After Willie Green finished his last sentence, he fell silent and swallowed. He knew what was coming next: a blistering tirade.
Knowing Jordan's temperament, he might even drag his ancestors out of their graves and whip them.
It wouldn't have been the first time.
And he completely understood why Jordan would tear into him. As a coach, he'd made a unilateral decision without informing the owner or the fans, putting the entire home court on the line. He'd taken things way too far.
But instead of a tirade, all he got was a long silence.
In Willie Green's eyes, that silence was far more terrifying than being chewed out.
The greatest fear of all was fear of the unknown.
If you screamed at me, at least I'd know you were angry. At least I'd be able to feel the full force of your anger.
And usually, after an owner chewed you out, they'd just tell you to do better next time or impose some kind of punishment.
Those were all things you could anticipate.
But this kind of silence was the most frightening.
They said that before making major decisions, Jordan would often fall silent for a long time.
Afterward, a single word from him could cost dozens of employees their jobs.
Or one sentence could destroy a contract worth tens of millions.
Now, Willie Green couldn't begin to imagine what Jordan's silence meant.
The worst outcome he could imagine was that, after this long silence, Jordan would fire him on the spot.
There'd never been a precedent in NBA history of a coach being fired during the Playoffs, especially during the Finals. But who could guarantee that Jordan wouldn't set such a precedent?
He'd set plenty of them before.
The biggest problem was that Jordan knew basketball. It wasn't