“I perform like Mike, any one — Tyson, Jordan, Jackson…” – The Notorious B.I.G on “Victory”

I grew up in the 80s and 90s, and because of that I also grew up watching arguably the three biggest superstars of that era. The Three Mikes: Michael Jackson, Michael Jordan and Mike Tyson. I’m not sure there have ever been three people who, in their prime, were so ridiculously good at what they did. Because of that, their first names and the era they shared, they will forever be connected.

Michael Jackson was the most famous person on the planet at one time. 13 Grammy Awards. 13 No. 1 singles as a solo artist. 750 million records sold worldwide. “Billie Jean” is perhaps the greatest pop song ever. The music video to “Thriller” is probably the G.O.A.T. as well. 47 million people peeped the debut of “the Moonwalk” during the Motown special back in ‘84. Look, we called him “the King of Pop,” but at one point he might as well have been King of the World. If you ask me, in his prime M.J. was even better than that other King — Elvis.

People like to pull comparisons out of their asses, but there will never be another Michael Jordan. The bald head. The tongue-wagging. The shoes, which were cool, but it wasn’t the shoes. There’s never been an athlete who’s been better at his/her respective sport than his Airness was at basketball. Six NBA titles. Five MVPs. More shoes sold than McDonald’s hamburgers. If you want to know who’s responsible for the globalization of basketball, look no further than the original Dream Team’s brightest star. Air Jordan is the greatest athlete of all time. Period.

Mike Tyson was the Baddest Man on the Planet. He didn’t get that moniker by accident.  The boxing bulldog in the black trunks beat down one fighter after another on his way to the undisputed heavyweight crown. I remember him fighting Michael Spinks, a fighter so talented he beat Larry Holmes not once but twice. It was supposed to be the fight of the century. Tyson knocked Spinks out in a mere 91 seconds. The previously unbeaten Spinks never fought again. On that night, I think Iron Mike would’ve knocked out even Muhammad Ali in his prime.

But like all good things, their amazing reigns came to an end. Those endings were anything but storybook ones.

Child molestation charges and a plastic surgery obsession destroyed Michael Jackson. Things got so bad that the King of Pop became the King of Tabloid Weirdos. He became a recluse and secluded himself within the confines of Neverland Ranch. It was like Charles Foster Kane holed up in Xanadu, except with more artificial inseminations and Demerol. Upon his death this past week, the public viewed him as an entertainment icon — instead of Jacko the Freakshow — for the first time in probably 15 years.

During his playing days, Michael Jordan was protected up on high by David Stern and Nike CEO Phil Knight. But things have not been pretty for Jordan since his second comeback. He was overaged and overweight as a Wizard, and his paltry numbers somewhat damaged his legacy. Following his retirement, he made news when he forked over the biggest divorce settlement of all time. Additionally, not only has he been a horrid NBA owner/executive, but there are whispers of him being both a womanizer and a gambling junkie.

Not only did Mike Tyson never get up after Buster Douglas sent him to the canvas for the first time in his career back in 1990 — his career never got up either. Robin Givens. The rape charge and subsequent prison sentence. Fighting tomato cans like Peter McNeally. Biting Holyfield’s ear off. Getting knocked by Lennox Lewis after he threatened to “eat his children.” Bankruptcy. The face tat. Quitting against Danny freakin’ McBride. The heavy drug usage. His four-year-old daughter’s recent tragic death. The list goes on and on and on.

The Three Mikes were so great that the the “death” of their careers pretty much meant the death of pop music, the NBA and boxing as well.

Pop music has never recovered. Sure, Justin Timberlake is popular and critically acclaimed, but he is no M.J. American Idol, boy bands and Britney Spears haven’t even sniffed filling the void left by Jackson. I’m not sure that void can ever be filled.

The NBA’s popularity tanked following Jordan’s retirement. The L is just now bouncing back due to the likes of Dwight Howard, Dwyane Wade, Kobe Bryant and LeBron James converging like Voltron to fill Jordan’s giant Nikes. I damn near ordered a Code Blue on the league when A.I. was its face and the Pistons and Spurs battled in the Finals. I was this close.

Ever since Buster Douglas shocked Iron Mike, the sport of boxing has been a White Dwarf. If you ask me, the dying star has now taken a backseat to MMA, and more specifically the UFC. I can count the boxing matches that have thrilled me during the past two decades on one hand. Plain and simple, the sweet science died alongside Mike Tyson’s career on some Romeo and Juliet sh**.

Speaking of death, it might have been the easiest option for Michael Jackson at this point.

That sounds absolutely terrible, but follow me here for a second. I’m not being morbid — I’m being honest. Can you imagine what it feels like to go from being the best entertainer in the world to a global punchline? Can you imagine what it feels like to go from being one of the most beloved human beings alive to an outcast? Can you imagine what it’s like to be a 13-year-old boy who’s trapped inside a surgically deformed 50-year-old body, with the whole world watching your every move? Or what it’s like to be one of the richest entertainers ever and have to declare for bankruptcy? Or when you become such a joke that even a highly regarded news organization like CNN simply refers to you as “Jacko” in their ticker?

