Champion Creed
Chapter 77 - 77 056 Michael_3 No Longer Revolves Around the World

77: 056: Michael_3 No Longer Revolves Around the World 77: 056: Michael_3 No Longer Revolves Around the World Soon, he would be able to personally eliminate that jerk in the playoffs!

The day after Roger ended his rookie season regular games, the great Michael Jordan also finished his first season in baseball.

The Southern League, where Jordan played, was a Double-A level league, only equivalent to the third tier of professional baseball in the United States.

Even though the Southern League’s stadiums were in disrepair, with only four cameras covering the entire field, at least fans could still catch sight of Michael Jordan.

Under such high scrutiny, in such a minor league, Jordan’s first year of baseball statistics were quite ideal.

His batting average was 20.2%, third from last on the team.

His on-base percentage was 28.9%, fourth from last.

His slugging percentage was 26.6%, second from last.

His offensive index was 55.6%, also second from last.

Look, although all his stats were below the league average, at least none of them was the last on the team, which was enough to prove his formidable strength.

Even the local fans were full of confidence in him.

Michael’s dedication was admirable.

He practiced extra before and after games.

Despite his low starting point, his serious training impressed everyone.

At this rate, in three years, no, just two years, Michael might even make it to the major leagues to watch the water coolers!

The media even wrote article after article celebrating this magnificent season of Jordan’s.

Michael has a dream of playing in the MLB, well, he might as well keep dreaming.

— “Sports Illustrated”

Considering he’s already 31 years old, if his name were not Michael Jordan, he probably couldn’t survive in Double-A.

— “Chicago Sun-Times”

Pack up and go home, you’re too embarrassing on the baseball field.

— “The Washington Post”

Michael Jordan sat in the back seat of a luxury car, legs crossed, reading the newspapers and magazines.

You cannot imagine how terrible this man, accustomed to victory, felt at that moment.

He had stood on the victory podium for too long; for him, any loss was a disgrace.

But on the baseball field, he was almost humiliated every game.

Jordan continued flipping through the magazines, turning to news related to basketball.

“57 wins!

Without Michael Jordan, the Bulls have reached the same record as last season!

Roger averaging 24.2 points, 1.1 assists, 3.6 rebounds, and only 1.1 turnovers per game.

His scoring ranked 7th in the league this season, with only superstars ahead of him.

Rookie of the Year was practically in Roger’s pocket!”

“At least in terms of the regular season, Roger perfectly replaced Michael.

Considering the tough adjustments Roger and Scott had to make, yet still managing to win 57 games, his actual performance was even better than it seemed.”

“Let me tell you something you might not know.

Since the 1980s, Roger has the highest scoring average among rookies, except for Jordan.

But Michael was already 21 when he played in the NBA.

What scoring stats could a 21-year-old Roger achieve?

Maybe a 21-year-old could surpass one of the same age, Michael?”

“There’s a reason to expect the 18-year-old Roger, who led his team to 12 consecutive wins, to have a breakout performance in the playoffs.

It’s time to show people what playoff reality is.”

The very kid he detested the most had become the hero of Chicago, while he was viewed as a sewer rat that everyone wanted to bash.

The great disparity made Jordan clench his fists, nearly tearing the magazines and newspapers in his hands to shreds.

At that moment, Jordan lost the sense of superiority he had built in the summer of ’92 when he felt like he had the whole world revolving around him.

For the first time since his retirement, he missed basketball so much.

He remembered the victories he had easily secured, the elegantly accurate jump shots, the spotlight that belonged only to him.

He wanted the world to revolve around him again.

And he knew exactly how to do it.

If he returned to basketball, he could have it all again.

With that thought, Jordan chuckled almost maniacally, like the villain in a horror movie studying human centipedes:

“Tim, look, these people are simply crazy.

They’ve imagined a damned kid as the hero of this city.

Does the regular season record really blind the eyes of Chicago fans, making them think Roger and Scott’s 57 wins mean this Bulls team is the same as last season’s?

No, when the playoffs start, even just the first round, they’ll realize how damned much Chicago needs me.”

“Do you think they still need me, Tim?”

Tim Grover didn’t respond, but he could feel Michael Jordan was getting closer and closer to making a decision.

As for how close, that entirely depended on Roger.

If that kid really led a Jordan-less Bulls to defeat the formidable Knicks and win the Eastern championship, perhaps it would provoke Michael into making an immediate decision.

But then again, if that day came, would Jordan be willing to be teammates with Roger, the person he despised?

Grover didn’t ponder further, that wasn’t for him to consider.

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