There was something of the pomp–and the tedium–of a coronation to the Bulls’ championship-ring ceremony and home opener this month. With its spotlights and repetitive musical fanfares, it was an affair so bombastic it could have been a Leni Riefenstahl production. Yet the crowd was less than ecstatic. “Oh yes, this is how it goes,” the packed house at the United Center seemed to say. “After all, it hasn’t been that long since the last one, not even the four years of a president’s term.” Most of the Bulls, as their names were called one by one, walked slowly out along the carpet through the crowd in the courtside seats to accept their rings and a few congratulatory comments from National Basketball Association commissioner David Stern (lustily booed upon introduction in a gratifying sign of life from the fans) at center court. The exception, of course, was Dennis Rodman, who has his own history with Stern; he trotted out in that distinctive high-stepping gait, grabbed the ring case with his left hand and Stern’s extended hand with his right, and ran on without slowing at all. There was no exchange of pleasantries. Then, after Scottie Pippen, Michael Jordan walked out, slowest of all, taking his time, nodding his head at whatever it was Stern was saying as they clasped and held their handshake.
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The Bulls invoke our sense of aesthetic appreciation, which is in part a danger, as the temptation is to frame each moment like a painting in an art gallery–fine for sportswriters in the press box and TV viewers at home, but less than what’s expected from a partisan crowd. For most of the night this audience sat placidly with arms crossed. Its attitude of calm contentment couldn’t be spoiled, not even when the championship banner got caught on a rafter during its slow ascension to the top of the arena. Spirits were so high and confident that no one would read that as an omen; the muddled banner was discreetly pulled up into the catwalk and returned a few minutes later, pristine and wrinkle free, to its proper spot. By then all eyes were back on the Bulls.
Pippen performed the coup de grace right before halftime. The Bulls as usual managed the clock for a final shot. Pippen drove, put up a layup, and was fouled. The shot dropped, and so did his free throw. The ‘Sixers tried to heave the ball up court for one last shot. Pippen intercepted the pass near half-court, dribbled toward the three-point line, and sank the shot at the buzzer. Six Bulls points in the last 2.2 seconds, and a 62-38 lead at the half: the game was over.
Jackson’s coaching came to the forefront last week against the Detroit Pistons. The Pistons, like the Bulls, entered the game undefeated. Doug Collins appears to have done a good job of rebuilding the team around talented small forward Grant Hill. Yet the team does not have a true center, so the Bulls came out pounding the ball down low to Luc Longley. He scored 16 points in the first quarter, and the Pistons grew so preoccupied with guarding him that they neglected the perimeter. At the end of the game Longley was still stuck at 16 points, but Pippen and Kukoc had also scored that many while Jordan “chipped in” 15. The Bulls had won 98-80 and it was comically easy, in the manner of those Three Stooges routines where Moe hits Curly in the belly, Curly covers his stomach, Moe hits him in the face, Curly covers his head, then his stomach, then his head, and so on.
So let the season drag on, through each timeless moment. Clear spaces on the walls of the mind. The Bulls are back in action creating masterpieces. For people lucky enough to score a ticket however, remember to cheer now and then. A player, after all, is not a painting.
