Michael Jordan’s Friday-night induction speech has generated a lot of backlash from media types. In the speech, he spoke mostly about his motivation and basically did a roll call of the people who had slighted him — in ways big or small — during his basketball career.

It started with the coach who cut him from the varsity team at Wilmington (N.C.) Laney in 10th grade and wound its way through college and the pros, making the audience in Springfield, Mass., laugh and applaud many times but cringe in a few others.

Some saw the speech as petty and mean-spirited. Talking heads on ESPN and sports radio have ripped it. Adrian Wojnarowski, writing for Yahoo Sports, said: “This wasn’t a Hall of Fame induction speech, but a bully tripping nerds with lunch trays in the school cafeteria.”

I was in Springfield, Mass., inside the symphony hall as Jordan gave his 22-minute speech.

Was I offended?

No.

You know why? Because that’s the real Jordan. For better or for worse, that is the way he is. I have been around Jordan often enough now in on- and off-the-record situations to understand that — when he’s relaxed, when he’s himself, when no corporate PR type is at his elbow, nudging him toward the door — that’s what you get.

So Jordan picked his Hall of Fame speech to give people a glimpse inside. Good for him.

Yes, Jordan’s speech did resemble a rant at times — a funny one, though, not a scary, “I’m-Serena-Williams-and-guess-where-I-want-to-shove-this-tennis-ball” rant.

But guess what? Michael Jordan rants. He is not the cuddly guy you saw in “Space Jam.” He is not the carefully pre-packaged guy you saw in all those Nike and Gatorade commercials — competitive but sweet, with a dazzling smile.

Jordan talks trash like nobody’s business (as did Larry Bird). Jordan has always motivated himself in much the same way the Panthers’ Steve Smith does — finding a speck of disrespect somewhere, even in the smallest crevices.

It is not enough to say Jordan has a competitive streak. He has Niagara Falls inside him, raging with a need for competition. He has always had to win. In basketball. Ping pong. Gambling. Everything.

When Jordan and James Worthy were at North Carolina, playing for the 1982 championship team, they played one-on-one several times. Worthy won two out of those three games — and never would play Jordan again. That has burned Jordan ever since.

So some people didn’t like the way the speech sounded? It wasn’t sugary enough? It wasn’t like a hundred other safe “I want to thank the Academy” speeches that you’ve heard and promptly forgotten?

That’s their prerogative. But for many years, many of those people have griped that they never get Jordan as he really is — unvarnished and unplugged.

That was it.