Basketball and Philosophy: Thinking Outside the Paint

Playing for the Same Team Again

PLAYING FOR THE SAME TEAM AGAIN Matthew H. Slater and Achille C. Varzi The following is a transcript of what might very well have been five telephone conversations between Michael Jordan and former Chicago Bulls coach Phil Jackson in early March 1995, just before MJ’s comeback after more than a year pursuing a baseball career. Day 1: The Conditional Comeback Phil: Hello? Mike: Hey, Phil, it’s me. Is this a bad time? Phil: It’s never a bad time, as long as I’m not deep in meditation. I was just visualizing our next game. What’s up? Mike: Still thinking about my comeback. Phil: Come on, Michael, give it a break. It’ll be just like old times. Two words: Repeat Threepeat. Heck, why stop there? We’ll stamp out championship trophies like a factory, trust me. Mike: I just can’t help wondering. With no Horace, B. J., Bill, Scott . . . is it really going to be the same team?1 You know how important that is for me. Phil: Getting philosophical in your old age, huh? Mike: Time away from basketball got me thinking. If I’m going to be part of the team again, shouldn’t I know what the team really is—whether it’ll really be the same team as before? Phil: Some might say that you’re the team. But what do you suppose a team is? Mike: I’d say that we’re the team: all twelve of us, even JoJo.2 221 Playing for the Same Team Again Phil: I’ll pretend you said “all thirteen of us, including our beloved coach and spiritual leader.” Mike: That’s what I meant. Phil: Well, in that case, let me tell you: in a way your worry is warranted . If teams are just their players (and coaches), then it might seem that you can’t ever play on the same team if the players aren’t the same. Mike: So I was right? We won’t really be the same? Phil: It depends on what you mean by “same.” Mike: Don’t get all hair-splitty on me, now. Phil: No really—think about it. “Being the same” is ambiguous. Things can be qualitatively the same or numerically the same. Our trophies are indistinguishable, except for their inscriptions: in other words, they’re qualitatively the same. But they’re not the same trophy: they are distinct. Numerically distinct trophies can be qualitatively identical. The question it seems you want answered is whether a thing can change yet be literally one and the same thing. Mike: Right. How can it? If a team is just its players (and coach), how could it survive gaining or losing any of them? I’ll tell Krause that I’ll come back only if it’s gonna be the same team, okay?3 If we get everyone back together, I’ll play. Phil: So you think that having the same players is a sufficient condition for having the same team? That if you have the same players, you’d have the same team? Mike: I guess that’s what I’m saying. But now that I think about it, I figure it depends on you as much as Krause. Phil: How so? Mike: Well, you decide who plays what position. Even if we had all the same players, if you ran Cartwright at point guard and me at center, we’d have a problem. We’d lose (and you’d get fired)—and people might not recognize us as the same team. So perhaps merely having the same players back together isn’t sufficient after all; we need them playing in the same positions. Phil: I can guarantee that I’d never try Bill at point (I’ll tell you about this nightmare I had sometime), but I can’t guarantee that I won’t make some minor adjustments. Remember when Doug Collins moved you to shooting guard and had B. J. Armstrong run point? Did that destroy the team or just make it better? 222 Matthew H. Slater and Achille C. Varzi Mike: Ah, Doug . . . now he was a superstar’s coach! “Give Michael the ball and stand back,” he’d say. I hope that I get to play for him again someday. You know, I don’t think I . . . Phil: Ahem! Mike: Sorry. Okay, I see the point: My “same players...