“Life without Michael Jordan has to be without Michael Jordan’s input” – MJ on why he never saw himself joining Bulls front office originally appeared on Basketball Network.
After retirement, everyone expected Michael Jordan to stay close to the Chicago Bulls franchise in some way. It was the logical thought — when a player gives a city six championships, five MVP awards and a dynasty that defined an era, one imagines he’ll always be part of the building, even if it’s from the boardroom.
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But Jordan had other ideas.
His farewell to the game was final, at least as far as Chicago was concerned. No return as team president or shadowy advisory role, and certainly no phone calls on draft night.
Staying far away
Jordan’s decision to stay away from the organization, as it turns out, was rooted in something deeper than just moving on. It was about letting the Bulls grow without clinging to the past.
“I’m not against that,” he said of working behind the scenes. “But I think the best way to survive without Michael Jordan is [to] somehow start to live without him in some respect.”
“I’m always going to support the Chicago Bulls, because it has given me a great joy to be a part of the organization. But life without Michael Jordan has to be without Michael Jordan’s input,” he added.
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The moment Jordan walked away after his final shot in 1998 — an icy jumper that clinched the Bulls’ sixth title in eight years — the city entered a strange vacuum.
Coach Phil Jackson was gone. Scottie Pippen was shipped out. Dennis Rodman was gone as well. The dynasty was deconstructed brick by brick. And yet, fans hoped Jordan might stay to help glue some of those bricks back together.
But for MJ, legacy didn’t mean lingering. The same obsessive drive that defined his playing career informed his post-retirement choices. He wasn’t going to hang around as a ceremonial figurehead or offer part-time mentorship.
The Bulls needed to figure out who they were without their icon. As he explained, being involved would blur the line between eras and Chicago had to learn to breathe on its own.
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In truth, the front office, led by GM Jerry Krause, never made that transition easy. Krause’s infamous “organizations win championships” comment had already put cracks in the foundation. When Jordan left, the front office seemed content to lean into a complete rebuild, even if it meant seasons full of losses.
From 1999 through 2004, the Bulls never won more than 30 games in a season. They cycled through coaches, drafted promising players like Elton Brand and Jamal Crawford, only to trade them away before they could develop in Chicago.
Life without Jordan
There was always the looming idea that a call to Jordan could fix things. That if he returned in some official capacity, like as GM, president or consultant, the Bulls might rediscover that fire. But for Jordan, nostalgia was no substitute for structure. He loved the Bulls, but they had to stand alone if they wanted to evolve.
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“But if need be and they need my support with anything, I will certainly consider that and lend my two cents towards that,” he said.
It wasn’t that Jordan closed the door entirely. His respect for the franchise was intact. His legacy was intertwined with Chicago’s identity in ways that no one could separate. But he made it clear that his involvement would be on their terms, not his. If they needed guidance, he would listen. But he would not insert himself uninvited or build a second career babysitting the ghost of his first.
Still, it’s hard to ignore how rough the Bulls’ post-Jordan years were.
From 1999 to 2008, they made the playoffs just four times and never got past the second round. Those teams lacked identity, and often, leadership. Veterans like Ron Mercer and Brad Miller came and went.
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Tyson Chandler and Eddy Curry were an experiment in frontcourt potential that fizzled out before it could flourish. Chicago became a franchise adrift, defined by potential and plagued by inconsistency.
Then, in 2008, the tide shifted.
The Bulls won the draft lottery despite having just a 1.7 percent chance at the top pick and selected Derrick Rose, the explosive hometown guard from Englewood. Rose didn’t just bring talent, he brought relevance. In 2011, he became the youngest MVP in league history at 22 and the Bulls finished with the best record in the league.
For the first time in over a decade, the post-Jordan Bulls were not defined by who they used to be but by who they were becoming.
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This story was originally reported by Basketball Network on Jul 6, 2025, where it first appeared.