There's nothing that Michael Jordan likes more than a good mystery, especially when he's the one involved. For the last several months, Jordan has been the main character in his own who-dun-it, teasing us with changing timelines and vague statements about his future intentions.

	Michael, let Kwame Brown and the rest of the Wiz in on the secret.

We hovered on every syllable. We speculated about a return to the NBA and what it would mean and how important it was. Then came last Tuesday and something unprecedented happened to Michael Jordan -- he was rendered utterly and totally insignificant.

Michael, frankly, we don't care anymore about your mystery. We don't care anymore about your pickup games at Hoops the Gym or your on-again, off-again battles with tendinitis. We don't care who comes and goes through the doors at your beck and call and we don't care what Tim Grover or Ahmad Rashad thinks about a possible comeback.

Here's what we do care about -- getting it over with as soon as possible.

Certainly you understood all that and apparently decided against what would have been the ultimate dog and pony show in Washington. Good for you. That was the absolute right thing to do. But while the sports world was in its own version of high alert last Monday, that feeling ended the next morning. Maybe one day it might return, but not anytime soon.

That's why it's time for you to simply let us know. Then we can move on with our sporting lives, which is what everyone is trying to do, however hard that might be. Baseball has decided that it's time to continue. Football will be up and running again this week. Hockey exhibition games will start. The only uncertainty in the NBA at this moment is your status -- and who's going to replace Luc Longley for the Knicks.

A fax is fine. A two-sentence announcement from the Wizards is fine. A teleconference call would do. That's all we need and, honestly, that's all we want. Surely you know by now. You can just make the announcement so that people can look for tickets to Wizards games and then you can get on with those covert workouts in Chicago.

Sure, it's still a big story. It just doesn't have the same heft it had a week ago. What does in the sporting world right now? We can guarantee that you won't be confined to Transaction Central; there actually will be a real story or two and analysis and predictions and all that. In other words, you will get a little more ink and attention than Ruben Boumtje Boumtje, the second-round pick of the Blazers whose signing was announced last Thursday by Portland. (What, exactly, were they thinking?)

Your return will be a big deal -- when it actually happens. The NBA will be a more intriguing entity with your renewed presence, provided, of course, that your team is actually watchable. You will be scrutinized like a pre-nuptial agreement, but then, of course, you already know that. No one has done what you are apparently determined to do: come back at the age of 38 while having missed the last three seasons.

But what no longer is a big deal is the hanging-on-every-sentence melodrama that was being played out in Chicago. We don't need it. We really didn't need it before last Tuesday, but we certainly don't need it now. Just tell everyone what we already basically know and let them wait until media day to ask their questions.

The sooner, the better, because then basketball, like everything else, can get on with its life. The television people can start re-writing the national schedules. The merchandising people can start ordering up those No. 23 Wizards jerseys (last worn by Tim Legler and not worn since you arrived in January 2000.) Your Nike confederates can go into overdrive with the new sneaker line. Even your new teammates will now know who's going to get the ball in the final minute of a close game.

	Stockton

You are trying to become a force and an actuarial anomaly at the same time. That is hard for a player at your position. Not many shooting guards have much left in the tank at the age of 38. Jerry West didn't. Oscar Robertson didn't. Sam Jones didn't. Walt Frazier didn't. John Havlicek didn't. George Gervin didn't. Only some big men and John Stockton have played well at the age of 38.

The thinking is, of course, that you are different from all of them and that you can do it. It would be a great story. It will be interesting and intriguing to watch this unfold. That, however, is down the road.

What's here and now is a chance to simply let the world know what you're doing and then to zip it for awhile. We've heard all we want to hear from the gym in Chicago -- except the two words that we need to hear: "I'm back" or "I'm done."

That's all we need, Mike. It's time you let us in on your plans so you can go back to doing what you need to do and we can do the same.

Peter May, who covers the NBA for the Boston Globe, is a regular contributor to ESPN.com.