I have never, ever seen public perception do a bigger 180 than the one I witnessed last Thursday. Suddenly, there was no more Jacko — it was Michael Jackson again. The man with no nose and no career was forgotten. All of a sudden we were all back in 1984 and M.J. was the undisputed King of Pop once again. One heart attack almost instantaneously wiped out 20 years of bad memories. Maybe Jackson died early enough, tragically enough, that we could give him a clean slate and remember what was best about him. The masterful hits. The uncanny showmanship. The Oprahesque philanthropic efforts. We remembered that the man had a good soul. More than anything, I think the world collectively exhaled. The man we chewed up and spit out when we were done with him was no longer our burden. As far as Mike himself is concerned, he can finally have peace, even if that means resting in peace.

That brings me to Michael Jordan and Mike Tyson? How hard must life be for them after the crowds have gone quiet, or in Tyson’s case turned on them?

Michael Jordan was probably the most competitive person born during the 20th century. Hell, he might be the most competitive person ever born. For over 20 years, he could step onto the hardwood, unleash that competitive spirit and be the best. But what now? The guy can’t go to a restaurant. He can’t go to the movies. He can’t go to the mall. Not under normal conditions. Not without getting mobbed, and it’s been over a decade since he rocked a Bulls uni and heard actual cheers. All fans want now is a B.S. session about his glory days and an autograph. He lost his wife. He lost half of his fortune. Now he apparently spends his days trying to get his competitive fix by gambling, golfing, picking up chicks and running (or is it ruining?) NBA franchises. No matter what he does, he’s never going to be as good at anything else as he was at basketball. Period. Because of that, I see his redonkulously competitive nature eating him alive inside.

I imagine that life after basketball for Air has been harder than any of us can imagine. Why do you think Brett Favre can’t hang up his cleets? Same reason; the best years of his life are, and always will be, behind them. I guarantee that’s how they both see it.

Life has got to be even worse for Mike Tyson. He recently got married again, and I genuinely hope he’s happy. But I doubt he is. Iron Mike has been left with a glass soul. His story has to be every bit as sad as Jackson’s. He was manipulated and used as a young man. No different than how everybody in Jackson’s life cared only about what he did in the studio, the people in Tyson’s corner cared only about what he did in the ring. He never learned how to be an adult, how to be a man. Because of that, everybody from Don King to you and I leeched onto him and let go when he was damaged goods. Back in 2005, Tyson said “My whole life has been a waste – I’ve been a failure. I just want to escape. I’m really embarrassed with myself and my life.” (USA Today, 6/2/05)

Back in the day, Tyson was the Baddest Man on the Planet, the heavyweight champ and one of the most popular athletes of all time, especially with young people. Now? He’s a down-on-his-luck loser who’s embarrassed to be himself. One of the 25 greatest athletes who ever lived and he’s effin’ embarrassed to be himself. His face is tatted, his finances tattered and his reputation forever tainted. Jesus H., that’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.

Even though I was born in Kansas City and have lived everywhere from Los Angeles to Miami, I grew up in Springfield, MO, a relatively small city. What does that have to do with this? Everything. When my high school class graduated, I kept hearing, “the best years of our lives are behind us.” WTF? That was my response. I can’t imagine living a life without purpose, a life of emptiness, a life spent looking backward. I’m 30 years old, but I wholeheartedly believe the best years of my life are ahead of me. I do and I have to, and I think anyone who really wants to enjoy life has to, too.

Now, a lot of people look forward to their marriages/relationships growing, raising children, enjoying grandchildren, retirement, etc. For most people, there’s more to life than what you can accomplish professionally. Well, none of these guys fared well in marriage. As for fatherhood, I’m not saying Jackson, Jordan and Tyson were bad fathers, even though I probably could make a pretty good case. That’s not my point. My point is that fatherhood didn’t seem to provide them with any joy. Do I know this for sure? No. How could I? But just look at Jordan and Tyson (and remember how Jackson was carrying himself in the end). Do they act, look, sound happy? Hell, even content? Not to me they don’t. I don’t expect things to get any better either. I can’t imagine Tyson making it to be a grandfather, or a retired Jordan.

I’m sitting here without a lot of money. I’ve only enjoyed moderate success so far in life. I’m currently single. Yet I find myself feeling sorry for Jordan and Tyson, and I definitely felt sorry for Jackson all the way up until his death.

I’ve long wondered how hard it would be to be one of the Three Mikes after their reigns ended. I can’t imagine what it would be like to be them after both their talents and the crowds of screaming fans disappeared. They’re shells of their former selves, yet they can’t go out in public and lead a normal life. As for their next conquests, what’s left for them? They’ll never reclaim their former glory — that’s impossible. I wish Jordan and Tyson long, prosperous lives, but I can’t help but think that they’re not any different than Jackson. I’m worried that they’re going to be miserable for as long as they’re alive.

Maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t think I am. Maybe that’s the cost of being a megasuperduperstar? Maybe that’s the cost of being one of the Three Mikes. After all, this is the Go Green Era. We no longer hang onto our stars — we recycle them.

(Adam Best is the senior editor of the FanSided.com Sports Network and the twisted mind behind Fan Addict. Follow him on Twitter.)