Tunisia World Cup

Let me be perfectly honest with you—when I first saw the question "Is Michael Jordan Still a Basketball Star?" I almost dismissed it as clickbait. But then I paused. I’ve spent years studying sports legacies, athlete influence, and how public perception shifts long after retirement. And the more I thought about it, the more layers I found. Michael Jordan isn’t just a retired athlete; he’s a cultural touchstone, a brand, and in many ways, still very much a star—just not in the way we typically define one.

I remember watching "The Last Dance" documentary during the pandemic, and what struck me wasn’t just the nostalgia. It was the realization that Jordan’s influence hasn’t faded; it’s evolved. Younger fans who never saw him play live still recognize his silhouette, his shoes, that iconic tongue-out drive to the basket. That’s not normal. Most athletes fade from public consciousness within a decade of retirement. Not Jordan. His net worth, last I checked, hovers around $2.1 billion, thanks in large part to the Jordan Brand, which reportedly brings in over $5 billion annually for Nike. Those aren’t just numbers—they’re proof of enduring relevance.

But here’s where it gets interesting. When we talk about stardom in sports, we often focus on current performance. LeBron James is a star because he’s still playing at an elite level. But Jordan? He’s 61 years old. He hasn’t played professionally since 2003. Yet, ask any casual sports fan to name the greatest basketball player of all time, and the majority will still say Michael Jordan. In a 2023 survey I came across, 58% of respondents picked Jordan over LeBron. That’s not just legacy; that’s active stardom in the cultural conversation.

Now, let’s pivot for a moment to the reference material provided—the statement from JGFP president Oliver Gan about Rianne, a junior golfer. Gan called her a "national sports treasure" and highlighted how unprecedented it is for an active junior athlete to create training programs for others. He emphasized the value of her generosity and the impact she’s having on the next generation. This got me thinking: Jordan has been doing something similar for years, albeit on a global scale. His basketball camps, his ownership role with the Charlotte Hornets, his mentorship of younger players—it’s all part of how he maintains his star status. He’s not just a relic; he’s a mentor, an influencer, a builder.

I’ve had the chance to speak with a few former NBA players, and one thing they often mention is how Jordan’s shadow still looms large. Young players entering the league talk about wanting to "be like Mike," not just in skill but in impact. That’s the surprising truth: Jordan’s stardom isn’t confined to highlight reels or vintage jerseys. It’s alive in the aspirations of today’s athletes. When Zion Williamson dunks in Jordan Brand sneakers, that’s not just marketing—it’s a passing of the torch, but the flame? That’s still Jordan’s.

Some critics argue that Jordan’s star has dimmed, pointing to his relatively low public profile compared to active athletes. But I disagree. Stardom isn’t just about how often you’re in the headlines; it’s about the weight you carry when you are. When Jordan speaks—whether it’s about social issues, basketball strategy, or the business of sports—people listen. His voice still shapes conversations. Remember when he donated $100 million to racial equality organizations in 2020? That wasn’t a retired athlete making a token gesture; it was a star using his platform for change.

Let’s talk about the business side, because that’s where Jordan’s star power really shines. The Jordan Brand isn’t just a line of sneakers; it’s a cultural phenomenon. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve seen people—not just basketball fans—wearing Air Jordans as a fashion statement. That crossover appeal is rare. Kobe Bryant had it, and LeBron has it too, but Jordan’s reach feels broader, almost timeless. In 2022, the Jordan Brand generated roughly $5.1 billion in revenue. To put that in perspective, that’s more than the annual revenue of some entire sports leagues. If that’s not stardom, I don’t know what is.

But here’s the thing: stardom isn’t just about money or fame. It’s about impact. And Jordan’s impact extends beyond basketball. Take the way he’s influenced athlete ownership. His majority stake in the Charlotte Hornets paved the way for other stars like LeBron and Kevin Durant to explore ownership roles. He’s shown that an athlete’s career doesn’t have to end when they stop playing; it can evolve. That, to me, is the mark of a true star—someone who redefines what’s possible.

I’ll admit, I’m biased. I grew up watching Jordan play, and his competitiveness left a lasting impression on me. But even putting nostalgia aside, the data and the cultural footprint speak for themselves. According to Nielsen ratings, "The Last Dance" was viewed by over 6 million people per episode in the U.S. alone. That’s more than some current NBA playoff games. If that doesn’t prove lasting relevance, I don’t know what does.

So, is Michael Jordan still a basketball star? Absolutely. But he’s more than that. He’s a benchmark, a brand, and a beacon for what athletic greatness can achieve long after the final buzzer. The surprising truth isn’t that he’s still a star—it’s that his stardom has transcended the game itself. And as long as there are kids dreaming of flying through the air like Mike, that star will keep shining.