Scottsdale, Ariz. -- The unassuming young Orioles pitching prospect looked around and felt as if he were standing inside his television watching a fantasy world come to life.
There he was, Brian Sackinsky -- Pittsburgh-raised and Stanford-schooled -- invited to the same turf as Michael Jordan, Willie Mays, Stan Musial and Spike Lee, alias Mars Blackman, filming a Nike commercial. Hollywood and Cooperstown merging right there at Scottsdale Stadium, home to six Orioles prospects playing for the Scottsdale Scorpions.
Don't tell Sackinsky that Michael Jordan has no place in baseball. Don't tell him Jordan has blasphemed the national pastime and crashed a party.
Don't tell any of this to Sackinsky and the rest of Jordan's Scorpions teammates. Don't tell them, because they don't want to hear it. They are enjoying teaming with Jordan in the Arizona Fall League, a six-team league that features six top prospects from all 28 major-league teams and one non-prospect retired from the Chicago Bulls.
Is there any precedent for the worst player in a professional sports league doubling as the biggest drawing card? Better question: Why not?
Jordan is having a ball, making money for baseball, working his heart out in the midst of a work stoppage. Why is the world's best basketball player battling astronomical odds in an effort to become a major-league baseball player?
Better to ask: Why not?
"I think he's really, really enjoying just being one of the guys," Sackinsky said. "It seems like he's having a great time."
The camaraderie suits Jordan.
"In baseball, you spend a lot more time in the clubhouse," Jordan said. "You have a little more time to relax and to get to know the guys. In basketball, you are in and out. In baseball, you get to know each other a little better."
Why does baseball allow Jordan to fulfill his fantasy?
Better to ask: Why not?
On at least two fronts, Jordan promotes baseball. First, here is a man who has a surplus of money, celebrity, famous friends, a man so bored with reality he dreams the impossible dream, a man who could pursue any fantasy he wanted, and what does he choose? Baseball.
Second, with each swing of his bat, the athlete whose name is synonymous with winning proves just how difficult, how defeating, baseball can be.
"This has been a very humbling experience for me," Jordan said. "Ultimately, I want to make it to the big leagues, but who knows if I have the qualifications to make it? I want to compete to get there. I want to be there because I've been successful, not just get there from a token standpoint to sell tickets. I don't want to just be an attraction. I want to earn it."
His chances of earning a trip to the majors sheerly on merit are nil, according to scouts with enough guts to speak honestly.
Former major-leaguer Dave Roberts, who scouts on the amateur and professional levels for the Detroit Tigers, is known throughout the game for his keen eye for talent.
"If he were 20 years old, you might sign him out of a tryout camp because he's an above-average runner," Roberts said. "But he's got a long swing. He's got a slow bat. He throws well below average. His instincts in the outfield are bad, and he doesn't have any power. Obviously, he's not here for his ability."
Roberts gives Jordan higher grades in the attitude department.
"I admire him for his stick-to-itiveness," Roberts said. "He'progressed since spring training, when he had that one-handed, real long swing. He's shortened it up. At least in batting practice he can hit OK now."
In games, well, Jordan has three extra-base hits in 95 at-bats, which projects to 17 extra-base hits in 552 at-bats.
"He has no explosiveness in his hands, no hand speed," Roberts said. "You have to be able to recognize a breaking ball, wait and explode on it. He doesn't have that, and that's not really something you can learn. You're born with it. You don't see a guy who's 6-6 with no power making it. You might as well put Tom Selleck out there. Now, that's a baseball swing."
Jordan is batting .242, a very soft .242.
"Most of his hits are on 2-0, 3-1 counts or on the first pitch," Roberts said. "When he knows he's getting a fastball, he can time his swing and make contact. He's making contact on counts most guys are driving the ball."
At least he's trying. And trying hard. For that, teammates respect him.
"I wish people would put themselves in his shoes," Orioles outfield prospect Curtis Goodwin said. "He's just trying something different. If a lawyer wanted to switch and become a doctor, nobody would be crying about him cutting somebody up to try to save their life."
Goodwin said he and Jordan have become friends and have passed many hours watching television.
"Sometimes, I'll be sitting at his house, and I'll be thinking, 'Wow, I know MJ,' " Goodwin said. "Then he'll come here and put his uniform on and he's got to perform just like everyone else. He's teaching us how to handle pressure, and he works very hard."
Jordan is both teacher and pupil.
"In some ways, I feel like the elder spokesman who they respect and can look up to for advice," Jordan said. "In other ways, I feel like the rookie who needs advice."
Said Goodwin: "Alex [Ochoa] has helped him out with his arm, and I've helped him out a little on base stealing."
Jordan, who weathered the lengthy bus rides of the Southern League playing for the Chicago White Sox Double-A affiliate in Birmingham, Ala., said he hasn't socialized a great deal at the local club scene with fellow Scorpions.
"I've done that some, but not much," Jordan said. "They're a lot younger than I am. They can't get in the places where I go."
Ultimately, they all want to get to the same place, the major leagues. If his name weren't Jordan, he wouldn't have a shot at getting there. But the man can sell tickets. Eighty percent of the paying customers at the Arizona Fall League have purchased tickets to Scorpions games.
"The people are coming because of what I've done in basketball, and I guess this is the closest they can get to me," Jordan said.
In contrast to his basketball days, the closer the vantage point, the more human he looks.