When you talk to Chris Childs, you’re not just speaking to a former NBA point guard — you’re talking to a defensive-minded, tough-as-nails competitor who earned every minute he played. No glitz. No gimmicks. Just grit.
And during our conversation, it was clear: one of the moments that validated his place in the league came against the one guy who validated everybody else’s — Michael Jordan.
“I remember vividly when I was with the Nets and I wasn’t starting at the time,” Childs told me. “And Butch [Beard] put me in and I remember him saying to me, ‘You got Mike.’ And I said, ‘Alright, no problem.’”
Let’s pause right there.
Imagine that. You’re trying to carve your way in the league, and your coach tells you to guard the face of basketball, the six-time champ, global icon, and walking mismatch that is Michael Jordan. Some players would have shrunk. Childs stepped up.
“I’m guarding him and I’m 6’3” and Michael’s 6’6”, but I knew that I would have to get him off his spot and use my strength to take advantage,” Childs explained. “Because if he got me down 12-11 feet, he’s going to jump and shoot over me, so I had to push him out to 15-17 feet where I had the advantage.”
That’s IQ and toughness. Childs wasn’t trying to be flashy — he was strategic, knowing he couldn’t let MJ operate in his comfort zone. It was less about trying to “shut him down” and more about making him work.
Then came the defining moment.
“So, he did a move, and I knocked the ball out of his hand, and he looked over at the bench to [former Nets assistant coach] Paul Silas and said, ‘Who is this b**?’” Childs recalled, grinning at the memory.
Now — if you know MJ, that’s classic Mike. Cutthroat. Cocky. Calculated. That’s how he tested guys. You had to earn his respect — and he wasn’t giving it up easily.
“I didn’t hear it,” Childs continued, “but Paul Silas said in return, ‘At the end of the game, you’re gonna know who he is!’”
Bars.
Paul Silas was old school. Hard-nosed. Not one to be intimidated. And that moment? That was a badge of honor for Childs.
“That right there let me know I had arrived,” Childs declared. “And just getting him [Jordan] riled up let me know that I could go out there and compete against the best.”
Think about what that meant — not just defending Jordan, but getting under his skin. You don’t bother Mike unless you’re doing something right. For a guy like Chris Childs — who made his way into the league undrafted, through the CBA, and into a rotation spot in the NBA — that was everything.
This wasn’t just a game. It was an arrival.
In today’s NBA, where highlight culture and social media clips dominate the narrative, we sometimes forget how moments like these helped shape reputations. You didn’t get love off a mixtape or a dunk contest appearance — you got it in the trenches. On the hardwood. Guarding the guy who wore 23 and demanded your best.
And for Childs, that night in New Jersey — when he was just “some dude off the bench” to MJ — became the night he earned a permanent name tag in NBA circles.
Michael Jordan found out who Chris Childs was.
And so did everybody else.
