Walter LaFeber's new book, his eighth, is bountifully nutritious despite its brevity. One gets a history of basketball, the story of sneaker development, a bio of Michael Jordan, the saga of Nike's ascendancy, and a gee-whiz analysis of the new transnational economics and of American popular cultural imperialism abetted by fiber-optic cable TV. What is more, the book prompts sober reflections on the ethics of "free" market labor practices and on the stupendous idiocy of endorsements--how, for a billion gullible suckers, Jordan somehow endows shoes, Wheaties, Hanes underwear, Coca-Cola, Gatorade, and corn flakes with his excellence.
LaFeber's awe of Jordan can be infectious, since Jordan's basketball exploits are truly astonishing. But one may question some of LaFeber 's encomiums. Cassius Clay/Muhammad Ali matched Jordan's global fame. And for athletic prowess, the argument for Babe Ruth's number- one ranking endures. In the 1920s and early 1930s, all American athletic talent was channeled into professional baseball. There was nothing comparable, no basketball, negligible pro football, really no mass popular sport--and no television. Ruth dominated on both offense and defense, early on not only as the best pitcher but as the greatest hitter. Unique.
LaFeber's sneaker story is a beaut. He tells how Phil Knight, genius founder of Nike in the 1960s, studied the efforts of his Oregon track coach, Bill Bowerman, to produce a lighter track shoe, scientifically calculating that if one ounce could be shaved from the shoe's weight, the runner would be freed of 550 pounds during a mile race. Knight, at Stanford Business School, wrote up an analysis of how profitable it would be to import cheap but good Japanese running shoes, then sell them in the United States. Later he went to Kobe to see the producers of the inexpensive Tiger running shoe. He and Bowerman then bought the company and started selling the Tiger shoes from their automobile at track meets.
