You Feeling Like You Run It, Huh? Now You Know How I Feel

By now, you've probably heard Kanye outrap Jay-Z on "Run This Town." It follows in a long tradition of challengers beating aging greats and nobody caring. Leon Spinks took the heavyweight championship from Muhammad Ali. But, that's not exactly analogous. Muhammad Ali was always an athlete driven by conflicted emotions. All his flashy dancing and ducking in the ring disguised a mind looking for angles to unleash destruction. Everything Ali was, he was in a boxing ring - mouthy, generous, ruthless, joyful and charismatic.

Because of the public personality Ali had and the one Jay-Z has (not to mention that Kanye>Spinks), a flabby Ali being outboxed by Spinks is not quite the same as Kanye's scenestealer on "Run This Town." A better example may be when Ricky Davis dunked on Michael Jordan. Jordan, like Jay-Z, is not comfortable giving himself over to his public. There is an impenetrability about both of them, a wary awareness that most eyes are on them and a tension in their shoulders as if they're braced against that responsibility. They are not uncomfortable in the spotlight (because they know how good they are), they're just not fully themselves there. Instead, we see two-dimensional superheroes - Jay-Hova and Air Jordan, dodging bullets and defying gravity. In fact, a determination to actualize the myths created around them seems to be both of their motivation to succeed. MJ wanted to be the greatest player ever because he needed to be the champion that Nike/Gatorade/Hanes had created. In public, he flattened himself so that he could be a better fit for everyone. Endorsements begat championships begat endorsements and the tongue-wag was trademarked. Over 25 years of public life, there was only one moment when the cracks appeared - clutching the trophy and crying for his lost father. Jay's image control is even better. A poor kid from Marcy rapped like he was the man until he got on the lists and, eleven albums later, I can't name a single song that Jay's sounded really real. When the beat calls for something somber, he spins a yarn (usually in third-person) about how in order to survive you gotta learn to live with regrets. It can be brilliant (like on the underappreciated In My Lifetime cut, "Lucky Me"), but it's a crutch. He can't see 'em coming down his eyes, so he's gotta make the song cry.

Back to Jordan: During the first year of Jordan's second unretirement, what should have been a sedate (and likely sleep-inducing) mid-season matchup between the Cavs and the Wizards was given a jolt by Ricky Davis, the perpetual knucklehead. Oblivious to protocol, Ricky broke the cardinal "no-meaningful-quotes-during-pregame-press-conferences" rule and promised to dunk on Michael Jordan when the Cavs met up with the Wizards later in the season. Unfortunately, no YouTube footage exists of the actual incident, so I have to rely on the vagaries of my memory. In the waning moments of the game, Davis reached into a passing lane and was able to poke an errant pass away. Sprinting towards the basket with the ball, no player was in the vicinity of Davis except for Jordan who was well back. Davis slowed down to entice Jordan's natural defensive instinct. MJ turned on the hustle to try to save a bucket. Just as the greatest player to have ever graced the hardwood closed in, Davis leapt up and put down a fairly pedestrian one-handed jam. Then, he celebrated like Jordan after he gutted Ehlo's Cavs.

You see, Tyree Ricardo (Ricky) Davis idolized Michael Jordan. He taped every one of MJ's NBA on NBC games, humming the theme song in his excitement. As soon as the game finished, Little Ricky would rewind and watch it again looking for the sleight of hand behind Jordan's magic. Soon Ricky became the Michael Jordan of his podunk Iowa town, wearing 23 for all his high school and AAU games. Come senior year, The University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill still hadn't offered him a scholarship despite the letters (handwritten and increasingly desperate) that he'd sent to Dean Smith. The Heels weren't interested because they already had an explosive swingman in Vince Carter and rumors of Ricky's erratic behavior had begun to surface. So, like his hero MJ, Ricky decided he would go the biggest school in his state and wear 23. After a year at Iowa, he entered the draft early (even though he wasn't a certain first-rounder) so that he might still have the opportunity to play against Michael. He was picked 21st by the Charlotte Hornets - he took it as a sign that he was finally going to North Carolina. But, before Ricky got the chance to play against him, Jordan retired a second time. The Hornets found Ricky later that day in an equipment closet playing "Every Rose Has Its Thorn" on an unplugged electric cavaquinho.

Ricky Davis had that Wizards game circled on his calendar with sparkles and hearts from the moment he heard that Jordan was coming out of retirement. Jordan probably didn't know what team he was playing until the day before. To advance, you have to kill your idols.