Is it just me or does Fran Blinebury transform his Hakeem ass kissing to Yao Ming? Feb. 10, 2003, 1:03AM From Air to Yao, history's hard to script By FRAN BLINEBURY Copyright 2003 Houston Chronicle ATLANTA -- History can't be planned. It just happens. Who knew in 1984, when Michael Jordan entered the NBA, that he eventually would come to rule the basketball world? And who could have foreseen how small that world would become? On the night when Jordan allegedly made his final appearance in the NBA All-Star Game as the center of an elaborately orchestrated tribute ceremony, the most populous nation on the globe officially joined the party. When Yao Ming gathered in a lob pass from Rockets teammate Steve Francis with just more than a minute gone in the first quarter and rammed it home, maybe it was just one drop of water in a slam-dunking flood. Or, as the marketing slogan goes, it could again have been the start of something big. Yao played 17 minutes, by far the fewest of the Western Conference starters. Yet this was a rousing success because of the time he spent being dunked into the tank of celebrity, getting used to the spotlight and rubbing elbows and exchanging small talk with those he recently admired from across an ocean and with whom he is now a peer. History comes in layers, with texture, and there is no way to force it or plot its course. Everything about this weekend was supposed to be about Jordan, from squeezing Mariah Carey into those sausage-casing clothes to squeezing out the last ounce of his legend. After days of public pressure for leading vote-getter Vince Carter to give up his spot to the soon-to-be 40-year-old who is retiring for the third time and says this time it's for good, Jordan took the floor with the Eastern Conference starters and tried to ride the wave of emotion. He shot a jumper and missed. He shot again and missed. And again and again. Short shots and long shots. Layups and even a dunk. Jordan was 0-for-7 before he converted a feed from Jason Kidd for a layup. By that time Yao had finished his offensive output for the night -- one shot, one basket, two points -- and was simply floating around lost in the freewheeling style of the game like a cork bobbing on the waves. Maybe there will come a time more than a decade from now when Yao is a true basketball icon like Jordan and not merely a 7-5 novelty so full of promise and potential. If and when that happens, there probably will be another young kid from someplace, anyplace we didn't expect, ready to carry the torch for the next generation. Will Yao win six championships like Jordan? Will he carve out a similar niche with a pair of three-peats? Will he have all those MVP trophies on his mantel? All of those places with his name written in the record book? Only time will tell, as it usually does. How many players over the years have been labeled "the next Jordan" and somehow not measured up? We can never tell where the next one is coming from, and that is part of the charm, the exhilaration of watching sports. "I leave the game in good hands," Jordan said. "So many great stars still in the game, so many great stars rising and playing the game. "I have passed on things that Dr. J (Julius Erving) and some of the great players -- Magic Johnson, Larry Bird -- have passed on to me. I pass it on to these All-Stars here, as well as the rest of the players in the NBA." History unfolds one page at a time, and it often is silly to predict what will happen in the next chapter. Everybody wanted this to be Jordan's night, his last bow in the All-Star spotlight. He passed Kareem Abdul-Jabbar to become the all-time leading scorer in the event. But only once did he really recapture the magic. It was at the end of the first overtime, with 4.8 seconds left, when Jordan went to the right baseline, elevated for a turnaround jumper over the outstretched arm of Shawn Marion, and buried a 15-footer before falling into the first row of seats. It could have been the game-winner, another piece of the legend. It should have been the game-winner. But Kobe Bryant was fouled while heaving up a desperate trey and made two of three free throws to force a second overtime. Yao was on the West bench, craning his neck to see Jordan's dramatic shot, shaking his head in amazement, then applauding. "It didn't feel like an All-Star Game," Yao said. "It felt like there was only one star, and that was Michael Jordan." Yet Jordan took 27 shots and made only nine, proving you can give everything a retro theme -- from the outfits on the dancers to the musical acts that play during the breaks -- but you can never really turn back the clock. There was no Air Jordan when he entered the league as a rookie, and they had certainly never heard of him in China. But 10 years later, he'd become the most recognized figure on the planet. An American visitor to Beijing was even stopped on the street and asked, "Can you tell me anything about Michael Jordan and the Team of the Red Oxen?" A short time later, NBA TV feeds were sent into China. That is where Yao saw his first NBA series, the Rockets beating Orlando for the 1995 title, and found a big-man idol in Hakeem Olajuwon. Now dozens of Rockets games featuring Yao are broadcast live in China to a nation that wants to follow its own icon into the 21st century as a sport and a world grow smaller and closer. A finish for MJ. A start for Yao. History is not in the script, but in the making.
