Chapter 6

When Spiderman and Wolverine touched down in front of the Rose Garden, they were immediately mobbed by a crowd of onlookers.
“Spiderman! Spiderman! Sign my basketball!” shouted one enthusiastic woman.
“Wolverine, I love you!” screamed another.
“Wow,” said Spiderman, “I didn’t know T-Blazers fans had such adoration for us two classy gents.”
“Well you know what they say,” replied Wolverine with a shrug, “There’s no accounting for taste!” Everyone who was crowded around them had a good laugh at that one. Spiderman and Wolverine, realizing that the basketball game was going to start shortly, began throwing punches, causing the swarm to quickly disperse and allowing the superheroes to head inside and purchase their tickets. After a quick stop by the concessions stand for a couple of cups of ice-cold Pepsi Cola, they went into the main arena and took their seats.
“So, who are we playing tonight?” asked Spiderman.
“Well,” said Wolverine, “According to this official Ultimate Trailblazers 2004-2005 Season Guide that I just bought for 5 bucks, we’re playing…let’s see here…we’re playing…Michael Jordan and the Looney Toons?!?”
“That can’t be right. Bounce pass that official season guide over here so as I can see for myself,” demanded Spiderman. Wolverine handed it over and after studying the schedule for a few moments, Spiderman declared, “By God, you’re right! Well shit, this is looking to be one hell of a game, then!”
At that very moment, nearly all of the lights in the arena went out and some very powerful, bass-ey music came on over the sounds system.
”Ladies and gentleman…” said an announcer over the energizing growl of the sports-inspired beat, “Once in every generation, there is a basketball team which is so incredible, so perfect, so talented...that it blows our fucking minds. Well guess, what? That team is here, today, in this very basketball arena…that team is…the 2004-2005 Portland Traiiiiilblazeeeerrrrrrrrsss!” With those words, the crowd burst into cheers and whistles and the entire Rose Garden was filled with a bunch of enthusiastic noise. A laser or something in the shape of the Trailblazers logo began spinning around at half-court, and the team eponymous team as the logo lined up in two rows, like they always do, to create a sort of symbolic birth canal for the starting lineup to get pooped out of. The dramatic music continued to thump away. Once again, the announcer spoke:
“Standing at 6 feet, 3 inches, and weighing in at two hundred and thirty pounds, playing the position of small forward, it’s…Clyyyyyde Drexleeeer!” As the crowd once again went wild, a black man with goggles rose from a chair emblazoned with the Gatorade logo and ran through his teammates with his head down, humbly giving low fives as he went. He emerged out the other side and took a mock jump-shot. After the deafening cheers had settled died down, the announcer continued with his introductions.
“Standing at 7 feet, 7 inches, and weighing in at two hundred and twenty pounds, playing the position of center, it’s the one and only Chocolate Rocket, Manute Booooooooooool!” The fans began to scream and chant “Bol! Bol! Bol! Bol!” which Manute graciously acknowledged with a big wave to the spectators. The introduction spectacle was, of course, repeated for each player on the starting lineup.
“Chaaaaaarles Barkleeeyyyyy!” (wild cheers)
“Muuuuuggsy Booooooogues!” (wild cheers)
“Dirrrrrk Nowitzkiiiiii!” (the crowd just goes nuts, several women faint)
“Ladies and gentlemen, these are…your 2004-2005 Portland Traiiiiilblazeeeeeerrrrrrsss!” After some more cheering, the lights came back on and it was time to introduce the opposing team.
“Ladies and gentleman,” said the announcer in a slightly less energetic, but still sultry voice, “please put your hands together for Michael Jordan and the Looney Toons!”
Polite applause filled the arena as the team came out for their introductions. The Michael Jordan and the Looney Toons starting lineup of course included Michael Jordan, Bugs Bunny, Tweety Bird, Elmer Fudd, and Taz the Tasmanian Devil.
“Hey,” said Wolverine as he turned towards his pal Spiderman, “Guess who my favorite player on the Michael Jordan and the Looney Toons team is?”
“I don’t know, who?”
“I’ll give you a hint…it’s Michael Jordan!”
“Yes!” responded Spiderman, “He is a great player, and he is a really good guy to boot. You wouldn’t believe it, but I actually saved his life once!”
“You’re shitting me!” asserted a shocked Wolverine.
“I shit you not,” replied Spiderman in true Spiderman fashion.
“Well…spill the beans, bub! What happened?”
