Michael Jordan showed us greatness, and finally, gratitude

Expectations are a tricky thing, and how we manage not only our expectations of ourselves but of everyone who surrounds us is surely among the greatest challenges of life. We yearn for the stability of having our expectations met.

I came into "The Last Dance" expecting to learn something about Michael Jordan, and I truly believe I did.

I believe I learned what made him the greatest basketball player of all time, and one of the most competitive people ever to exist.

But what I wonder now is if making this film helped him learn something about himself.

I wonder if it made him feel grateful that he had the teammates he had, the coaches he had, and maybe even that he worked for Jerry Krause.

I wonder if it made him feel nostalgia for his playing days, or for the cheers of fans, or boos of rivals.

I wonder if it made him think about how quickly time moves and what that time means.

The stability Jordan had while he was playing for the Chicago Bulls at the height of his basketball powers in 1998 was a core element of his being.

A biographer of Jordan says: "Most people struggle to be present. People go and sit in ashrams for 20 years in India trying to be present. Do yoga. Meditate. Trying to get here, now. … Most people live in fear because we project the past into the future. Michael is a mystic. He was never anywhere else."

And at the end of 10 hours of the pursuit of a deeper understanding of Jordan, I had to wonder: He may have never been anywhere else, but did he ever get to leave?

The closing moments of the documentary have the 1997-98 Bulls — the greatest collection of basketball talent in the modern era — gathered with Phil Jackson to burn the words from their souls together as a way of saying goodbye after six NBA titles in eight seasons.

Jordan wrote a poem, even though he said he was not a poet.

And for 22 years people have said that even if he left, he simply could not say goodbye — to the competitiveness, to the court, to the stability of the game.

"I felt like we could have won seven. I really believe that. We may not have, but to not be able to try that's just something I can't accept," Jordan says. "For whatever reason I just can't accept it."

I hope making this helped him find acceptance.

It's stupid to say about one of the most accomplished, wealthy, famous human beings on earth, but Jordan gave a great deal of himself to all of us, and he deserves that acceptance.

1. "Don't ever talk trash to Black Jesus." A great piece of trash talk from MJ also leads to Reggie Miller calling him "Black Cat," which is just hilarious. Jordan is a black cat. Unknowable and you are absolutely cursed if you cross his path.

3. How about the conspiracy theories over the pizza Jordan ate the night before the Flu Game in 1997. THERE WERE FIVE DELIVERY GUYS! If you're so concerned maybe don't eat the pizza?

4. And about the Flu Game, if it actually had been the flu it would have been hard to champion it during the current climate regarding viral shedding.

5. There was a great deal of gratitude in this final two hours. MJ telling his friends to get in the moment and stay here after Game 6. Jerry Reinsdorf saying he found the greatest joy in bringing happiness to strangers. Phil's acceptance in saying goodbye. Jordan saying it all started with hope. The team gathering to share their emotions. The philosophical depths of sports have never been so lovingly detailed.

Speaking of gratitude: This was the most fun I have had in my career. I could write about this forever. It has felt distracting and exciting and hopeful to me. Thank you for reading.