Like so many people around my age, I was an enthusiastic Michael Jordan fan as a kid and into young adulthood. I watched “NBA Inside Stuff” religiously on Saturday mornings, read about Jordan and the Chicago Bulls in “Sports Illustrated,” spent my meager earnings from my Dunkin’ Donuts weekend shifts on Walter Iooss’ lush “Rare Air,” the coffee table book of Jordan images.
The first night my husband and I spent away from our first daughter was to see Jordan with the Washington Wizards against the Boston Celtics.