"No, I’m Not That Michael Jordan ..." The Upside of Sharing a Famous Name

By Michael J. Jordan

SUMMIT, N.J. – On March 30th, 1982, I became an overnight sensation. Not for anything that I myself achieved. Heck, I was just 13 years old. Rather, because of the stunning feat of my namesake: Michael Jordan.

The night before, that Michael Jordan – then just a freshman phenom for the University of North Carolina – hit the game-winning shot in the national college basketball championship. At school the next day, it seemed like everyone had watched the game. Classmates went bananas with my name. They’d crumple up paper, shooting at the waste-basket: Michael Jorda-a-a-a-an!

I recently recalled this pivotal moment during an interview with the sports channel ESPN. While broadcasting a landmark, 10-part series on the basketball legend, The Last Dance, they thought it’d be cute to hunt down other Michael Jordans, to see if, somehow, sharing the same name affected our lives. The result was a special program: Being Michael Jordan. [You can watch it here.] It was a short feature, and I only had a tiny cameo, but I was delighted to be included. Turns out, I’m not the only one with stories to tell about how we’ve disappointed so many folks by not being “the real” Michael Jordan.

For example, I’ll never forget the time that my mother was on the phone with Air France, trying to arrange flights for a family trip. When she articulated my name, the French travel-agent responded: Le basketteur??? Mom had a good laugh at the foresight in naming her son. While I had several of MJ’s posters up on my wall – typically, capturing him in mid-flight – little did I know that that moment in 1982 would alter my life forever. Even 38 years later, my name gets a reaction. Around the world. Not that I’m complaining, mind you.

Over the years, as I’ve lived on four continents, and worked as a journalist in 30 different countries – I’ve come to appreciate how my name has been the greatest possible ice-breaker for conversations. After all, when meeting a stranger, especially in an alien land – there’s always a wall of suspicion. What better way to lower that wall than by making them smile? All I had to do to elicit that smile was introduce myself, stating my name clearly enough that they could grasp its familiarity.

It didn’t matter where I was, or whether I spoke the local language, or not. That’s how widely known he was. At the height of his powers, throughout the mid-1990s – just as I was breaking into my career as a freelance Foreign Correspondent, in post-Communist Eastern Europe – Jordan’s face and athleticism were plastered across the planet, as arguably the world’s most magnificent sportsman. I pondered the question: Who are the most widely-known people in the world? Known potentially by billions? Thanks largely to the dominance of American culture, here was my top five (in no particular order): then-US President Bill Clinton, the Pope, Madonna, Michael Jackson, Michael Jordan.

Though my namesake retired in 2003, his popularity has remained remarkably high. Bolstered by the global appeal of basketball itself, and that every up-and-coming great is compared with him (see: Kobe Bryant, LeBron James). He’s the standard-bearer for being the G.O.A.T. – the greatest of all time.

Again, no complaint from me, as it enables me to continue exploiting our shared name as a cross-cultural ice-breaker. The Chinese, for example, are a basketball-mad nation. Whenever I speak before an audience, I’ll open with a line like: Hi! I’m Michael Jordan … [Pause.] No, not THAT Michael Jordan. Sorry to disappoint you. Instead, I’m an American journalist who … And I’m on my way. OK, OK. It’s not hilarious. But it usually extracts a few chuckles. I’ll keep milking it, while I can.  Thank you, Michael Jordan, for bestowing upon me the greatest self-marketing tool possible. For free.