He Works Hard for the Money

As soon as Air Jordan’s astronomical contract demands--similar to my own in every respect except for the $36 million--were made public, I heard no fewer than three allusions to how much this amounted to:

(a) Per game.

(b) Per minute.

(c) Per dunk.

(d) Per putt.

This often happens when an athlete asks for big numbers, although I am still waiting for an athlete to ask for small numbers. For example, whenever a boxer such as Mike Tyson makes $10 million for a fight, somebody invariably breaks this down to $5 million per minute, $1 million per punch and $500,000 for every time his opponent goes, “Duh.”

Trouble is, it’s unfair.

The $10 million isn’t for one night’s work. It is for training camp, lodging, airfare, entourage, food, equipment, sparring partners, trainers, managers, cut men, limousines, drivers . . . and, in Tyson’s case, such necessities as bail money, hush money and I-drove-the-Bentley-into-a-tree money.

Therefore, if the magnificent Michael Jordan is asking the Chicago Bulls for a two-year, $36-million “absolute bottom figure” deal, no way you can divide 82 games by $18 million and conclude that Mike will make $219,512 per game, even though, as you can plainly see, I just did.

Because, first of all, that only comes to $17,999,984, meaning that Michael got cheated out of 16 bucks someplace.

Second, there is a word you might have heard of, a word the wise-butts always seem to forget.

That word is practice.

For those who have forgotten, Michael Jordan does not show up at the United Center at 7:29 p.m., grab his pants and run onto the court bare-chested, just in the time for the opening tipoff.

That’s the other guy, the blond one.

No, day in, day out from late autumn to early summer, Jordan is out there perfecting those “instinctive,” “natural,” “God-given” abilities of his . . . you know, the ones a man of his skills never has to practice.

Yeah, sure.

And Beethoven never took a lesson.

Furthermore, it is Jordan’s lot in life to represent the Chicago Bulls wherever he goes, so he is working every minute of every day. There are only three public places Michael can go to get away from the crowds: the golf course, a sensory-deprivation tank and a Spike Lee movie.

Michael earns his money. He spends hours in airports, airplanes, hotel rooms and team buses. Well, OK, so maybe he doesn’t ride the bus. The last time Michael’s team traveled exclusively by bus, he was playing baseball in Birmingham, Ala., where he bought the team a bus.

I suppose if he gets his $36 mil, Michael will be able to do some of the things he has always wanted to do, like buy Birmingham, Ala.

Jim Carrey just got $20 million to play a cable-TV guy in a movie. Demi Moore got something like $12 million to play a stripteaser in a movie. Are they worth more than Michael Jordan? Do people break down their money per scene? More important, shouldn’t Demi point out that a stripper is a far more dependable person than a cable-TV guy?

Whatever Jordan wants, Jordan should get.

I remember the Bulls when their best player was the team organist. I sat through Bull games at which nuns booed. I saw 82 games one season when Gene Siskel’s thumb actually got sore from being turned upside-down so many times.

Michael Jordan was the best thing that ever happened to Chicago, except for the Italian beef sandwich with the hot peppers. He made Bull merchandise sell. He made Bull memorabilia exist, because nobody wants memorabilia unless the bilia is memorable.

Pay his tab.

According to published reports, Jordan says if the Bulls don’t make his ends meet, “I’ll play on another team for $10 million less if I have to, just on principle.”

Yes, that principle should add up, nicely. Sally Struthers could feed entire nations on that principle. I, myself, could live more comfortably, just by Dust-Busting up the loose change from under the sofa cushions in Michael’s house.

It’s an ultimatum from the ultra-player. Pay me, he says, or I will play for somebody cheaper, just to spite you.

This means for a measly $26 million, Michael next season could be a Vancouver Grizzly.

You know what happens then, don’t you? Big trouble for the NBA. Low ratings for NBC and TNT. And a four-game sweep of the Orlando Magic in the finals, by da Grizzlies.