On this date Michael Jordan retired from the Chicago Bulls for the second time, ending the greatest individual run in NBA history. He would later return to play two seasons with the Washington Wizards from 2001-2003, but his legacy was cemented in Chicago, where he won six championships and became a global icon.
On a cold January afternoon in Chicago, the basketball world stood still. At the United Center, surrounded by a packed house of reporters, fans, and NBA dignitaries, Michael Jordan, the greatest player the game had ever seen, announced his retirement from professional basketball for the second time.
"I'm here to announce my retirement from the game of basketball," Jordan told the assembled crowd, his voice steady but carrying the weight of finality. When pressed about whether he might return again, Jordan offered a now-famous qualifier: "I never say never, but 99.9 percent. I am very secure with my decision."
It was a far cry from his first retirement in October 1993, which had shocked the world and eventually led to an unlikely baseball interlude. This time, there was no dramatic surprise, just a legend acknowledging that his time had come.
Jordan's timing was impeccable. His final competitive act as a Bull had been perhaps the most cinematic moment in NBA history: hitting the game-winning jumper with 5.2 seconds remaining in Game 6 of the 1998 NBA Finals against the Utah Jazz, securing the Bulls' sixth championship in eight years.
That shot, taken in Salt Lake City with the game tied at 86, epitomized everything Jordan represented: clutch performance under ultimate pressure. As the ball swished through the net, Jordan held his follow-through, a perfect statue of athletic excellence. It was the kind of ending Hollywood scriptwriters would reject as too perfect.
The numbers told a story of unprecedented dominance:
But statistics, however staggering, couldn't fully capture Jordan's impact. He had transformed basketball from a popular sport into a global phenomenon. His Air Jordan sneakers became cultural icons. His tongue-wagging drives to the basket and gravity-defying hang time had inspired millions worldwide.
At his retirement press conference, Jordan was flanked by his then-wife Juanita. NBA Commissioner David Stern flew to Chicago specifically to honor the occasion, calling Jordan one of the greatest ambassadors the game had ever seen. Bulls Chairman Jerry Reinsdorf re-hoisted Jordan's retired No. 23 jersey to the United Center rafters and presented him with his 1998 championship ring.
"This is a day that I hoped would never come," Reinsdorf said, his voice thick with emotion. "It has to be the toughest day in the history of the Chicago Bulls. It's a tough day for Chicago; it's a tough day for the NBA."
Jordan acknowledged the difficulty of his decision. "I'm doing a good job of trying to hold back the emotions because it's like taking back something I truly have loved," he said. "I started when I was 12 years old and I'm 36 next month, so 24 years I've been playing the game. It's sad that I'm leaving the game but it's happy that my life is starting to go into a whole new stage."
At 35 years old, Jordan explained that his decision wasn't about his physical abilities. He had just completed one of his finest seasons, averaging 28.7 points per game and leading the Bulls to their sixth championship. Instead, it was about something deeper.
"Right now, I don't have the mental challenges that I have had in the past to proceed as a basketball player," Jordan explained. The competitive fire that had driven him to six championships no longer burned with the same intensity. The Bulls' decision not to bring back coach Phil Jackson, the architect of the dynasty, had sealed Jordan's decision during the summer of 1998.
Jordan's retirement marked the definitive end of the Bulls' dynasty. The team that had defined basketball excellence throughout the 1990s would quickly dismantle. The roster that had won 72 games in 1995-96 and three consecutive championships from 1996-98 would scatter to the winds.
As Jordan spoke to reporters that January day, fans outside the United Center held signs. One particularly poignant one read: "No More Air," a reference to Jordan's iconic "Air Jordan" nickname.
Jordan's "99.9 percent" qualifier would prove prophetic. In 2001, at age 38, he would return for two more seasons with the Washington Wizards. But that January afternoon in 1999, as he stood at the podium in the United Center, the basketball world believed it was witnessing the final chapter of the greatest career the sport had ever known.
The game would go on. Other stars would emerge. But there would never be another Michael Jordan, a player who transcended his sport, defined an era, and left an indelible mark on athletic excellence itself.
As Jordan himself put it: "I know from a career standpoint I have accomplished everything that I could as an individual."
For once, even Michael Jordan's legendary confidence was an understatement.
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