Michael Jordan had returned to Wilmington, North Carolina, expecting nostalgia. He had imagined walking through the halls of Emsley A. Laney High School, revisiting memories of his youth and the court that had shaped him. But what he didn’t expect was to find an old friend still working—his high school janitor, Mr. James Wilson, now 80 years old, still mopping the gym floors.

The moment stopped Michael in his tracks. The man who had encouraged him after he was cut from the varsity team, who had unlocked the gym doors at dawn so he could practice, who had given him quiet words of encouragement when he needed them most—was still here, still working, decades later.

Michael approached cautiously, memories flooding back. “Mr. Wilson?” he said, voice laced with disbelief.

The old janitor looked up, his sharp eyes squinting. “Gym’s closed for volleyball practice, sir—” Then he paused, studying the man before him. “Wait a minute. Little Mike Jordan?”

Michael grinned. “Not so little anymore, Mr. Wilson.”

They embraced, and as they pulled apart, Michael couldn’t help but ask, “You’re still working here? After all these years?”

Mr. Wilson nodded. “Forty-seven years next month.”

Michael swallowed. “But… you’re 80.”

“Got nowhere else to be,” Mr. Wilson said with a shrug. “And the school still needs cleaning.”

Michael was silent, the weight of those words pressing into him. He thought back to his own journey—the six championships, the fortune, the fame—and then looked at the man who had played a small but pivotal role in shaping him. A man who had never sought recognition, never asked for anything in return.

“Join me for dinner tonight?” Michael asked. “I’d love to catch up.”

Mr. Wilson hesitated but finally nodded. “Nothing fancy, though. These old bones don’t do well in fancy chairs.”

Michael chuckled. “I know just the place.”

That night, over burgers and chocolate milkshakes at a local diner, Michael learned about Mr. Wilson’s life. He heard about Martha, his wife of nearly sixty years, who had suffered a stroke three years ago. How their home wasn’t built for a wheelchair, how medical bills had eaten through their savings. How he was still working not because he wanted to, but because he had to.

As Michael listened, something inside him shifted. He knew he had to do something. No, he would do something.

The next morning, Michael made calls—business partners, contractors, financial advisors. He set a plan in motion, a transformation that would change Mr. Wilson’s life in ways the janitor could never have imagined.

Over the next week, while Michael arranged for a vacation retreat for Mr. Wilson and Martha, a team of workers descended upon their home. The old, narrow doorways were widened for wheelchair access. A new ramp replaced the crumbling steps. The bathroom was redesigned with a roll-in shower and handrails. The kitchen was outfitted with lowered countertops so Martha could cook again. Even the bedroom was redone with a state-of-the-art adjustable bed, so Mr. Wilson would never have to sleep on the floor again.

But Michael didn’t stop there. He established a trust fund that would allow Mr. Wilson to retire immediately, covering all their living and medical expenses for the rest of their lives. And then he did something even more extraordinary—he created a foundation in Mr. Wilson’s name, dedicated to honoring and supporting school staff who, like him, had quietly shaped young lives behind the scenes.

The day of the reveal, Michael stood outside the newly renovated house, heart pounding. The community had gathered, former students, neighbors, teachers, all eager to celebrate the man who had given so much without asking for anything in return.

As the car pulled up, Mr. Wilson and Martha emerged, their faces a mix of confusion and awe. Michael stepped forward. “Welcome home, Mr. Wilson.”

Their jaws dropped as they took in the sight of their transformed home. Tears welled in Martha’s eyes as she wheeled herself effortlessly through the widened doorway. Mr. Wilson’s hands shook as he touched the new countertops, as he ran his fingers over the framed photographs of students he had once helped, now proudly displayed in his own home.

Then Michael handed him a folder. “This house is yours, free and clear,” he said. “No mortgage, no worries. And this—” he pointed to another document, “—this ensures you’ll never have to work another day in your life unless you want to.”

Mr. Wilson’s eyes filled with tears. “Michael… this is too much.”

Michael shook his head. “No. It’s not enough. Not for everything you’ve given to me, to so many others.”

And then Michael showed him the last surprise—the foundation created in his name.

“You spent your life opening doors for others, Mr. Wilson,” Michael said softly. “Now it’s your turn to have a door opened for you.”

As the crowd applauded and embraced the stunned janitor, Michael felt something he hadn’t in years—not the thrill of winning, not the pride of success, but something deeper. A sense of true purpose.

Because at that moment, he knew: championships fade, fortunes come and go, but the legacy of kindness? That lasts forever.

Shaq says Gregg Popovich gave him shoes when he was ‘growing up’ in San Antonio

Coach Pop has always been a giving person.

Shaquille O’Neal shared a story on TNT about how Gregg Popovich gave him shoes when he was a kid in San Antonio.

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The more stories that come out about Coach Pop, the more I miss seeing him at the end of the bench on any given night.

It’s been nearly four months since the San Antonio Spurs have seen Gregg Popovich on the floor of the Frost Bank Center. The NBA’s all-time winningest coach (at 1,412 wins over a nearly three-decade career, but who’s counting) has been absent from the sidelines since suffering what the team called a “mild stroke” on November 2, 2024.

And despite hope from Spurs fans that Coach Pop could make some sort of comeback before the end of the 2025 season, ESPN’s Shams Charania reported Saturday, February 22 he “is not expected to return this season, and his NBA future is uncertain.” Charania broke the news only days after the Spurs announced Victor Wembanyama had deep vein thrombosis and was ruled out for the remainder of the season.

Head coach Gregg Popovich of the San Antonio Spurs looks on against the Golden State Warriors during the fourth quarter of an NBA basketball game at Chase Center on March 31, 2023 in San Francisco.

Thearon W. Henderson/Getty Images

The news on Coach Pop’s absence going forward prompted a short tribute from the TNT Tuesday night crew on Tuesday, February 25 during post game of the Los Angeles Lakers and Dallas Mavericks game. Host Adam Lefkoe highlighted what the Spurs coach means to the NBA and USA basketball, then talked about the “dynasty” Popovich created before he handed the baton to Shaquille O’Neal.

Shaq, who spent some his teenage years in San Antonio, said Coach Pop did something for him he never talked about when he was in high school, and at the time, Popovich was an assistant coach with the Spurs.

“Growing up, [I] couldn’t really afford a lot of shoes so my father went to the Spurs organization because they had a guy – Chuck Nevitt – who had size 20 [shoes],” O’Neal said. “My father had a conversation with Coach Popovich. Coach Popovich gave him three pairs of shoes. So I’ve always loved him and respected him for that. And I’d rather see him healthy, and alive and here on Earth rather than coaching so.”

O’Neal than finished his thought by looking at the camera and speaking to Popovich. “Coach we love you, get well soon. We respect you; we appreciate you,” he said before turning to the crew. “He’s already done enough for the game, I’d rather just see him healthy.

“I remember that day in San Antonio you gave me those shoes coach, I appreciate you very much,” O’Neal added.

Another day, another reason to love Popovich. You can see the full segment below: