FW: [Celtics' Stuff Bret and Bart Maverick

[JB <jbmetzea@yahoo.com>]

----------
From: JB <JBMetzEA@Yahoo.com>
Reply-To: Celticsstuffgroup@yahoogroups.com
Date: Mon, 29 Oct 2001 07:29:01 -0500
To: <Celticsstuffgroup@yahoogroups.com>
Subject: Re: [Celtics' Stuff Bret and Bart Maverick




Michael Jordan, black suit, cigar in mouth and drink in hand, sits at a
reserved facedown blackjack table. He sits under a fake starlit sky provided
by a dome above Wombi Rock, a towering bar adjacent to the high stakes
section. 

He is on the end, to the right of the dealer, the most important seat at the
table. And he is focused.

Jordan leans back in his chair with those lucky enough to earn an invitation
beyond the red rope. He slouches and peeks at his cards while debating to
hit or stand. With each puff, the cigar smoke rolls across his face, leaving
Jordan's demeanor a mystery for short moments at a time.

But it's no mystery that he is in charge. This is Jordan's arena, the other
place where he refuses to lose.

MIKE ANTHONY, COURANT STAFF WRITER

      **************
  Steve, this is a fascinating article. No Damon Runyan,  though, Mr.
Anthony has given us a glimpse of the high life, as lived by Mr. Jordan.
  Although, I am sick to death of the concept of: Michael Jordan, and oh by
the way, there was a basketball game played last night, this article brought
me back a bit. 
  My first impression was of one of our favorite movies: "The Hustler." No
doubt Jordan is Fats and Walker is the punk ; "Fast Eddie." Jordan's
demeanor; poised, with constant trips to the men's room to freshen up,
contrasted with an excited Antoine, arms flailing, reminded me of that
climactic scene with a disheveled, drunk, "Fast Eddie;" slouched over the
table, totally spent, after losing  his big early lead, while a clean and
composed;  "Fats" counted his winnings.  "You're a loser Eddie, you'll
always be a loser!" was Fats' parting shot.
  The next impression, was how good for the game and these young men was it,
that their idol was taking them through these scenes, where $500,000 to
$800,000 could be won or lost in a single night.  How long will it be before
one of the young men, loses his money and his soul, over a blackjack table
and starts shaving points?
  A final thought, weaving through my troubled brow, over the morality and
dangers inherent in this life style Jordan relishes, was the concept of Babe
Ruth: "The Sultan of Swat." A gargantuan, debauched, presence. His off field
exploits, as much as his baseball heroics,  lifting America, vicariously,
through the dark days of the depression.
                 

                  JB

                   

                   
Unchain My Heart! 


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