“I remember the whole thing like it was yesterday, even though it was more like five years ago. It was after church on a Sunday; Michael and I were sitting in a coffee shop, eating coffee. Well, technically we were drinking it, but, anyway, Michael Jordan was asking me if I loved him and I had to tell him the truth. I said ‘I don’t,’ and this look of sadness came across his face and then he said ‘Kiss me,’ and I was like ‘What?’ Well, he then repeated himself, but added context to his request, saying ‘Kiss me; there’s something I have to know, so just do it, ya big galoot,’ and I was like, inside my head, ‘Okay, this is Michael Jordan here. What’m I gonna say to that?’ So I didn’t say anything. Well, actually, I said, ‘MJ, I…’ and then I just trailed off and Michael Jordan leaned in toward me slowly, and I did the same, and everything was going great until my spidey sense went into full-on tingle mode. I quickly shouted ‘Watch out, Michael Jordan!’ and then I grabbed him and dove to the floor just as a giant wooden door came flying right through the front window of the coffee shop! As it flew right over us, the bottom edge of the door narrowly missed my face as I was lying on the ground, which is good because it probably would have ripped part of my face off.
“The door continued flying past us and nailed a barista square in the chest, crushing his rib cage and killing him semi-instantly. The most important thing, though, was that me and Michael Jordan were okay. After a few moments of laying on the ground in each other’s arms, we came to our senses and hopped up to look around. It turns out there was a pickup truck with a bunch of doors stacked up in the bed and it took a curve too fast and one of the doors flew out, that being the door that nearly killed the greatest basketball player ever to play for the Chicago Bulls.
“After it was all over and we had laughed about the situation a bunch, Michael Jordan invited me to come over to his sprawling mansion sometime. I swung by his place on Tuesday, but didn't actually have the guts to go up and knock on the front door until Thursday evening. The air on that day was thick with the smell of coconuts, because his mansion was in Hawaii. I walked up his basketball-shaped driveway and then I rang the doorbell and then I heard some movement inside and then a few seconds later Michael Jordan opened up and the front door and he was wearing a black tank top and some basketball shorts and he was really sweaty and he said,
‘Woo! Sorry I’m so sweaty, but I was just dunkin' some balls on my private basketball court. Come on in, Spides.’ I followed him into his sprawling, luxurious home and lemme tell ya what, there sure was a lot of marble, and cherub statues, and an impressive amount of fresh flowers. Michael led me into his office, which was decorated with a bunch of trophies and framed issues of Sports Illustrated and shit like that.
‘Can I fix you a drink?’ said Michael as he walked over to his fully-stocked bar.
‘Sure,’ I replied, ‘I’ll have a vodka and red wine, on the rocks.’
‘You have good taste, my friend,’ smiled Michael. ‘Here’s your drink. Please, have a seat.’ I plopped down into a comfy leather chair that sat facing his desk. Michael, on the opposite side, plopped into a comfy leather chair of his own.
‘So, do you know why I brought you here today?’ he asked.
‘Well…no,’ I replied honestly.
‘Spiderman, you saved my life, and in return there’s something I’d like to give you.’ He got up from the chair in which he had seated himself only a few moments earlier and proceeded to strip off all of his clothing until he was completely naked.
‘M-M-Michael, what are you doing?’ I stammered.
‘Spiderman, chill out! This all part of the official “passage-of-the-medal ceremony.” ’
‘Do you mean…’ I trailed off sheepishly.
‘Yes, Spiderman,’ he said in a warm, comforting tone, ‘Because you saved my life, I am going to give you the gold medal that I won in the 1992 Barcelona Olympics.’ With that, he gracefully walked over and grabbed the medal, which was draped over a nearby life-sized cardboard cutout of Michael in his Bulls uniform.
‘But Michael…I can’t take this,’ I responded, ‘Please, keep it...you earned that medal, not me.’
‘No, no; I insist. Please, Spiderman, stand before me and disrobe.’ Well, once again this was motherfucking Michael Jordan, what was I going to say? The only thing I could say:
‘Can I at least leave the mask on?’
‘Well...’ replied Michael, ‘Technichally, you’re supposed to be completely naked, but I think we can make an exception just this once.’ He flashed a big smile and threw me that me that famous wink of his. I let out a polite sigh, and proceeded to peel of my spider suit. It was kind of awkward; I felt naked without it. Basically, I was naked without it.
“Now wearing only my mask and the ten pieces of finger armor that I never remove, I stepped forward and knelt in front of Michael Jordan. In an unearthly, disembodied voice, he spoke those words which have haunted me, in a good way, until this very day:
‘Spiderman, for bravery above and beyond the of Call of Duty, I present you with the coveted gold medal in Olympic basketball achievement. Spiderman, you are my Dream Team.’
“I’m glad I was wearing that mask, because my eyes quickly teared up like a couple of dogs. I bowed my head, and Michael, ever so gently, placed the medal on my neck.
‘Michael…’ I couldn’t think of anything to say that could capture how I felt.
‘I know…I know.’ was his solemn reply. And then, with a flash, he disappeared, leaving only a thin wisp of smoke that smelled exactly like that of a fine cigar.”
“Wow, now that was an incredible story!” exclaimed Wolverine, “But hey, shut up; the game is about to start.”