Couldn't I see the record executives were just jealous?

I tried gently to tell him that I thought there was some truth in what the executives were saying and that he had lost touch with the qualities that once made him so endearing.

"That hurts me, Robert," he said, his voice quivering.

I felt bad.

I started to say that he could be as big as ever if he would only . . . , but I couldn't complete the sentence.

Michael hung up.

After that, I followed his life from a distance -- the child molestation charges, the battle with painkillers, the marriage to Lisa Marie Presley, the increasingly bizarre lifestyle.

Although he would periodically announce recording projects or touring plans, I couldn't imagine, after all the humiliation and disappointment, that Michael could find the strength to step in front of the public again. I thought the fear of failure was too great. It was easier to stay in a fantasy land.

So I was surprised when he announced that he was returning to the stage in a few weeks and was even more surprised when he sold out 50 nights at the O2 Arena in London.

Maybe Michael was stronger than I thought. It took enormous courage to be willing to go back on stage for what could be a make-or-break moment -- and the ticket demand must have given him hope. Despite all that had happened, he saw that he was still loved by millions of fans.

In the best scenario, Michael, 50, would have triumphed in London, not only erasing his mountain of debt but also restoring to himself the sense of invincibility that fame represented. Failure in those shows, however, could have left him even more wounded and vulnerable.

As the July dates neared, I imagined Michael's anxiety mounting day by day, even hour by hour. There must have been days when he felt he could do it, could reclaim his crown with a series of breathtaking performances and stand forever alongside Elvis Presley and the Beatles in pop music lore.

But what if he was wrong?

What if he wasn't strong enough, physically and emotionally? What if he couldn't live up to expectations?

What if no amount of adulation could make him feel safe again?

The stress must have been immense -- and maybe in the end it was too much for his broken heart.

Robert Hilburn was The Times' pop music critic from 1970 to 2005. Parts of this article are excerpted from his memoir, "Corn Flakes With John Lennon, and Other Tales From a Rock 'n' Roll Life," which will be published in October.