school in Newark, New Jersey. Clark, played by Morgan Freeman, utters this classic line:“Discipline is not the enemy of enthusiasm.”
In 1975, Junko Tabei became the first female to climb Mount Everest. After her success she said, “Technique and ability alone do not get you to the top; it is the willpower that is the most important—it rises in your heart.”
There are those moments when no one is watching, those times when work becomes laborious, when we feel as if we’re going to sink underneath our desks, when we wish we could go home and sleep for months at a time. We live large portions of life like this, in that period athletes call The Grind. And I have noticed that this is the period of life in which most people tend to throw up their arms and surrender. But this is when the victorious figures of our society have done the opposite. They’ve developed an immunity to The Grind. “The Grind,” said ex-tennis star Jimmy Connors, “is the stew of talent and determination that keeps certain players hammering on, even when the match score favors the opponent. The Grind is the sweat addiction that pulls some players out of bed in spite of aches and muscle strains. It’s the part of all this I enjoy the most.”
Jordan thrived in The Grind, in those times when his natural instincts wouldn’t have led him to a basketball court, when he had to fight his mind and his body, grit through pain and doubt just to make it onto the court. That ability to persevere, to grind even at his weakest, is a product of strength, of will, of preparation, most of it within the walls of his own psyche. It’s the product of Jordan continually pushing himself to untold limits.
Stacey King, one of Michael’s teammates in Chicago, offers a revealing insight:“MJ’s special strength was his ability to play through pain. He just blocked out the pain of a sprained ankle or foot injury and wouldn’t miss a game. Most guys would be out for two weeks, but not MJ. His focus and mental toughness were awesome. (Allen Iverson shows glimpses of that now, but he’s about the only one like Mike that way. )The result was that MJ forced his teammates to play up to his level because he came to every practice and game ready to go all out. People see the glitz and glamour of MJ’s life, but they didn’t see the hard work, preparation and pain he went through.”
He played in Phoenix with an infected foot. The Suns’ team doctor wanted him to go home. Jordan refused. Instead, he played every night on that road trip.
He played once with a broken cheekbone, with blood leaking into his sinus cavity. He never missed a game. He never even missed a practice. He never used a facemask.
“One day, Michael had back spasms in his lower back so bad, we had to carry him off the bus,” said Phil Jackson. “He got forty that night.”
The Bulls’ team doctor, John Hefferon, would often see Jordan’s father, and James Jordan would ask how his son was feeling, and Hefferon would say he wasn’t feeling well, that the flu was coming on, that his stomach was upset. “That mean’s Michael’s going to have a great game tonight,” James Jordan would say.
And most of the time, he was right.
This story comes from a man named Marty Dim. He and his fifteen-year-old son were playing golf at Briarwood Country Club in Chicago one afternoon, and when they reached the fourth tee, they caught up with Michael Jordan, who invited them to play the rest of the course with him. Dim’s son was so nervous he could barely speak.
Do something every day that you don’t want to do. This is the golden rule for acquiring the habit of doing your duty without pain.
—Mark Twain
On the fifth hole, Jordan hit his drive into a bush. He hacked out, emerging with torn clothes and scratches on his arm, and made par.
On the sixth green, Dim’s son was still a wreck. He lagged behind. He saw that the others were finished playing and told them to go ahead.
Jordan was on the far
In 1975, Junko Tabei became the first female to climb Mount Everest. After her success she said, “Technique and ability alone do not get you to the top; it is the willpower that is the most important—it rises in your heart.”
There are those moments when no one is watching, those times when work becomes laborious, when we feel as if we’re going to sink underneath our desks, when we wish we could go home and sleep for months at a time. We live large portions of life like this, in that period athletes call The Grind. And I have noticed that this is the period of life in which most people tend to throw up their arms and surrender. But this is when the victorious figures of our society have done the opposite. They’ve developed an immunity to The Grind. “The Grind,” said ex-tennis star Jimmy Connors, “is the stew of talent and determination that keeps certain players hammering on, even when the match score favors the opponent. The Grind is the sweat addiction that pulls some players out of bed in spite of aches and muscle strains. It’s the part of all this I enjoy the most.”
Jordan thrived in The Grind, in those times when his natural instincts wouldn’t have led him to a basketball court, when he had to fight his mind and his body, grit through pain and doubt just to make it onto the court. That ability to persevere, to grind even at his weakest, is a product of strength, of will, of preparation, most of it within the walls of his own psyche. It’s the product of Jordan continually pushing himself to untold limits.
Stacey King, one of Michael’s teammates in Chicago, offers a revealing insight:“MJ’s special strength was his ability to play through pain. He just blocked out the pain of a sprained ankle or foot injury and wouldn’t miss a game. Most guys would be out for two weeks, but not MJ. His focus and mental toughness were awesome. (Allen Iverson shows glimpses of that now, but he’s about the only one like Mike that way. )The result was that MJ forced his teammates to play up to his level because he came to every practice and game ready to go all out. People see the glitz and glamour of MJ’s life, but they didn’t see the hard work, preparation and pain he went through.”
He played in Phoenix with an infected foot. The Suns’ team doctor wanted him to go home. Jordan refused. Instead, he played every night on that road trip.
He played once with a broken cheekbone, with blood leaking into his sinus cavity. He never missed a game. He never even missed a practice. He never used a facemask.
“One day, Michael had back spasms in his lower back so bad, we had to carry him off the bus,” said Phil Jackson. “He got forty that night.”
The Bulls’ team doctor, John Hefferon, would often see Jordan’s father, and James Jordan would ask how his son was feeling, and Hefferon would say he wasn’t feeling well, that the flu was coming on, that his stomach was upset. “That mean’s Michael’s going to have a great game tonight,” James Jordan would say.
And most of the time, he was right.
This story comes from a man named Marty Dim. He and his fifteen-year-old son were playing golf at Briarwood Country Club in Chicago one afternoon, and when they reached the fourth tee, they caught up with Michael Jordan, who invited them to play the rest of the course with him. Dim’s son was so nervous he could barely speak.
Do something every day that you don’t want to do. This is the golden rule for acquiring the habit of doing your duty without pain.
—Mark Twain
On the fifth hole, Jordan hit his drive into a bush. He hacked out, emerging with torn clothes and scratches on his arm, and made par.
On the sixth green, Dim’s son was still a wreck. He lagged behind. He saw that the others were finished playing and told them to go ahead.
Jordan was on the far
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