Charles Barkley Thought 1993 Was His Year—Until Michael Jordan Proved Once and for All Who Ruled the Basketball World

The 1993 NBA Finals were more than just a clash between two elite teams—they were a showdown between two titans of the game, each believing they were the best player on Earth. For Charles Barkley, that year felt like destiny. After years of being one of the league’s most dominant and unique forces, 1993 marked a breakthrough. It was his first season with the Phoenix Suns, and he’d finally won the NBA MVP award. For the first time in his career, he had a legitimate shot at an NBA championship. Everything seemed to be falling into place.

That Suns team was built to compete. With Barkley as the centerpiece, Phoenix finished with the best record in the league and had a deep, talented supporting cast that included Kevin Johnson, Dan Majerle, and a solid bench. It wasn’t just that the team was good—Barkley himself was spectacular. He averaged 25.6 points, 12.2 rebounds, and 5.1 assists during the regular season. His leadership and ferocity on the court turned Phoenix into a true title contender. Barkley had always believed he was among the greats, but that season, he believed he was the great. The very best. Better than anyone else—including Michael Jordan.

Years later, Barkley would reflect honestly on that time. In an interview, he admitted that in 1993, he thought he was on top of the basketball world. “I always thought I was the best player,” Barkley said. “When Michael started winning, I just thought he had more help than I did. So when I got to Phoenix, I told Cotton Fitzsimmons, ‘I’m the best basketball player in the world. We’re going to the Finals.’ He told me, ‘Well, Michael’s going to be there too.’ I told him, ‘I think I’m better than Michael Jordan.’”

And Barkley meant it. He wasn’t being arrogant—he was just being honest. For a guy who had battled through losing seasons, coaching changes, and constant scrutiny, the 1993 season was a validation. His move to Phoenix revitalized his career, and his MVP award confirmed what he’d believed all along. Now, all that was left was to get past the Bulls and finally capture the one thing that had always eluded him: an NBA championship.

The Suns entered the Finals with momentum, but the Bulls were the defending champions and seeking their third straight title. Michael Jordan, who’d already claimed two MVPs and two Finals MVPs by that point, was still in his absolute prime. But Barkley wasn’t intimidated. Game 1, however, was a warning shot. The Suns lost at home, a critical blow in a series where home-court advantage was supposed to matter. Game 2 suddenly became a must-win. Lose again in Phoenix, and they’d head to Chicago down 0-2, a hole few teams have ever crawled out of. Barkley knew this was his moment—he had to deliver something extraordinary.

And he did. In Game 2, Barkley played arguably the best game of his career. He dropped 42 points, grabbed 13 rebounds, and added 4 assists in a performance that showed just how dominant and determined he was. He threw his body around in the paint, hit midrange jumpers, made key passes, and willed his team to stay in the game. It was a herculean effort by a man who believed he was destined for greatness.

The problem was that Michael Jordan was standing on the other side of that belief—and he wasn’t ready to let it go unchallenged. Jordan answered Barkley’s monster game with one of his own: 42 points, 12 rebounds, 9 assists. A near triple-double. He controlled the tempo, hit clutch shots, and made everyone around him better, just like he always did. The Bulls squeaked out a 111-108 victory, taking a 2-0 series lead. It was a gut punch for Barkley and the Suns.

That night, something changed for Barkley. The man who had always believed he was the best—who’d told coaches, reporters, and himself that no one, not even Jordan, could top him—had finally been convinced otherwise. The moment came not in the arena, but at home, with his daughter. Barkley recalled the memory years later: “When I got home, my daughter was crying. She said, ‘Dad, you guys lost again.’ I told her, ‘Baby, I think Michael Jordan is better than me.’ She said, ‘You’ve never said that before.’ I told her, ‘I’ve never felt that before.’”

It wasn’t an admission of defeat in the typical sense—it was a recognition of something undeniable. Barkley had given everything he had, and Jordan had still done more. In the most critical moments, Jordan didn’t just match Barkley—he eclipsed him. And as the series went on, that pattern held. The Suns fought hard and pushed the Bulls, even stealing a game in Chicago and forcing the series to six games. But in the end, Jordan was simply too much. He averaged an astonishing 41 points per game across the Finals—the highest scoring average in a single NBA Finals series in history.

In Game 6, Jordan sealed the series with a performance that was both ruthless and poetic. With the score tied late in the game, John Paxson hit a three-pointer that put the Bulls ahead. On the final Phoenix possession, Horace Grant blocked Kevin Johnson’s layup attempt, and the Bulls were champions once again. The Chicago dynasty was now official—they had completed their first three-peat. Jordan walked away with another Finals MVP, his third in a row.

For Barkley, the loss stung deeper than any he’d felt before. Not just because the championship slipped through his fingers, but because the truth of his basketball journey had become painfully clear. He had always been great. He had always been dominant. He had always been one of the most unique and unstoppable players in NBA history. But he was not Michael Jordan.

That Finals series is still remembered today as one of the greatest battles between two superstars. Barkley was never better than he was in 1993. And for many, that series proved he belonged in the conversation with the very best. But Jordan didn’t just win that series—he left no doubt. He crushed any lingering debate. It wasn’t enough to just be great in the Jordan era. To beat him, you had to be transcendent. And no one—neither Barkley, nor Karl Malone, nor Patrick Ewing, nor anyone else—could match that level when it mattered most.

Barkley never made it back to the Finals. He had more good seasons, more All-Star appearances, and even joined forces with other greats in Houston in a final attempt to win a ring. But the 1993 Finals remained his best shot. His apex. His moment. And while it ended in heartbreak, it also revealed the humanity beneath the athlete—the vulnerability of a man who gave everything and still came up short. It wasn’t just the loss that hurt. It was the realization that, on that stage, against that opponent, it wasn’t enough.

Looking back, Barkley speaks about that time with the kind of honesty and grace that has come to define his post-playing career. He doesn’t make excuses. He doesn’t downplay Jordan’s greatness. He acknowledges it with the respect of someone who went head-to-head with the best and lived to tell the story. “People always ask me if I regret anything,” Barkley once said. “I don’t. I got to play against the greatest player ever. And for a while, I really thought I was better. That’s how confident I was. But after that series, I knew. I didn’t think it anymore—I knew.”

The 1993 NBA Finals weren’t just about a championship. They were about identity, belief, and the cruel clarity that competition often brings. Charles Barkley believed it was his year. He had every reason to think so. But Michael Jordan reminded the world—and Barkley—why greatness in sports is measured not just in stats or trophies, but in moments. And in that moment, there was only one king of the basketball world.