I never thought a number could rewrite my understanding of greatness—until I saw Jordan’s shadow stretch across decades. As a Chicago-born INTJ, I read basketball not as sport but as emotional architecture. That one stat—the 1998 Finals miss—didn’t break him, it broke my illusions. This isn’t about legends. It’s about the silence between pixels and passion. What if the bench warms up… and you realize the game was never meant to be won by stats alone?