DRAFT NOTES DECEMBER 11 ,2025 Thursday
By: Christopher Lee (Pin Name)
Birth Name: Christopher Lee Winans
a.k.a.: Mr. Fat Hat / Picasso / Kristoph Lee
Qualification History: It was Chip that initiated it all and he connected me to the Bulls.
Few if any know about Chip. Almost nobody knows anything about me and my participation. In Coach Phil Jackson’s long NBA coaching career of championship basketball at Chicago and Los Angeles, there is a man who can be observed sitting next to coach Phil Jackson in every game. That’s Chip Shaefer.
Chip was a friend, he had supervised me daily through rehabilitation and back from a double Achilles tear injury. We spent many days together during my Sophomore year in college. When most everyone had written me off to the wind, and said my playing career was finished, it was Chip, who was at that time, a college student trainer at Utah, leading me step-by-step daily, through many months of pain and disappointment and back to the court. After a long year, I was starting on a basketball team that won a few NCAA tournament games my Junior year. That wasn’t likely without Chip. I continued playing internationally until the age of thirty.
Years later, Chip Shaefer could be found sitting next to Phil on the bench in the Bulls organization, he was much more than a trainer to the Chicago Bulls dynasty.
Again, Chip and I crossed paths many years after those college days. After I had been forced to stop playing basketball in Europe due to injury and I was unsuccessfully trying my hand at coaching, bouncing around back and forth from the States, Brazil, and to Europe. I found myself grounded back home in Indiana. I was stationary in that location out of unexpected serious health concern for my daughter – which is in itself a long story. Chip had heard some of the real story from Gary Vitti. and I let him know I was doing some writing for FIBA magazine and arranged to met Chip in Indianapolis to find out about extending it to the hottest team on earth, the Chicago bullls..
I was digging into the Flying Dutchman of the Indiana Pacers, Rick Smits, preparing an article for FIBA — which, by the way, is how, when and where I started selling basketball cards, through FIBA basketball magazine, taking out paid advertisements and selling cards to kids in Europe. So Chip and I arranged to meet on Christmas at the hotel in Indy. Satisfying the forever curious Chip – always the polymath – I tossed him a file on my notes during our encounter. Not thinking much about it.
During a secluded depressive filled Christmas lunch in a room with a non-conversational Michael and most of the tired weary Bulls team, I quickly realized the entire Bulls team was simply unapproachable. The Beatles phenomenon had taken over the team. I wasn’t gonna get much in that closed circle. There was no source to procure any articles with this group.
A few hours later, Chip came walking down the empty streets of Indianapolis, asking me if I had any more info on The Dunkin’ Dutchman.
Chip said he shoved my writing onto Coach Phil’s desk at the hotel and he wanted to read more. I guessed, to my surprise, Phil liked what he was reading and he asked for more reports. Chip escorted me to the only open copy location in downtown and I zipped off a few more pages of my prep notes.. We chatted a little after the Pacers game and suggested we stay in touch.
A few days later, after a telephone-fax call, we didn’t have text, yet, back in those years, Chip arranged for me to attend practices and watch a Bulls basketball game. I wrote about my observations. Then, I forwarded my writing to Chip. After that, he continued asking me to come up to Chicago every few weeks. I would drive up to Chicago and watch morning practice and then attend the games at night. He arranged open access to practice and Chicago games. Phil and I had a few short verbal discussions after practice or the games. But I barely spoke to the player of the team. I remember these talks with Phil to be quite esoteric, Zen like verbal exchanges, ten minute deep thought mind warping exchanges … … usually not about basketball. Sometimes in the back halls of the Chicago arena post game, often sharing a cigarette break. I wasn’t paid much, I had enough money for gas money and a hotel. But I knew it was an experience of a lifetime watching this team. It was priceless.
It was fascinating to watch Michael – or MJ, as he had by then known to be called by most all, some friends addressed him as Mike, I had always called him Michael – work out with the Chicago Bulls in the morning of game days, then watch the games at night. I was around the team enough to hear what was being spoken by the players, but I tried to stay out of the fray and not interfere, nor participate, as I was interested in the observation of the basketball process. Chip was always happy to speak and answer any questions I might have had during my visits.
During that period, I was, however, able to get two autographed Michael Jordan Fleer 1986 Rookie cards signature authenticated by Michael Jordan, himself. I did not have Michael Jordan sign the cards. But I wanted to know if they were authentic after paying good money to a mutual friend who claimed he got them signed during a card game, Prior to this request, I had heard through the grape vine … … . Well, … … I heard the rumors from those games and Michael confirmed he had signed the two cards, stating it was most likely during one of the many card games.
This is how and when my 1986 Fleer Michael Jordan Rookie cards became signed and authenticated. However, there is more intrigue within the story.
