Jordan vs. Beckham

It was called Placencia, a town on the coast of Belize. The diving nuts would stay there as a base camp before sailing off to wherever the real underwater vistas were located. Otherwise, it was a coastal city with some resorts (Coppola had one there), many ex-pats soaking up sun, and a single road through whatever parts of town weren't knocked over by the occasional hurricane that roared over them.

The road was dotted with local markets, clothing shops, municipal buildings, and a school. What it didn't have were many traces of American commercialization. Sure, there were Coca-Cola signs everywhere, but the nearest McDonald's was probably back at the airport. Unlike other tourist destinations, walking through Placencia didn't feel like walking through an international suburb of New York or Los Angeles. There was something charmingly pristine about it.

And then I saw the basketball court.

Located near the school, it was a long rectangle of dirt with two makeshift backboards and hoops on either end — the sort of D.I.Y. court that flashes by quickly when the NBA does one of its "the whole world loves this game!" self-wanking television ad campaigns. On this day, it was populated with a few local boys, doing their best to dribble on the bumpy terrain. Some wore jeans and a t-shirt, their friend did not.

He was wearing black mesh shorts with a NIKE swoosh, and a red Chicago Bulls road jersey with "Jordan 23" on the back.

No Exxon station, Mountain Dew, Coors Light, FedEx, Ford dealerships, Applebees, Ruby Tuesdays, TGI Fridays, Subways, or The Gap. But there, right in front of me, a Michael Jordan fan.

Sure, it could have been an artifact collected from an American Goodwill pile, delivered to the impoverished region.

Or maybe this kid caught a glimpse of a Bulls game on the satellite dish, or a dunk on a VHS tape that finally found its way to the local video store (a shack that had about 60 movies, all of them dubbed from original copies). Maybe, despite having been about as far removed from NBA action as Jonathan Bender, this kid found a way to fall under Air Jordan's spell.

I relay this tale, dear patient readers, as a prelude to the larger point of this column, which centers around the completely asinine comments of someone named Candy on the SportsFanMagazine.com comment boards. Candy could be a random female sports fan or it could be Frank Deford (I vote for the latter), but identity wouldn't change the utter absurdity of the following comment she/he left on an article about David Beckham:

"Beckham is already bigger worldwide than Woods and M.J., I meant I would not be surprised if he surpasses them here in the U.S.."

The "Woods" is Tiger, and I don't doubt that; soccer is still able to penetrate parts of the world that professional golf does not. My point of contention is, of course, with the notion that David Beckham was, is, or will be bigger than Michael Jordan here or abroad.

Candy's not alone, as I found a few hundred Google hits for Beckham and "bigger than Michael Jordan." This isn't meant to demean soccer or its fans, or to say Beckham isn't a star of a rare magnitude; but claiming he eclipses Jordan's fame is bat-crap, get-the-straightjacket-ready crazy.

English soccer, as well as international soccer, wasn't exactly hurting when Beckham entered the fray. Contrast that with Jordan, whose fame carried the NBA to levels of success previously thought to be unattainable, transforming a popular league into an international juggernaut. Michael sold the networks, broadcast and cable, in a way Magic and Bird did not. The selling of Jordan as a player/product remains one of the singular advancements in sports marketing history; those endorsement deals waiting for Beckham in Los Angeles are there because Michael showed the world that athletes belonged someplace other than beer commercials on your television screen.

Wayne Gretzky — a guy who knows a thing or two about coming to California to sell a marginal American sport — told the L.A. Times recently that Beckham's "got as much charisma as Tiger Woods." I'll take Wayne's word on that, but would love to ask him whether Becks has as much charisma as Jordan did.

Let's not confuse sex appeal with charm; otherwise, Scarlett Johansson would be the new Meg Ryan. Beckham has a body by Zeus and is an appealing, gentlemanly sort. That doesn't mean he could pull off the cinematic classic that is "Space Jam." Or that he'd have the humility that Jordan showed on "Saturday Night Live," cracking himself up in a mirror during a Stuart Smalley sketch. Beckham's English fans will likely claim he has Jordan-esque charisma ... but they're the same people who claim Robbie Williams had charisma, too, and he's about as charming as a stab wound.

Jordan's fame never needed the tabloid crutch that Beckham's has. Every story about his arrival in America is about Posh and Becks. While I'll give him credit for bagging the only Spice Girl I ever considered diddling (the one who could sing was too much of a tomboy, and I think I saw the really sexy one topless before "Wannabe" even charted), this super-couple act means a constant shared spotlight. Jordan never had that problem — not even with Scottie Pippen.

Beckham's first official MLS game is July 31 in Dallas against FC Dallas. It will be met by national media attention, fanaticism by the soccer faithful, and intense curiosity from casual fans. FC Dallas general manager Michael Hitchcock even made the Jordan comparison to the Associated Press recently: "This is the first time, as a league and as a team, we've had the equivalent of a Michael Jordan coming to play."

Why do I get the feeling Michael Jordan has never been called "the equivalent of a David Beckham?"

And right there's your subtle difference between an icon and a legend.

Greg Wyshynski is the Features Editor for SportsFan Magazine in Washington, DC, and the Senior Sports Editor for The Connection Newspapers of Northern Virginia. His book is "Glow Pucks and 10-Cent Beer: The 101 Worst Ideas in Sports History." His columns appear every Saturday on Sports Central. You can e-mail Greg at [email protected].