Michael Jordan came sprinting and bouncing through the door first, pumping his fist. His smile seemed to me more about satisfaction than accomplishment.
Finally, the Finals.
Magic was in the Air, but Michael Jordan had taken the air out of Magic Johnson and the Los Angeles Lakers. No one realized quite yet, but the tectonic plates of NBA distinction had shifted irrevocably. Their joy was unrestrained, which is predictable at such moments as many in sports have experienced. Yet, it also seemed as much therapeutic for all the hurt and pain it seemed to erase.
A gleeful Jerry Krause even hugged me.