It’s Time for Jordan to Say His Goodbyes

Thanks, Mike. Now, goodbye. Please.

This second time around for Michael Jordan has been good.

It has brought those of us who thrilled to every Jordan slam, who got goose bumps at every Jordan miracle, who found satisfaction in watching a great athlete give paying fans their money’s worth every single night, some closure.

Against the uninterested, disorganized Clippers, Jordan came up with 23 points, 12 assists, six rebounds.

He’s not awful. He’s still above average.

But he’s also gone. Jordan has been gone for these two seasons he has played for the Washington Wizards.

The real Jordan, the greatest basketball player ever, that Jordan, was the one who gave the nudge, then hit the fallaway over Bryon Russell. It is not the Jordan who stumbles and gets lost in the air and looks to whip the ball to the same Russell, a teammate now, and who needs this Russell to bail him out.

Jordan came to Staples Center on Wednesday night. He still draws a crowd.

The 20,578 came not to bury Jordan but to praise him. Even in the midst of torrential rain and even against the sad-sack Clippers, Staples was full, only the fourth sellout of the season for the home team.

There were fans wearing Jordan’s No. 23 jersey -- of the Wizard variety, the Chicago Bull variety, even the Carolina blue variety. This is not expected to be Jordan’s final appearance here. The Wizards come back March 28 to play the Lakers. But Jordan does turn 40 Monday and there’s no guarantee that his muscles and ligaments and joints and bones won’t tear or strain or sprain or break.

So the fans paid their tributes, they stood when Jordan was introduced. Some shouted his name in praise. Some shouted in sarcasm. “I wanna be like Mike, be like Mike.” It was a mimic of the old commercial and it came after Jordan had been left helpless by Eric Piatkowski, who scored a three-pointer easily over Jordan. Or, “You should have retired 10 years ago.”

The crowd stood even longer, at the end, when Jordan fouled out with 18.4 seconds left. For a good 30 seconds the fans stood and yelled and clapped. Jordan smiled. Afterward Jordan said he hadn’t really fouled out. “I only had five, they gave me one that wasn’t mine,” he said. “If we’d gone to overtime, I would have gotten it corrected.” No one can ever tell another when to quit and Jordan can still bring a crowd to its feet for more than a nostalgic “thank you, and farewell.”

There was a steal and a layup. There was a play in the first quarter where Jordan, palming the ball, stuck it into the face of Corey Maggette, pulled it back, thrust it forward, then made a spin move and lost Maggette forever it seemed like. Jordan needs that much space now, forever space, to make a shot and he made this one.

Jordan did the same thing to Quentin Richardson in the third quarter and then hit a 14-foot fallaway from far in the corner as the shot clock was about to run out. Jordan gave us his smile, the big, famous, slightly shy, a bit surprised, a little amazed smile and the crowd stood again. Maggette and Richardson were high school stars in Chicago in Michael’s Bull heyday.

So it’s not all awful, ground-bound, slow-footed, clankers. Which is mostly what Jordan offered in the first half when he was two of 11 from the field and kept hitting hard the same spot on the front rim with his short-armed shots.

Jordan still gets enjoyment from the game -- he wagged his tongue and smiled hugely when Tyronn Lue accepted a Jordan pass for a breakaway layup and all of Staples smiled with him -- but every great play seems an unexpected diamond in a dull pile of five-for-20s or 11-point, two-assist nights.

The great Michael is in our minds now, more a faded photograph to be taken out, dusted off, admired and maybe applauded, then put away. We can wish for others to come along and take his place.

On this night at Staples,

Jordan was playing in a game that went untelevised in Los Angeles.

So many monitors on press row were tuned to the Laker game while Kobe Bryant was scoring 51 points in 31 minutes.

That’s how it used to be with Jordan. Now it’s Kobe we watch.

It’s Michael we appreciate and honor and smile at, and with.

That’s not bad.

“Life doesn’t end you know,” Jordan said after this game.

“I’m not dying.”

By returning to the game this last time, though, Jordan made it feel as if he was sometimes. It hurts to watch a great athlete, through the natural way of things, become more like everybody else.

Jordan shouldn’t be anybody else.

This wasn’t a comeback for Jordan the last two years. It wasn’t possible for the Jordan we’ll all remember to come back. It has been a prolonged farewell. It has been a chance for all of us, including Jordan, to accept that it’s over.

Goodbye.

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Diane Pucin can be reached at diane.pucin@latimes.com.