They don't know what it was like back then. They're all too young, they're basketball players, most of them probably don't even know of the time when the world changed on the single swivel of a pair of hips. Gordon Stoker saw it all, though. He sat at the piano in concert halls and arenas all over the country, watching in awe as this shy young man suddenly transformed, shaking and twisting and sending women screeching into the aisles. They kept going, pushing higher and higher until the whole planet exploded into a jangle of noise and they had started a revolution. By then the shy young man was so big, he didn't need to use the last name anymore. Elvis Presley was just Elvis. "And it was a wonderful life," said Stoker of the Jordanaires who for nearly two decades would be immortalized on every record produced by the King as 'Elvis Presley and the Jordanaires.' No, they don't know about any of this in the black cinderblock locker room of the Washington Wizards. All they realize is that their world has changed, exploding in a blast of light from photographers and television cameras and people tromping on their clothes and through the room, all because of the man in the corner.

A man so big he can't even change into his blue basketball togs along with them, instead having to go off to a private room. The moment he sits down and even dares to touch the knot on his tie or unbutton his exquisite hand-tailored suits, a dozen photographers will swoop in with their shutters chattering.

Thus the rest of them are left to deal with the mess.

And this man too has long lost his surname in public, no longer needing the Jordan to differentiate himself from the millions of other "Michaels." Only his teammates don't quite embrace their new national billing as "Michael Jordan and the Jordanaires" the way the previous Jordanaires did. It's too demeaning to them, it sounds too much like "Mouseketeers."

"Nobody on this team considers themselves a Jordanaire," says forward Richard Hamilton with a dismissive shake of his head.

It is hard for them because they were nothing. The NBA barely knew they were there. Some people even mistook them for an expansion franchise after the name was changed from Bullets to Wizards a few years back. Television never found them. They were anonymous in their 19-victory seasons until the team's part-owner decided he wanted to play. And given that the part-owner is the greatest basketball player who ever played, well they would be forgotten no more. Yes, it's an honor. Yes, it's a privilege, but. ...