Failure Quotes Michael Jordan Novels & Stories

"Now, that's my Job Mr Spikes. We have our ways for someone as stubborn like him. All the strings, he thought he possessed have been severed. He is useless and he will surely be brought to book." Mr Jeff's eyes dilated in shock at his last statement. True enough, he had some influential connections at his disposal but it appears to him that he has been calling the wrong shots. This man called Thomas Jordan will most likely be his downfall. He gulped. He was sure unlucky. Who would have thought that the Jordans will get caught up in his affairs? Goddamn it!!

Some were beating for Qin Haodong and some for Li Meiyu. It was not until their figures had completely disappeared that earth-shaking screams of surprise broke out in the stadium. "Sh*t. What did I just see?" "A gliding splits dunk from the free throw line. Did Jordan come to our school?" "What are you talking about? He is obviously Chinese. Also, he is not as tall as Jordan..." "Where is the hero? Why did he leave? Please take my knee. In the future when playing basketball, I won't give in to anyone but him."

Before she could reply, Carl resumed, “Oh, you don’t watch it? That’s okay! Let me tell you why you should. First, it’s fast-paced, and there are so many strategies! Also, did you know the three-point line wasn’t always in the NBA? It was added in 1979!” Charlie, “...” “Did you know the highest-scoring NBA game ever was in 1983 when the Pistons beat the Nuggets 186 to 184? That’s crazy, right? That’s a total of 370 points! Most games don’t even break 250.” Charlie, “???” “Michael Jordan’s free throw percentage was 83.5%, but Steph Curry’s is over 90%. That means if they each took 100 free throws, Steph would make about 7 more shots than Jordan.”

“What are you saying, Jordan? Jasmine died in a plane crash. Eight years ago.” The room turned to stone. Jordan froze. Beth’s mouth parted, eyes wide. She glanced at Jordan as she might physically will him to say something—anything—smart. Sweat beaded at Jordan’s hairline. His tongue clicked uselessly against the roof of his mouth. The air was thick and unmoving. Michael stood slowly, like a judge rising from the bench. His smile was calm. Chilling. “Tea?” he asked. Beth stumbled forward, her voice brittle. “Maybe he just, like, forgets, you know? Obviously, with all the business things happening, and the West Coast plans and—”

My voice cracked. He froze. Guilt all over his face. His throat moved like he had something to say, but all I got was, "I'm sorry." Even now, with everything on the line, he picked silence over owning up to his stupid little test. No surprise. When I lost our first baby, he cried, then dumped me at some sketchy back-alley clinic. The crappy treatment wrecked my body. I've been hurting ever since. Even today, the doctor warned me:

"That's exactly what I want to tell you, Liam, stop trying because it is not going to work, whatever you say I am not going to listen to you, I have a life and even if it is not that great right now, I like it like this and I don't want the chaos again, the storm just settled I don't want to start another one that might end up destroying me, I can't do that, so no matter what you say, I am not coming back to you, just get that already," Jordan said and walked away, once again, it was a failed mission but he wasn't going to give up just because he failed, no, failure doesn't mean he couldn't achieve what he wanted, he just have to push hard enough and he would get it, with that in mind, he he

I could hear my own breathing, the squeak of shoes, the slap of the ball against the floor. This is where I belong, I thought. Not the interviews. Not the speculation. Not the commentary. Here. We won by nine. I finished with twenty-seven, eight assists, five steals. In the locker room, Jordan slapped me on the back like I’d personally resurrected his career. “You were locked in tonight,” he said. “Like… scary locked in.” I forced a grin. “Good scary or bad scary?” He laughed. “Depends who you ask.” The reporters asked the usual questions afterward. How did it feel to bounce back? What changed? Was I feeling pressure?

He stood, voice cracked. "Ten minutes." I sat, all business. "I know I deserve to die." Tears welled. "But please—listen." "Back in Boston... I was in a bad car crash. Out cold for a week." His voice shook. "When I woke up, Lily said she pulled me out. Her hands were bandaged... she even described my clothes. I—I thought she saved my life." I scoffed. "That's your excuse for stabbing me in the back?" "It's not. I was an idiot!" He dropped to his knees. "Emma, I lost everything. Just give me one more shot!"

~ "In the hoop, the damn hoop. Throw the ball in the fuckin hoop." As speculated before, I am not good at basketball. Even though this was my first try, I could tell I'm going nowhere far with this sport. Walter was already popping veins telling me what to do. I shot the ball to the hoop but it hit the metal ring around it and came rolling back to my feet. Walter looked at my failure for the nth time today and pinched the bridge of his nose with irritation. "How do you fight with this crappy hand-foot coordination?" he asked as he let out a sigh.

EZRA The seat was empty again. That made two days in a row. And this time, she had missed the preliminary test. That meant an automatic F. There was no wiggle room, no leniency. Not even if I wanted to give it—which I didn’t. Jacqueline Blackwell had earned this failure with bold, reckless determination. But even as I moved through the test instructions with my usual dispassion, I could feel her. She was here. Somewhere.