Do we need an MVP trophy to celebrate Michael Jordan?

As I recall, Michael Jordan used to accept his MVP trophies between tee times, a late spring ritual that intruded on more important matters, like winning another NBA title.

One such time the honor was squeezed into an ante room of a North Shore hotel, not that far from Jordan's house and near the Bulls' practice hall, convenient for all, but mostly for Jordan.

I am impressed by the irony of the renaming of the MVP trophy for Jordan, who could barely be bothered then and is now forever the symbol of basketball excellence.

Any arguments of Jordan vs. LeBron James or Magic Johnson or Kareem Abdul-Jabbar or Oscar Robertson (the nearest to Jordan, maybe better) are now settled. Jordan first, the rest with more specific leftovers - remember John Havlicek? The NBA does - and while James will have to quit playing to get his verification, I suggest a trophy for him shaped like a baggage check.

There was never any doubt that Jordan deserved every one of his five MVP souvenirs. He was the most valuable player in basketball even when he was playing baseball. That's two MVPs he didn't get. The trophy then was named for Maurice Podoloff, the creator of the NBA as well as the 24-second clock - which, as an aside, is something soccer could use.

The Podoloff Trophy - a name that never really caught on - was of a recognizable basketball figure, dribbling with his left hand, probably leading a fast break, looking more like a point guard than Podoloff, who was never a player, merely an entrepreneur, whereas Jordan has been both.

The new Jordan Trophy is presumably of a basketball player, too, though not in any recognizable way, a sleek effigy of a figure more likely to be an ice skater than a baller, all shiny and skinny, stretching up as if in the middle of a triple axel. You can almost hear the strains of "Scheherazade" wafting somewhere. There is no more resemblance to Jordan than an arrow to an angel.

We know what Jordan looks like even when he don't see him. He is on shoes and shirts and even baseball catcher's gear, all thanks to Nike, who got to memorialize Jordan before he was Jordan.

I once turned a corner in Weimar, an eastern German town only recently rejoined with the West, and came face to face with a life-size cutout of Jordan on display in a sporting goods store. Jordan was the only indication that it was a store, since the goods were spare, including Air Jordans, somehow sold out in a place that had no money.

The point is Jordan made it behind the Iron Curtain before the curtain was completely stored away. That's an MVP.

Trademarks and copyrights and assorted legal concerns doubtlessly are responsible for un-Jordanizing the Jordan Trophy, so that future winners will have to take the word of PR minions that this is who they say it is.

For example, secret design motifs are included to memorialize Jordan, such as a five-sided pedestal to represent Jordan's five MVP awards, and the trophy stands 23.6 inches tall to represent Jordan's jersey number and the six NBA championships.

The crystal basketball at the top of the trophy has 23 points (I haven't counted, but do not doubt the accuracy. Who would make up something like that?). It also measures 1.23 inches in diameter, representing what, I am not sure.

Jordan did, remember, also wear number 45, which is better forgotten but has since become a more valuable collector's item than the hallowed No. 23.

With all this secret Jordan stuff hidden in the trophy like so many kiwi seeds, it would seem that the trophy is not so much to honor each year's winner as to celebrate the Jordan legend, which, by the way, seems only to grow as the world figures out new ways not to forget him.

The habit of home crowds chanting "MVP! MVP!" for the favorite of the season is expected and encouraged. Never once in any arena has echoed the cry of "Podoloff! Podoloff!" but it is almost certain that in future throngs of NBA fans will urge MVP support for their own by chanting "Jordan! Jordan!"

Just like old times.