Not That You Asked: Being A Chicago Bulls Fan

I come from the Michael Jordan era.

You know, the days when we used to have the best player in the league, the best number two guy, the best coach, a championship team. Back when I knew every guy, even without totally understanding positions or play calls or triangle offense.

And man, did it feel awesome.

I resurrected my love for them back in the mid-2000’s alongside my then boyfriend. Even though Ben Gordon wasn’t going to take us to the top, they were still a playoff team; hustlers.

So when we got Derrick Rose, there was just so much damn hope. I cried when I saw his MVP acceptance speech. So selfless. So team oriented. So dedicated.

But after these past few seasons riddled with injuries, the energy has been slowly sucked out, like a pinhole in a balloon.

There’s a part of me, and I’m sure a part of all of us, who wanted him to come back and kick ass. To be what he could never be expected to be: The New Michael Jordan.

It’s a completely unfair desire and really, why not just let that be then and this be now?

Because we want to win. We want championship rings and unbelievable regular season records and three peats. We want our guy to go out there with the flu and still hit the winning shot.

While I don’t think we should be coming down so damn hard on Rose, I get it. We are a city that has held on to a not THAT distant past. We were kings. We were unstoppable. Or so it felt like it.

I suppose for me, I just remember watching the old team play and had confidence. I believed we would win.

Now I spend the entire game biting my nails even when we’re up twenty. And for good reason. As really good as we look, this is not that team.

And the sooner we can accept that, the sooner we can come to embrace these guys as the hard working, talented bunch of players who have an awesome coach and a city that just wants them to succeed.



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