Few contracts in professional sports history have drawn as much fascination as that of Michael Jordan, the legendary guard whose 1984 deal with the Chicago Bulls included a clause almost unthinkable in today’s hyper-commercialized NBA: a “love of the game” promise.
When Jordan signed with the Bulls, the contract explicitly stipulated that he was “in love with the game,” not just chasing money. It allowed him the chance to play in open gyms or outdoors on concrete, something born from his adolescence.
Speaking with Mike Tirico for a special NBA series, Jordan explained exactly why he insisted on it being put in his deal.
“If I was driving with you down the street, and I saw a basketball game on the side of the road, I can go play in that basketball game, and if I get hurt, my contract is still guaranteed.” Jordan said.
“I love the game so much that I would never let someone take the opportunity for me to play the game, away from me.”
The clause signaled a relationship based on mutual respect between Jordan and Chicago. It’s certainly a far cry from today’s far-reaching endorsement deals, performance bonuses, and side agreements that dominate NBA contracts.
That’s not to say Jordan didn’t earn a substantial amount of money. He raked in $93.8 million in NBA salary during his career, with $30.1 million in the 1996-97 season and $33.1 million in the 1997-98 season alone.
But the clause kept him grounded, and embodied a simpler philosophy: that basketball at its most stripped-down level was something untouched by money.
Why it doesn’t exist today
Modern NBA contracts are legal, financial, and commercial frameworks built around a dense web of protections, incentives, and obligations.
Teams safeguard themselves against injury, conditioning, endorsement conflicts, and off-court conduct. Then there are other hoops to jump through, adhering to league rules, collective bargaining agreements, and agents’ negotiations.
In reality, it makes a pledge like ‘love for the game’ nearly impossible to enforce. There’s a good reason for this, however.
From a legal standpoint, a clause about passion is vague and unverifiable. What does it mean in cold legal or business terms? It could leave teams open to exposure or lawsuits if they are seen not to be living up to their end.
Financially, today’s athletes earn far more than in the 1980s, with contracts including performance-based incentives, image-rights clauses, and shoe deals.
Mixed with agents negotiating every possible guarantee, a sentimental clause simply doesn’t fit into the complex ecosystem of modern basketball.
Culturally, the NBA and its players have evolved. Careers are shorter, the gaps between games are fewer and stakes arguably higher due to the huge financial pressure.
What Jordan’s clause says about his era
In hindsight, Jordan‘s clause feels like a time capsule from a different era of professional sports, one where loyalty and competitive purity mattered more than multi-million dollar deals.
That’s not to say Jordan wasn’t handsomely rewarded, but he is widely considered as the greatest player to grace the game and deserved a contract that shouted loudly about his status as a six-time NBA champion and five-time MVP.
While most modern fans celebrate the growth of the sport and the wealth it has created, there’s something quietly admirable about that inclusion in his deal. It served as a reminder that at the heart of the NBA was built on passion, drive, and the love of competition.
But today, Jordan’s mentality lives in the background. Whether it’s early morning practices, offseason training or visits to local community centres, players are doing their bit to keep the magic alive. The late Kobe Bryant’s ‘Mamba’ philosophy serves as a good example of this.
And in that sense, Jordan‘s clause will remain legendary – not as a blueprint for future deals, but as an example to follow and a nostalgic memory of NBA basketball once stood for.
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