Fourteen years ago, in the same city in which I’m writing these lines, I played my only game against Michael Jordan, my childhood hero. I remember that it was a December 31st, that I was coming back from an ankle sprain and that I had played briefly, maybe two or three minutes the day before at the Madison Square Garden. Back then, Pop wasn’t the Pop he is today and was not resting players at all. The chances of playing significant minutes were slim but not null, I would’ve been happy with five or six good minutes in which maybe, I was gonna guard him a couple time or be guarded by him. Who knows? Well, Pop. Of course.