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by Julian Spivey, Preston Tolliver & Eric Fulton I asked Eric Fulton and Preston Tolliver who often collaborate with me on sports pieces for this website to jot down a bit about their “first favorite athlete” or the athlete who initially got them interested in sports. With “The Last Dance,” the documentary about Michael Jordan and the last hurrah of the 1998 Chicago Bulls, airing on ESPN now I felt this was a good time for such a piece. I just knew that one of those guys would pick M.J. as their first favorite athlete. It turns out both of them chose Jordan and left me standing out alone with my weirdo pick. That’s alright, I suspect most folks who grew up in the ‘90s as we did would’ve picked Jordan as the athlete who truly got them into sports.  Photo Art by Preston Tolliver Eric: Michael Jordan Growing up as a kid, basketball was not my favorite sport. However, the biggest reason why I liked it was because of Michael Jordan. What made Jordan incredibly great was he transcended the game as a guard. Most guards before his time was known for just passing the ball. With Jordan, it was his ability to score baskets whether it was by dunking or scoring a mid-range jumper. Jordan alongside teammate Scottie Pippen were the two biggest reasons I started liking basketball. He’s the first athlete I can ever remember truly calling a favorite when it came to my love of sports. Preston: Michael Jordan Like many people, I suspect, I didn’t come to my first favorite athlete by choice, but by influence. Sports were a rarity in my household; outside of professional wrestling and the occasional NASCAR race my stepdad would turn on to sleep through, we didn’t watch a whole lot. However, as I suspect was also commonplace across mid-‘90s America - a certain fascination of the Chicago Bulls and His Airness loomed large over our household. Family members loved basketball and tuned in to watch Michael Jordan and Scottie Pippen make mincemeat of Karl Malone and John Stockton. As for myself, I mostly just played with my toys when the games were on, but I knew who Jordan was; that he was the greatest basketball player in the world, so good that he transcended basketball and was a household name, as recognizable as grandma and grandpa, and that he helped Bugs Bunny avoid eternal servitude for an alien theme park owner. My interest in basketball, along with the rest of the household’s, waned after Jordan won his sixth ring and entered what I’ll always consider his true retirement (Wizards? Wizards who?). When I got older - arguably old enough to gain agency of my own interests, rather than leeching off those around me - my eyes turned to Larry Bird, a player who left the league decades before my love of the sport really blossomed. I read stories and bought DVDs and watched documentaries to learn all I could about the “Hick from French Lick,” finding inspiration not just in how hard he worked to become Larry Legend, but in all the trash he talked on his way there. Michael Jordan may have been my first love, but Larry Bird was my true one.  Photo Art by Preston Tolliver Julian: Horace Grant
I lived the first almost eight years of my life in Deltona, Fla., about half an hour from Orlando. At the time of my birth in 1987 there was no such thing as an NBA team in Orlando, actually there wasn’t even an NBA team in the state of Florida at that time. The Orlando Magic franchise began in 1989 almost two months after my second birthday and just a little more than a half decade later they were the talk of the league thanks to a duo of young superstars in Shaquille O’Neal and Penny Hardaway. But, neither of those stars – a future hall of fame big man and a lanky point guard who likely would have joined him in enshrinement had it not been for injuries – were my first favorite athlete. Nah, I liked the hard-working, blue collar-like power forward Horace Grant, who wore those goofy blue goggles. Ok, so Grant’s work ethic is something I probably grew to love as I aged, but those goggles made him the star of my first grade class with class projects of coloring paper goggles and strapping them around are eyes to imitate the big man. The Magic being the talk of the town didn’t last too long, as they were swept in the 1995 NBA Finals by the more mature, veteran Houston Rockets led by two future hall of famers in Hakeem Olajuwon and Clyde Drexler. Within two weeks of the Magic losing in those Finals I’d be arriving at my new home in rural Arkansas – a state I still call home 25 years later. But, for many years after moving to Arkansas the Magic were still my team (it likely helps that the closest team at the time was the then bad Dallas Mavericks – now the Memphis Grizzlies and Oklahoma City Thunder are both local-ish). I had this Horace Grant poster hanging on my bedroom wall for years (and wish I still owned it) but could buy it if I’d like off eBay for $14.99. I grew to be inspired by Grant’s previously mentioned work ethic as I got older and saw him as more than goggles guy. When I played school yard basketball with my friends, I prided myself on going after rebounds more than I did on trying to score. Grant was traded to the Seattle SuperSonics before the ’99-’00 season, but I was happy for him when he won the title in 2001 after joining his former teammate Shaq in Los Angeles with the Lakers. He had won three previous titles with Michael Jordan’s Bulls in the early ‘90s, but that was before I’d gotten into the game. I was elated when Grant returned to Orlando for the ’01-’02 season, but he was past his prime and didn’t get along with coach Doc Rivers or star Tracy McGrady and was cut. I realize now in my 30s that Grant was an unusual player to become a first favorite as he’s not exactly a legend of the game, but I’ll never forget how he and his bad eyesight got a young kid into basketball and sports in general.
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