Chapter Nineteen: Forming a Team to Challenge Jordan—Orlando Goes Mad!
After effortlessly securing three consecutive victories, the entire Bulls team boarded a flight to the Southeast Division, embarking on the first wave of their new season’s road trip.
Their first opponent was none other than the team the Bulls despised above all others—
The Orlando Magic!
They were the ones who handed Jordan his only series loss since his championship in ’91.
Though almost everyone claimed that the Magic hadn’t defeated the “real” Jordan, nor a perfect Bulls squad, such talk was irrelevant to Jordan. He never entertained excuses—only the weak and cowardly did.
He could accept defeat, but afterward, Jordan would train with relentless ferocity, then crush his conquerors with even more savage and brutal force.
Because of this, on the flight from Chicago to Orlando, no one dared speak. No one mentioned cards, games, or music—no entertainment was broached.
Even Jordan, known for his love of gambling, sat motionless with his eyes closed, resting. None of the others dared be the first to break the silence.
Before defeating the Magic, the Bulls’ atmosphere was inevitably so stifling.
Equally eager for this game was Lin Tian.
His three-game internal suspension had officially ended. Although this match against the Magic wasn’t a revenge battle for him, since he hadn’t played last season, it marked his official debut in the NBA regular season.
He was about to step onto the court for the first time, filled with excitement and anticipation.
The Magic this season had also won three straight games and, as last year’s Eastern Conference champions, currently shared first place in the East with the Bulls.
The powerhouse duo of “The Big Shark” Shaquille O’Neal and “Penny” Hardaway were at their peak, still unburdened by weight or knee troubles—young, impetuous, and full of vigor.
Before the game, Hardaway said bluntly in an interview, “I’m not afraid of Jordan. I grew up watching him and admired him, but I’m not scared. After all, I’ve beaten them once before! We have that confidence!”
“Also, I wish people would stop calling me the next Jordan. I’m not his successor! I’m Anfernee Hardaway! The one and only, the best Hardaway in the world!”
O’Neal chuckled, “My good friend here will be MVP, the scoring champion. Together, we’ll be champions. No one in the East can stand against us! We’re building a new dynasty—Orlando’s dynasty!”
“The league belongs to us!”
Their brash words reflected their peak mindset and form. Fearless, they awaited and even welcomed the challenge.
As the Bulls stepped off the plane before leaving the airport, reporters eager for gossip immediately relayed O’Neal and Hardaway’s remarks to Jordan, then asked what he wanted to say to the Magic.
A group of reporters stared at Jordan expectantly, hoping for some explosive soundbite.
Jordan’s gaze turned fierce. He nodded slightly and said, “May Jesus bless them. I hope they don’t have nightmares tonight. Oh wait, I forgot—they call me ‘Black Jesus’ and the ‘Basketball God.’ Well then, no one will be blessing them tonight!”
“Michael, can you be more blunt? We want something juicier!” one reporter urged.
Though Jordan’s words were arrogant, reporters thrived on such pre-game trash talk. They wanted it as brutal as possible, as if both sides were wielding mops to poke each other’s vulnerabilities.
“Juicier?” Jordan snorted. “Then tell O’Neal and Hardaway to clean their behinds and get ready. Tonight, I’ll make them regret being born! Also, tell their mothers to prepare tissues and open arms to comfort their sobbing children!”
...
The reporters were quick. The exchanges between the Magic duo and Jordan aired almost simultaneously across multiple sports channels nationwide.
“Those two Orlando fools must be nuts,” said Reggie Miller in Minnesota as he watched the interviews, a tone of schadenfreude in his voice. “They’re going to be so thoroughly beaten tonight, they’ll question their own existence.”
In New York City, Patrick Ewing bared his teeth exaggeratedly. “Last year it was some Anderson guy, now these two punk kids are provoking us personally. The Magic really haven’t learned—they think beating Jordan once makes them invincible?”
At the Utah training facility, Karl Malone was scribbling on a massive blackboard in the locker room.
If one looked closely, the towering giant was crossing out “Orlando Magic” from the “Championship Rivals” column. “Gone. No more Orlando. They’re about to be dismantled.”
“Turn on the TV! Quick, turn it on!” Charles Barkley exclaimed excitedly in Phoenix, sitting before the screen. “I’m going to crush that arrogant Shaq bastard who dared to mess with me. Michael, take down that fat guy for me!”
His teammate, Kevin Johnson, teased, “Charles, maybe you should lose some weight before calling someone fat. You’re almost as big as a mule yourself!”
...
By now, the entire league had come to a consensus:
The Magic were doomed tonight.
Jordan’s old rivals knew better than anyone how fiery and dominant he could become when provoked.
All the Magic could do was pray.
With the trash talk heating up and the lingering grudges since last year, CBS had unsurprisingly chosen this game for nationwide live broadcast.
Not just the players but countless fans were eagerly waiting to see what gift the returning Jordan would deliver to the team that had eliminated them last season.
Thousands of fans, players, and executives sat glued to their screens, eager to witness just how powerful Jordan truly was when facing a top-tier powerhouse like the Magic.