“I value that,” he says. “I like rem­i­nisc­ing. I do it more now watch­ing bas­ket­ball than any­thing. Man, I wish I was play­ing right now. I would give up every­thing now to go back and play the game of basketball.”

ESPN pro­files Michael Jor­dan as he turns 50. Doesn’t sound like he’s a great dad, friend or boss — but at least he’s got money, right?

In case any­one in the inner cir­cle for­gets who’s in charge, they only have to recall the code names given to them by the pri­vate secu­rity team assigned to over­seas trips. Estee is Venom. George is But­ler. Yvette is Har­mony. Jor­dan is called Yah­weh — a Hebrew word for God.

And he’s obsessed with get­ting back to his play­ing weight:

He never says it, but it seems as though he’s play­ing the game in his head, using his rage for its intended pur­pose. He still knows how to play. He could shut down LeBron, if his body wouldn’t betray him, if he could hold off time, if he could get to 218.

Glory days well they’ll pass you by.