Flu Game Shame

I just finished watching “The Last Dance” on Netflix. For those of you who are unfamiliar, it’s the story of Michael Jordan’s career and the intertwined story of the Chicago Bulls’ twin three-peats. I must say, it doesn’t matter if you’re a sports fan or not – it is riveting television.

Along with Tiger King, it comes with my highest Netflix recommendation.

I remember the three-peats, but I was unaware of a very important fact that came to my attention in episode nine of the documentary – a fact that brings utter shame on the entire state of Utah.

It happened before the fifth game of the 1997 NBA Finals against the Utah Jazz. The game was in Utah and the series was tied 2-2, and in a best-of-seven series, game five is huge.

Game five went down in the history books as “The Flu Game,” because Jordan was sick as a dog the night before, in bed all day before the game getting fluids through an IV, and looked like the walking dead when he went out onto the court.

I remember the flu game, but I did not know the real story. The story that casts a shadow of ignominy (Greek for “you suck”) over the entire beehive state.

Jordan and the Bulls were staying at the Marriott in Park City. It was 10:00 the night before game five. Jordan was in his hotel room hanging out with his bodyguards and his personal trainer. He was hungry and they were trying to find him some food.

The hotel’s room service was already closed, and no restaurants were open except for one pizza place that finally answered the phone. Jordan’s trainer ordered the pizza and a little while later five guys showed up to deliver it, all trying to get a peek inside the room.

The trainer paid for the pizza at the door and brought it into the room, but didn’t have a good feeling about the whole situation. When was the last time five pizza delivery guys brought you your large thin-crust peperoni? That is a full four more pizza guys than the industry standard single pizza guy.

Jordan’s trainer told the room about the group delivery and expressed his concerns, warning against touching the pizza for fear of foul play. It was obvious the pizza guys knew the food was going to the Bulls, and maybe they even knew it was going to Jordan himself. Michael was hungry enough that he said screw it and ate the whole pizza himself.

Four hours later, Jordan was hurling his guts out in the hotel bathroom.

Flu my ass.

But let’s just forget about the pizza for a minute. Here’s the thing, Utah – Jordan scored 38 points that night and even had the clutch three-pointer with 30 seconds left in the game to put it away. He beat you guys with the “flu.” That was impressive enough at the time when we all thought it was the actual flu, and served to show that you guys, as a basketball team, never really had a chance.

Now, not being able to beat the Bulls in the ‘90s is nothing to be ashamed of as a basketball team, but let’s face it – if you can’t even do it when Jordan is near death, that should tell you something.

Now let’s get back to the pizza and the tarnish of shame it brings upon your entire ridiculously straight-bordered state.

First Pizza Scenario: Assuming the pizza was purposely tainted in an attempt to disable one or more of the Bulls players, that means you had residents of Utah who had zero confidence in your ability to win a championship on your own. Nice fan base, losers. Shame on you.

Second Pizza Scenario: Assuming the food poisoning was accidental and the pizza was not purposely tainted, that means you have a state that can’t even make a pizza right. The city of Chicago beats the entire state of Utah in basketball and pizza. Shame on you.

Overriding Utah Food Scenario: You suck at food service in general. You have a state with major hotels that shut down room service before 10:00. Seriously? And your restaurants can’t muster the strength to stay open much past sunset either, huh? What a fun place to visit! Congratulations on being the lamest state anyone has ever heard of. Shame, shame, big, fat food service shame on you. Gordon Ramsay will be flying in soon to yell at you. Try not to faint from all the strong language.

I’m not even mad about the Jordan pizza thing. You got what you deserved with that one. I’m mad that if I visit your pretend state, apparently I won’t be able to get a cheeseburger at 11:00 at night.

Get it together, Utah. That is just sad.

And shameful.

See you soon (not you, Utah),

-Smidge

 

Copyright © 2020 Marc Schmatjen

 

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Thank You, Joe Wong

A really great man passed away on Friday due to a massive heart attack. I was fortunate enough to get to know Joe Wong a little when I coached his son, John, in baseball on several different teams over the years.

Before I ever met Joe, I knew he was an exceptional man and father just from meeting his son for the first time. John is one of those kids that, as a coach, you dream about having on your team. He was at the top of my draft list every season, but all too often he was snatched up ahead of me by another coach who knew his value like I did.

In terms of talent, by definition, ninety percent of baseball players aren’t in the top ten percent. (I did that math all by myself.) I wasn’t trying to draft John every year because he was a top ten percenter, talent-wise. He was always right there with my sons, solidly in the middle of the ninety percent.

He is, however, in the top one percent of athletes as far as being a teammate. John simply makes the team better just by being there. He is a good player, but his biggest value to the team is his ability to positively affect morale.

John just makes you happy. He makes you want to have fun. He is always smiling. He makes you want to race each other. He makes you want to compete, for the fun of it. He is always happy to be there. He makes you want to win together. He always brought gum. He just makes the team better.

John contributed standardly to the success of our teams on the field, but he contributed immeasurably in the dugout. I knew John got those attributes from his parents, and it was very easy to see those same qualities in Joe whenever you spoke with him. It became abundantly clear what a powerful influence Joe was, however, when I read a tweet about his passing from a professional basketball player.

Joe was a hard-working man, and he held down more than one job to take care of his wonderful family. Among other things, he was on the security team at the Golden 1 Center, where the Sacramento Kings play.

Kings center and power forward Harry Giles III tweeted his reaction the other day to the news of Joe’s death.

My heart is heavy! Joe Wong! I’ll never forget you my man! You were one of the nicest people I’ve ever met! Your attitude never changed! You showed me how to show up every day for work and regardless of what’s going on... always be happy! On some of my worst games you were always so uplifting and positive! Going to miss you having mango Hi-Chews and green Jolly Ranchers for me when I came in G1C or asking if my mom was coming to the game. Wish I could do it all one more time and hug you. Going to miss you so much. Thank you for everything!

Is it any wonder that John became the stellar teammate he is with a dad like Joe? I mean, how amazing is that statement from Giles?

Harry Giles wasn’t coached by Joe. Joe wasn’t one of his teammates. He wasn’t one of his trainers. Joe never got the chance to address the team and talk with them about their mental performance.

The Kings players only saw Joe in passing when they entered and exited the arena, but his positive demeanor and attitude about life had such a profound impact on them that a professional athlete credits Joe with teaching him how to show up to his own job with joy, what an authentically positive attitude can do, how to bounce back from disappointments, and what truly caring about others looks like.

Some of the highest paid coaches in the NBA don’t have the ability to positively impact their players the way the man guarding the door was able to impact Harry Giles, and very likely, the majority of the rest of the Kings players and staff as well.

Joe knew, probably better than anyone I’ve ever known, that being a teammate means so much more than what you do during a game, and that you can be an invaluable asset to the team without ever having set foot between the lines.

I have no doubt that John will follow in his dad’s footsteps and continue to be that beacon of light for others to look toward, and I’m looking forward to seeing it happen.

I only wish Joe could have been around a little longer to model it some more for his kids, and for the rest of us.

Rest in peace, Joe. You were the real deal. Thanks for showing us the way.

-Smidge

Copyright © 2020 Marc Schmatjen

Check out The Smidge Page on Facebook. We like you, now like us back!

Also visit Marc’s Amazon.com Author Page  for all his books. Enjoy!