Five minutes into Michael Jordan’s Hall-of-Fame induction speech in Springfield, Mass., he said “I shocked the shit out of him” in reference to David Thompson’s reaction when the former North Carolina State star was asked to be his sponsor.

What? Did Jordan just say “shit” on national television? Wow. What a way to bust through the doors of basketball immortality. And the worst part about it, the audience thought it was hilarious. Jordan would have been better served had he just say “thanks” after tears began to flow before he spoke. But he didn’t. Though part of his speech was candid and heartfelt, a big part of it lacked humility and was very smug.

Michael Jordan, worshiped by the basketball world as the God of the Game and valedictorian of this year’s Hall-of-Fame class, showed very little class in an event that was supposed to highlight the greatness of the sport. The fact that most found his comment to be entertaining just shows the man crush we as a sports community have for Jordan, especially the local and national media.

The bro-mance between Jordan the media is worse than any reality TV show. ESPN’s Stuart Scott gushes over him. Sportswriter and PTI host Michael Wilbon worships the hardwood he walks on. And TNT/NBA TV’s Ahmad Rashad is practically Jordan’s BFF.

Michael Jordan smoked the competition during his 15-year NBA career, and he's not afraid to tell about it.

When Jordan says “jump,” we say “how high?” When Jordan says “bark like a dog,” we say “whoof! whoof!”

It just shows the incredible adulation and undying support we shower Jordan just because he’s Michael Jordan. He’s our generation’s Babe Ruth. He’s the greatest basketball player who ever lived. He’s Sho ‘Nuff, the shogun of Harlem. Bow and kiss his Nike!

It didn’t matter that Jordan had plenty of indiscretions. Because he can play above the rim, most have afforded him an above-the-law platinum card. His loyal followers  look the other way whenever his character is questioned, ignoring his gambling problem, his infidelities and his bullish ways.

He certainly displayed that lack of regard throughout his induction speech.

He made fun of Jeff Van Gundy, calling him “the little guy” on Pat Riley’s coaching staff, brushed off Magic Johnson and Isiah Thomas for the so-called “freeze out” during the 1985 All-Star Game (talk about holding a grudge), called out former Utah Jazz guard Bryon Russell, and basically threw his former GM Jerry Krause under the buss.

Jordan reopened a decade-long wound by remembering Krause’s infamous “organizations win championships, not players” statement. Jordan’s response to that was: organizations did not play sick in Game 5 vs. the Jazz in 1997, organizations did not play through a bum ankle vs. the Celtics in 1986, and organizations did not hit game-winning shots in the NBA Finals.

Basically, Jordan gave the big middle finger to the man who helped him win six NBA titles and the architect of building the Chicago Bulls Dynasty with his acquisitions of Scottie Pippen, Horace Grant, Ron Harper, Steve Kerr, Dennis Rodman, Toni Kukoc, and the hiring of coach Phil Jackson.

I guess Air Jordan didn’t mind airing his dirty laundry in front of the world, and forgot all the good things Krause did for the “organization.”

C’mon, Mike. We all know how good you are. You don’t have to rub it in our faces.

Jordan mentioned his children but wasn’t exactly poignant in his delivery. He mentioned how much tickets at the Hall of Fame Gala have gone up to $1,000, showing Jordan’s disdain for throwing money around – unless it’s on the golf course or at the casino table.

Jordan tries to portray himself as a family man but his home life is not exactly picture perfect. A colleague once told me that Jordan’s alleged extramarital relations puts Magic Johnson’s rumored sexcapades to shame. Jordan mentioned his ex-wife, Juanita, who was noticeably absent from the festivities, but failed to recognize his gal pal Yvette Prieto, who sat next to him on the front row. Somewhere out there, Karla Knafel is also fuming.

On a night that was supposed to celebrate the game of basketball, Jordan found a way to muck it up, sticking his tongue out and showing the ugly side of his personality.

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There is no doubt that John Stockton is a Hall-of-Fame player. But was he the best point guard ever? That is debatable.

If you based everything on regular statistics, then Stockton has to be at the top of list because he retired with the most assists (15,806) and steals (3,265) in NBA history.

However, playoff performances are the barometer for true greatness. When you include that in the debate, then Stockton would take a backseat to Magic Johnson, Isiah Thomas and Oscar Robertson. Johnson won five NBA championships with the L.A. Lakers, Thomas won two with the Detroit Pistons and The Big O won a title late in his career with the Milwaukee Bucks. Stockton was 0-2 in the NBA Finals with the Utah Jazz.

The only thing missing in the Hall-of-Fame basketball career of Utah Jazz point guard John Stockton is an NBA championship ring.

Stockton had an opportunity to put his imprint in the game of basketball, but was unable to seize the moment. He struggled to break loose from Ron Harper, whose 6-foot-6 frame really bothered the 6-0 Stockton during the 1997 Finals and the ’98 Finals. In fact, the length of the Bulls squad bothered Stockton, period. All those bounce passes off pick-and-rolls with basketball BFF Karl Malone were snuffed by the Michael Jordan, Scottie Pippen and Harper.

And in the waning moments of the ’98 Finals, Stockton had a chance to upstage Jordan when the Jazz had the final possession after Jordan hit his famous push-off jumper over Byron Russell at the top of the key. But Stockton missed at the buzzer, and Jordan lifted six fingers in the air to celebrate the Bulls’ six dynastic titles during the 1990s.

