The bathroom reeked of urine.
In a US military base gymnasium in Germany, where there was no dedicated changing room, the plain bathroom doubled as a makeshift changing area.
Inside was a long bench, and not far from it, an old-fashioned metal trough urinal, with uric scale left by the soldiers relieving themselves.
The pungent smell of urine emanated from the uric scale, the ammonia stinging the nostrils, making it difficult to breathe and almost bringing tears to one's eyes after a mere moment.
Yet Michael Jordan sat quietly on the bench, removing his jacket to reveal his metallic-gleaming black muscles, his body devoid of an ounce of excess fat.
His hands were dribbling a basketball, the ball moving back and forth beneath his legs with a pounding echo, but his upper body did not move an inch; he simply used his large hands and strong fingers to flick the ball, letting it swing back and forth in a regular, repetitive pendulum motion.
