I’ll spare you the tributes to your greatness. Let’s just say you’ve earned the right to play golf every day for the rest of your life. You’ve earned the right to gamble whenever you want without having to answer to anybody, except perhaps your wife. You’ve certainly earned the right to ignore people like me trying to give you advice. As you made clear–repeatedly–during your press conference, you wouldn’t lose any sleep if the entire press corps fouled out forever. Given what some (not most) reporters inflicted upon you during that excruciating period when your father was missing–throwing mud at a dead man without any evidence–those feelings of resentment are understandable.
But after you get into that routine of mornings on the back nine. after you handle your endorsements and investments and spend more time with your family and friends, that still leaves a lot of empty space. You’re a creative, energetic, extremely competitive person. You’ve structured the first 30 years of your life around a series of challenges. What will the next one be?
You could make a comeback, of course. But that great fear of yours–that someone might say you’ve lost a step–would inevitably become real. You could buy a team, but then you might as well be on the court protecting your investment. It has to be something much bigger and more important–a cause that can salvage some shred of hope from your father’s death.
That cause–and your new calling could be gun violence in America. You said you lack “motivation” for pro basketball. But you have all the motivation you need to fight violence. Amid your grief, you might want to avoid the subject right now. But it is the natural path for you. Fate has offered you a chance to be not just a celebrity, but a leader: to change not just your life, but the life of the next generation.
With most other superstars, there wouldn’t really be any point in such ponderous talk. They do the usual charity drill, but it’s not deeply important to them. You’re different. You’re a large enough figure to have true influence, and long before your father was killed, you showed that you actually care. For years, after every home game, you’ve stopped your car under a lamppost a few bleak blocks from Chicago Stadium just to talk to four kids from the neighborhood. You see how they’re doing, check their report cards. Until a bystander tipped the press, nobody knew. There are scores of other kids you’ve secretly helped.
On the day you retired, amid all the coverage in the Chicago Tribune, you may have noticed a smaller headline. It read, SHOTS FIRED FROM PASSING CAR END THE LIFE OF “LOVELY GIRL.” She was the 54th child killed by gunfire in Chicago this year. You know, more personally than most, exactly how her family feels. It’s a fair assumption that if there’s any way for you to help measurably reduce violence, you’ll try.
The emphasis for you is on that word “measurably.” Public-service announcements are fine, and you’ll probably do a few. But all of your friends say that the key to understanding you is that you must always measure yourself against standards by Ahich you can judge your success or failure. That means thinking a little differently about how best to use your stature.
Mothers-in-law are supposed to be a headache, but mine had a brainstorm recently. Molly Lazar, who works with foster-care kids in Chicago, calls it “Handshakes for Handguns.” Millions of people would love to meet you, and tens of thousands might part with something of value to do so. First, they would go through a room where they’d deposit a handgun, no questions asked; then through a metal detector to make sure they complete their half of the bargain; then they get to shake your hand and exchange a few words. Let’s say you met 200 people an afternoon. If you did this twice a week for a year, you could take 20,000 guns off the streets of Chicago. The baddest guys wouldn’t show, of course. And law-abiding fans would complain about gun owners getting preference. But ask anyone in law enforcement: 20,000 fewer handguns on the streets of Chicago would save many lives.
Maybe you would want to stand in that receiving line only once a month. That’s still thousands fewer guns in circulation, guns that might not get used to kill a “lovely girl” or a man sleeping in his car by the side of the road. If you persuade other stars in other cities to try the same idea, you could really rack up some impressive statistics.
You’ve tried to stay out of politics, but look at Sarah Brady, whose husband was shot during the 1981 assassination attempt on President Reagan. Her leadership is about to culminate in legislation, which is certainly a measurable result. You could join her, or–if gun control doesn’t grab you–start your own crusade for mandatory sentencing of violent offenders, boot camps, whatever. You could be a major legislative player overnight, and without the scrutiny that comes with running for office.
There are plenty of other ideas around, from adopting schools (test scores can be seen as new records to break) to sponsoring youth groups that keep kids out of gangs. Each of these ideas does require that you continue dealing with the media, though at a lower level of intrusiveness. But even that might simply pose another new challenge to penetrate the press as you penetrate a defense, to exploit its weaknesses in pursuit of your larger goal of bringing violent crime to where it belongs in our consciousness.
You’ve given us more joy than we had any reason to expect. Now, presented with that rarest of opportunities to truly make a difference, please give us more life.
