded lanes, and without the help of three-pointers (he hit 12 threes all season).He averaged 32 points per game in 11 seasons, relying almost exclusively on two-pointers and free throws while also shooting 51% from out of town.
Jordan was so dominant as a rookie (of course, he was an experienced rookie at age 21 after three years at North Carolina) that he was sixth In the MVP voting, received two first-place votes. By the time he finished his fourth year (where Edwards is now), Jordan had already made three All-NBA teams (two first-team selections), a Defensive Player of the Year trophy and his first MVP award. He even won a few dunk titles just for fun.
Over the next few years, all Jordan did was dominate the league, start the greatest dynasty in modern sports, become a household name around the world, and revolutionize branding and marketing of athletes. “I want to be like Mike!” sing the kids in the Gatorade commercial—and so do all of us, regardless of age, height, race, or jumping ability.
Slogans and songs will eventually fade away, but wishes and fantasies will never. So decades later, we still find ourselves longing for another Mike.
To date, Edwards has yet to win any scoring titles, win All-NBA or All-Defensive Team honors, or receive a sixth MVP vote (though that could change this spring) . If putting Jordan’s resume on top of Edwards’ resume seems ridiculous, if you think that’s obnoxious or unfair, well… that’s exactly my point. It’s all these things. This is why this entire discussion is misguided.
None of this seemed to faze Edwards, who smiled shyly and hung his head when ESPN’s Malika Andrews brought up the Jordan comparison last month. “I mean, what would it look like if I were in denial about this?” Edwards said. “But I don’t want to be compared to someone of his caliber. I mean, I haven’t done anything on his level yet. But I love it. I’m glad they have confidence in me, that’s for sure. I mean Yes, they’re not wrong,” he said with a laugh.
Fox Sports’ Chris Broussard explained an exchange he had with Jordan, and last week, the GOAT himself weighed in, agreeing that “there are similarities in their games.”
It all seems harmless. But that’s not the case for many young prodigies who were labeled that way decades ago, such as former USC star Harold Miner, who was known as “Little Jordan” in high school. “Now you start to feel the pressure because you realize you’re a talented player,” Miner told ESPN.com in a recent feature. “But you’re not Michael Jordan.”
At the time, there was an understandable obsession with finding “the next one.” We had never seen anyone like Jordan before he arrived. He excites, delights, inspires, and always leaves us wanting more. He retired three times, and even after his final retirement in 2003, after a poor showing with the Washington Wizards, we still dreamed: “Maybe he’ll come back again.”
NBA needs Jordan, or a legitimate replica, not just because of his athleticism, but because of his charisma, his charisma, and his universal appeal as a champion and a pitcher. Now we’re approaching another crossroads, with James and Stephen Curry approaching the twilight of their careers, prompting another heated discussion about who deserves to be the new face of the league.
We say this is about “business” in the NBA, about the league needing a transcendent figure to keep the marketing machine humming. But really, it’s about us. It’s about our selfish needs as fans.We hope Jordan plays forever because he shaped us Feel. So we need a new Jordan, a next Jordan, a successor Jordan.
But that was never a fair standard — not for Bryant, Carter, Hill, Stackhouse or anyone else. Jordan wasn’t just a great jumper, dunker or scorer; he was a great shooter.He is a killer, a crazy worker, a leader, and a winner. Not only was he the greatest player of his era, greatest of all time. He has personality, charisma and a great smile.
Blindly looking for the next one is always doomed because no one else can check all those boxes. Some people can’t win. Some people cannot lead. Some people shy away from the spotlight. Some people lack motivation. Some people just can’t stay healthy.
so yes it English Ridiculous, it English It’s unfair to label a 22-year-old as Jordan-like, Jordan-like, or Jordan-like, no matter how good our intentions are. We begin to see players through another lens. We begin to expect, hope, predict. When a player performs poorly, we blame him for letting us down and label him a failure or disappointment.
Edwards might actually be up to the task. He had the talent, the showmanship, the confidence, the charisma, and most importantly, the drive for greatness. He could dominate the league for the next decade, collecting rings and MVP trophies along the way. But he doesn’t need to be like Mike, and we shouldn’t ask him to be. There is no heir, no next one. We don’t need another goat. We should enjoy ants.