That pretty much will be the overwhelming sentiment and the harsh reality Stockton will face for the rest of his life. It is the same cruel fate dealt to NBA greats such as Malone, Charles Barkley, Patrick Ewing, Reggie Miller, Dominique Wilkins and George Gervin.

Stockton will always have that big void in his resume. It’s the “Dan Marino Syndrome.” Marino owned all those NFL passing records but was never considered the best of the all time because he was never part of a Super Bowl championship team. Joe Montana is considered by many as the best of all time because he won four Super Bowls during his career.

The fact of the matter is, the number of championships won is the ultimate tie-breaker when it comes to best-in-the-biz arguments. It’s the reason why we rank Jordan ahead of Magic, Magic ahead of Larry Bird, and why the NBA Finals most valuable player is named after 11-time champion Bill Russell instead of six-time champ Kareem Abdul-Jabbar and two-time champ Wilt Chamberlain.

Those two losses in the NBA Finals will unfortunately define Stockton’s legacy.

Noteworthy

When the original Dream Team was being assemble to compete in the 1992 Barcelona Olympics, the selection committee chose Stockton over Thomas. It wasn’t Stockton’s fault that he was picked to be Magic Johnson’s backup, but the very political deliberation didn’t sit well with Thomas.

During a regular season game between Detroit and Utah in 1992, Thomas lit up Stockton for 40 points in a very one-sided matchup. Now, it probably mattered very little since Jordan and Pippen privately put the word out to the USA Basketball committee that they refuse to play with a Motor City Bad Boy such as Thomas, forcing the committee to play it safe and opting for Stockton.

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David Robinson will be inducted into the Naismith Basketball Hall of Fame on Sept. 11.

David Robinson will go down in basketball lore as one of the greatest to ever play the game. As validation, he will be enshrined in the Naismith Basketball Hall of Fame in Springfield, Mass., later this month as part of one of the best Hall of Fame classes in recent memory, a class that includes Michael Jordan and John Stockton.

His resume stands out like a 7-foot-1 Ensign in the United States Naval Academy: two-time NBA world champion, won MVP in 1995, Defensive Player of the Year in 1992, Rookie of the Year in 1990, four-time NBA first-team selection, Olympic gold medalist in 1992, 10-time All-Star and selected one of the 50 greatest players in NBA history. He also scored 71 points against the Los Angeles Clippers in the final regular-season game in 1994 to win the scoring title.

It is hard to compare Robinson to anyone in the league because he was unique. He was a chiseled 7-footer with zero body fat who could run the floor like a guard. He could post up, face up and shoot, and defense was stout. His quickness and length made it extremely hard on the opposition to score on him. He had some great battles with fellow Hall-of-Famer centers Hakeem Olajuwon and Patrick Ewing throughout the 1990s.

David Robinson proudly wears a Manu Ginobili jersey during a San Antonio Spurs game.

Aside from being a great player, Robinson was also selfless. When the San Antonio Spurs selected Tim Duncan with the first pick in the 1997 NBA draft, Robinson accepted the role of secondary player and allowed Duncan to grow into his role as the focal point of the Spurs’ franchise. With Robinson manning the center spot and Duncan providing plenty of power at the forward position, the Spurs won NBA titles in 1999 and 2003.

Despite all of his accomplishments on the court, the man known as The Admiral has had a bigger impact off the court.

Robinson’s legacy includes being one of the preeminent philanthropists in all of professional sports. On March 23, 2003, NBA Commissioner David Stern announced that future winners of the NBA Community Assist Award would receive the David Robinson Plaque, with the inscription, “Following the standard set by NBA Legend David Robinson, who improved the community piece by piece.”

Among Robinson’s charitable achievements was his $9 million commitment toward the construction and operation of The Carver Academy, an independent school for San Antonio students from a culturally diverse community. Receiving a good education was a big part of Robinson’s life, and that was never muddled even when he was earning millions as a pro athlete. Though sports afforded him a lifestyle most would envy, Robinson was always preaching school work and going to class.

He was a stand-up guy and one of the real “nice guys,” not just in basketball but in all of sports. But it also gave the impression that Robinson was too soft. Radio shock-jock Jim Rome once called him “The Little Mermaid,” mocking Robinson’s affinity for the Disney movie. Sports Illustrated tabbed him “Saint David” for being too good to be true.

But it’s true. David Robinson was a saint. He was also a class act.

I had an opportunity to meet Robinson two years ago at Staples Center  in Los Angeles. The Lakers had just defeated the San Antonio Spurs, the only team Robinson played for during his 14-year career. As I was walking out of the arena, I saw Robinson and his son headed in the same direction. For a man who had been retired for four years, The Admiral looked like he could still beat half the centers in the league. He was in phenomenal shape.

I approached him and said, “I think we just got a preview of the Western Conference finals.” Robinson replied: “You guys got a good team.” Then, as we crossed Figueroa Street en route to the parking structures, a group of people began harassing Robinson for autographs and pictures. He didn’t turn down a single one.

As he got close to his ride, I told Robinson “good luck with everything.” He then shook my hand and said, “Nice to meet you.” Now, it wasn’t much but a handshake from The Great David Robinson goes a long way in my book.

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