Retired Coach Who Once Trained Jordan Now Struggles to Eat—MJ’s Next Move Stuns Everyone

The Greatest Assist

At 78 years old, Vernon “Vern” Wilkins sat alone in his cold apartment, staring at an empty refrigerator. Once a respected assistant coach for the Chicago Bulls, who helped shape Michael Jordan’s legendary shooting form, Vern now faced the harsh realities of poverty and loneliness. His pension barely covered the rent, and he often had to choose between heart medication and food.

.

.

.

The walls of his rundown apartment told a different story. They were adorned with photographs of championship teams and newspaper clippings of basketball glory. One special picture showed a young Vern standing beside Michael Jordan, teaching him the perfect shooting technique: elbow in, follow through, trust the arc.

Vern’s life had taken a turn after he left the Bulls to coach high school basketball. He wanted to be closer to his family, especially his wife Marlene, who had wanted to raise their daughter Tanya in a quieter town. Those years at Riverdale High were fulfilling, filled with small victories and the joy of molding young minds. But life had not been kind. Marlene’s battle with cancer drained their savings, and a stroke left Vern with a limp and trembling hands, making coaching impossible.

As Vern sat in his apartment, memories flooded back. He remembered the long hours spent with Jordan, the young player’s determination to perfect his shot. Vern had seen something special in Jordan, a raw talent that needed guidance. It was a time when Vern felt truly alive, contributing to something greater than himself.

But now, with eviction looming, Vern faced a choice. Would he swallow his pride and accept help? His daughter Tanya, who had her own family to worry about, was desperate to help him. And then there was the GoFundMe campaign started by his former players, which had already raised thousands. Yet, Vern’s pride held him back. He didn’t want to be seen as a charity case.

The turning point came when a young sports reporter discovered Vern’s dire situation and published his story. The article went viral overnight. Former players rallied with donations, but Vern’s pride wouldn’t let him accept charity. Then came an unexpected phone call from a deep, familiar voice he hadn’t heard in over 20 years. It was Michael Jordan.

“Coach, why didn’t you call me?” Jordan asked. “We need to talk face to face.”

Jordan’s private jet touched down, and he arrived with more than just a check. He had a plan that would change everything, not just for Vern, but for countless young basketball players for generations to come.

As Vern sat in his apartment, the memories flooded back. He remembered the day he left the Bulls to coach high school basketball, the joy of shaping young minds, and the pain of losing his wife Marlene to cancer. The stroke three years ago had left him with a limp and trembling hands, making coaching impossible.

But now, with eviction looming, Vern faced a choice. Would he swallow his pride and accept help? His daughter Tanya, who had her own family to worry about, was desperate to help him. And then there was the GoFundMe campaign started by his former players, which had already raised thousands.

The day before his eviction, Vern received another call. This time, it was Jordan’s personal assistant, arranging a meeting. The next morning, Jordan’s car service arrived to take Vern to a private airfield. Onboard the jet, Jordan explained his plan: the Vernon Wilkins Basketball Academy, a state-of-the-art facility for underprivileged kids, with Vern as its director.

Vern was overwhelmed. This wasn’t charity; it was an opportunity to coach again, to make a difference. Jordan had even arranged for a permanent endowment from the proceeds of the Jumpman logo, which Vern had helped inspire.

But just as hope seemed within reach, Vern suffered a heart attack. Rushed to the hospital, he realized how close he’d come to losing everything. As he recovered, the outpouring of support from former players, friends, and even strangers reminded him that he wasn’t alone.

With Tanya by his side, Vern embraced the second chance he’d been given. He returned to the community center, where he began working with young players like Deshawn, who reminded him so much of a young Jordan. The academy would take time to build, but the work had already begun.

At the press conference announcing the academy, Vern spoke from the heart. “Basketball has given me everything,” he said. “This academy isn’t just about creating NBA stars; it’s about teaching young people that discipline, hard work, and believing in yourself matter on and off the court.”

As he stepped back from the podium, the room erupted in applause. Jordan shook his hand, and Vern felt a profound sense of peace. From the brink of eviction to this moment, it had been an incredible journey.

The greatest assist had led to the final shot—a shot that would change countless lives. Vern realized that sometimes, the game isn’t over. There’s still time on the clock for one more play. And with the support of those around him, he was ready to make it count.

In the weeks that followed, Vern settled into his new role at the community center. The temporary setup allowed him to connect with the kids, to teach and inspire them with the same passion he once shared with Jordan. He saw himself in these young players, their eagerness to learn, their dreams of greatness.

The academy’s construction was underway, and Vern was actively involved in planning the programs and curriculum. He worked closely with Jordan’s team, ensuring that the academy would be a place where young athletes could thrive, regardless of their background.

One afternoon, as Vern watched Deshawn practice, he felt a sense of fulfillment he hadn’t experienced in years. The boy’s jump shot had improved remarkably, and Vern knew he was making a difference. This was his purpose, his legacy.

The community rallied around the academy, with former players volunteering their time and expertise. The GoFundMe campaign continued to grow, providing additional resources for the academy’s future. Vern’s story had touched hearts, inspiring people to give back, to support a cause greater than themselves.

As the academy neared completion, Vern reflected on the journey that had brought him here. From the depths of despair to a place of hope and renewal, he had learned the true meaning of resilience and community. He had rediscovered his passion for coaching, his love for the game, and his belief in the power of sports to transform lives.

On the day of the academy’s grand opening, Vern stood beside Jordan, surrounded by friends, family, and supporters. As they cut the ribbon, Vern knew that this was just the beginning. The Vernon Wilkins Basketball Academy would stand as a testament to the power of perseverance, the impact of mentorship, and the enduring spirit of a coach who never gave up.

Play video:

In the end, Vern realized that the greatest assist wasn’t just about basketball. It was about life, about lifting others up, about passing on the lessons he’d learned to the next generation. And as he watched the young players take to the court, he knew that his legacy was secure, his story far from over.