On one of my trips, I brought the cards with me, knowing if the team won, Chip would get me into the locker-room post game. I came prepared. As a spoof, I ask Michael to autograph a tiny pair of Nike baby shoes. He laughed, and scribbled something on the small side of the shoe. Then, made his usual facetious response. Then, I showed him the cards and he confirmed those were his signatures. If I recall correctly, that was the 1991-92 season. The start of the third championship year. I gave the baby shoes to a high school friend with a four year old daughter dealing with serious health concerns. She had an entire family of absolute crazy Chicago Bulls and Chicago Bears fanatical nuts. They didn’t believe the shoes were an authentic autograph, but the young girl didn’t care. She was so happy to have a pair of Nike baby shoes signed by Michael Jordan … … … although the shoes were too tiny for her feet, she walked around carrying them for days. She was the queen of the family.
I never ask Michael for a single thing in my endeavors hanging in the old Chicago stadium during games and practice facilities up north. I even brought the team a few gifts. One such renderings were hand made Amish crafted wood memorabilia displays of unique photos and cards. Michael wasn’t interested, but other teammates liked the gifts. I wasn’t interested in eating any of the lucrative ‘pie’ from the global financial bonanza surrounding the entire Chicago Bulls situation. Basketball was my thing, and my sole needed that during this period of my life.
Everybody wanted everything from Michael, and I saw the toil up close and personal. Micheal really did not ever seem to have a minute to spare, I wasn’t there to take on him. I visited the Jordan restaurant downtown between practices and games, and sometimes I would run over to Michael’s newly purchased sky scraper building and drop off recorded cassette tapes of my thoughts and observations. I think Juanita listen to some of the info with strange suspicions. I would visit the basketball courts in the ghetto next to the stadium. I just did my thing and watched, then, I wrote reports on my thoughts from observation. Like a Professor, Coach Phil Jackson read the reports, that was enough for me. Well worth the five minutes of verbal time he often provided me after games.
During my last visit to the Bulls, the game had changed venues to the new stadium. An era had ended with the destruction of the old stadium. That is the occasion I bought four old bricks of the torn down stadium from a desperate street vendor. Much later, I tried to get UNC basketball office to forward one of the bricks to the Jordan family. I suggested that someone in the Jordan family would place the brick in the fresh cement of a newly built walkway at one of the many mansions. Everybody seemed oblivious to ‘Real Sports Memorabilia’ and responded as if I was crazy. I don’t know what happen to the brick I left at the UNC basketball office years after the Jordan Bulls team disseminated. I put one of the bricks in my walkway cement at Lake Wolcott. Foresight isn’t always seen by all with eyes.
Michael did, on one occasion, ask me what I wanted from him. I had absolutely no response.
This happened after I snuck a few of the neighborhood young park rats into the stadium hours before the game. As I knew, he would be alone on the court hours before game time, unprepared to fight them off. I never found a basketball stadium or a court I couldn’t find entrance into. The kids went crazy watching MJ take jumpers in an empty gym hours before the game. Those were some happy kids, some with missing teeth and one without shoes. After a time, he did enjoy speaking with the kids before security stepped in to clear the ecstatic kids out the door. Michael then asked me to follow him down to the locker room tunnel. We were alone in the empty stadium, as it was hours before game time. I got him good with the kids, so I followed with a smile. We stood relaxed face-to-face with one foot propped up behind us on the wall for support. We mentioned the latest UNC rumors and then Michael ask me, “What do you want”? I had no response. I just shook my shoulders.
He had nothing to give me that I wanted at that given time. My needs were in my house with my family. Fame and fortune would not change those requirements, or suffice my fill my needs. He did not have anything that I could use at that time. I had no request, nothing except what I was already experiencing, watching him practice and play basketball games up close and personal. My soul needed that experience.
So, my trips took a hiatus when MJ went to hit baseballs. I did take one trip to watch Scotty take over the basketball world as the best player on the globe, and I made a last HAJJ after the MJ return from “retirement’ celebration.
It’s hard to imagine now that Michael would verify anything in today’s world. Nevertheless, he recalls something of my endeavors. If I could I would ask him for that favor now: re-authentic his autograph on the 1986 Fleer Trading card. Help me find a buyer for the card.
I would tell him, the card is mine, the autograph signature is his, it was his, and it remains his signature, not mine. So, we both have an interest in a Basketball Trading Card now valued at 2.5 million dollars. I am sure that the money is not an issue for Michael. However, I would offer that he, at least, have some say as to what his half of the card should be resulted in after it sells. I think he would like the FAT Hats 4 kids program. I am sure he would approve. Now, I just need to find out what outdoor range stadium he is swinging golf clubs at night in South Florida. I promise, I won’t ambush him with neighborhood kids.
I recently went into shock at the monetary value amount at which an ‘Autographed Michael Jordan Fleer 1986 Rookie Trading Card’ was recently sold for auction. I am now selling MY MJ Rookie card, and I will accept much less than the $2.5 million recently paid for a similar card at auction for my almost Mint bank vaulted since 1995, autographed MJ rookie card. So perhaps, my payment for participation and contribution to the bulls with Chip may still come to fruition, sometimes blessings are delayed by God and they appear years later, I guess. Sometimes, it simply appears in your soul. It isn’t really in our control.
I intend to start a FAT Hats 4 Kids foundation. Something larger than anyone can foresee. I just started, with this program idea, … … it is a great idea . That is … … Chapter 1. However I can not complete this mission alone.
Chapter 2: I knew Michael J. Jordan years before this endeavor of getting a card autograph.
