A Jordan calendar in Beijing testifies to the NBA star's global appeal. Stephen Shaver--AFP

He was exhausted after Game 7 of last season's semifinal matchup against the Indiana Pacers. But his friends on the team noticed that when the final game was over, he seemed almost giddy as he raced back to the locker room, like a joyous schoolboy liberated from class after the last day of school. He was equally gleeful on the first flight out to Salt Lake City to begin the National Basketball Association's final series--surprising for a player who was supposed to be old and tired and about to face a team, the Utah Jazz, that was rested and that held the home-court advantage. Some thought his odd boyishness came from the fact that he knew the Bulls had just barely dodged a bullet against the Pacers, that by the third game, as Indiana coach Larry Bird began to make adjustments, the matchups--particularly in the second half of the games--had begun to favor the younger, deeper Pacers. In particular, Bird was throwing younger, bigger guards at Jordan, and they were arriving well-rested at a time in the game when Jordan normally liked to take over the floor and when his defensive opponent was usually tired.

In Game 7, with about six minutes left, it appeared for a moment that the Bulls were going to lose: they seemed tired, Jordan palpably weary, bent over, hands on hips when others were shooting fouls, one of his telltale signs of fatigue. Then, in one of those remarkable demonstrations of willpower that have become the signature of his entire career, Jordan's compulsion to excel energized his body, and he summoned just enough strength to continue to drive to the basket, get to the foul line, or draw a crowd and pass off to teammates for open shots. That allowed him and his colleagues to escape the Pacer bullet. He was still the invincible man. Now at age 35, when younger players should begin supplanting him and his teammates as champions, he was once again going to the finals.

The boyishness on the plane was a signal that he did not fear Utah, even if the well-rested Jazz were playing at home at an altitude of some 1,400 m and were on a roll after inhaling the seemingly mighty Los Angeles Lakers. In truth, they were not that much younger, and what he saw were the matchups: their significantly smaller guards going against him, Pippen, Ron Harper and even Toni Kukoc. He clearly liked these pairings, much more than he had liked what Bird was able to throw at him. He remained upbeat even after the Bulls lost Game 1 to the Jazz in overtime.

In Game 2 they began the process of dismantling Utah, and they did it with their defense. Defensive artistry and intelligence have been the keys to this Chicago team for several years. In big-time, highly contested games, the Bulls have always begun by taking away what their opponents want to do; by playing brilliant, aggressive defense and then, when their opponents flounder because what worked all season no longer works, slowly and systematically exerting their will. Thus their big games were rarely shoot-outs. Nor were they always artistic, or if they were, it was only for those fans who loved seeing skilled, highly intelligent players stealing another team's game in front of a national audience. In these big games, even when Jordan and Pippen were not shooting well, they would forgo their jump shots, drive to the basket, and at the very least shoot fouls and slowly take over the tempo of the game. They knew how to grind down other teams when they did not have all of their game.

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