As ESPN continues to roll out The Last Dance, GQ staffers will make their cases for the ultra-cool doc’s most stylish moments.
I have not enthusiastically or even voluntarily watched a sports game in over 20 years, but I have religiously kept up with The Last Dance for two reasons. The topic happens to coincide with the short-lived period of my childhood when I became a basketball fan in an attempt to impress my father (don’t worry, this isn’t that kind of essay), while the release happens to coincide with a global pandemic that has kept me, along with the rest of the documentary’s record-setting audience, trapped inside the house with no option but to watch all of television in its entirety. The stars, aligning just so, have provided me with a third reason: Phil Jackson. And, by extension, Phil Jackson’s fits.
My unlikely quarantine obsession took root during