It’s a tough time to be a Chicago Bulls fan.
It’s hard to sum up our collective frustration, particularly on the heels of such a disheartening trade. You know what happened: Taj & McDermott are gone and there’s little to show for it. The cruelest part is that some of us approached this deadline with actual hope. Maybe the Bulls would do something smart? Something exciting? Something that suggested confidence or leadership or vision? Nope. Nope. And Nope.
Gar Forman “managed” the trade deadline like an incoherent drunk at a bar, stumbling around blindly a minute before closing, looking for someone to go home with. He didn’t have the charm or skill to attract any of his desired targets, so he grabbed desperately for whatever’s easiest. And as fans, we all wake the next day to a pounding headache, marked by disorientation, self-loathing and a bit of sadness.
So where are we now?
Our Bulls, one of the most respected franchises in the history of professional sports, sit mired in mediocrity, chaos and controversy, without a clear sense of direction – on the court or in the front office. It’s hard to believe that just a few short years ago, our badass Bulls were easily among the best teams in the league with the organizational arrow pointing straight to the sky.
Now, where are our once-proud Bulls? Flat-lining at .500 for a second consecutive season. And where exactly are we headed? Battling the Bucks for the 8th seed in the East? Slipping by the Sixers? That’s no way to treat a fan base.
Yet, we remain loyal. Patient. But instead of rewarding our trust, GarPax vomited up another head-scratcher, turning a beloved Vet and a fan favorite into a dancing hair piece and some expiring filler. Oh, and the Bulls gave up a pick in the deal, because, why not? The front office doesn’t know how to evaluate talent anyway.
Can anything be salvaged from this season? How long do we hold our breath for Holberg to “get it”? What can the Bulls hope to achieve with this Frankenstein’s monster of a roster? And what the hell happened to our once enviable core? The answers are as varied as the questions, with no clear outcome in sight.
After all, to achieve a goal don’t you have to be able to articulate that goal?
Yes, of course, sure. The front office must want to win as badly as we fans want to root for a winner. (I mean, they must, right? RIGHT??) But do the decision makers know how to win? Recent evidence isn’t exactly encouraging. When you think about it, who is even left to really root for?
Remember Rose slashing through the lane, provoking gasps of pride and astonishment? Remember Noah’s howls of passion and scraped elbows, willing his brothers to victory? Remember Thibs, prowling the sidelines, preaching perfection, demanding defense? Remember Deng, leading with class, leaving it all on the court? Korver, reigning threes, delivering “the hot sauce”? The Bench Mob, our band-of-brothers, laying waste to second units across the land?
Remember those Chicago Bulls? I bet you do.
I understand loyalty is overrated. That you can’t hold onto heroes forever. That every player, every coach, every team has an expiration date; due to injuries, declining skills, soaring salaries or behind-the-scenes bickering. I get it. But you can’t trade all your dollars for quarters and expect to come out on top. And you can’t just toss away fan favorites and expect an educated, passionate fan base to just ’take it’ or ’trust the process’.
At some point you have to do more than just luck into late draft picks. Jimmy Butler’s a great player and an awesome story of aspiration and effort. I’m psyched to root for him. How long will he remain a Bull? Taj is a consummate pro that did everything the organization ever asked of him, and then some. Now he’s gone. I even liked McDermott and was excited to see him develop. Who will be surprised when he leads the league in 3pt % one day? Not me.
Unfortunately, as we’ve watched this organization make decisions over the past several seasons I can’t help but wonder if the train will ever get back on track.
My sense, from the stands, is that the front office is guessing. The organization currently has the feel of a gambler, deep in the hole, desperately doubling down time and again. Decisions have been made emotionally and without a coherent philosophy. Personal relationships have taken precedence over personnel evaluations. Hurt feelings and egos have been weighted more heavily than team chemistry, athleticism or advanced metrics. And the result is a team that feels less like a bunch of Bulls stampeding down Madison Avenue than a field full of confused cows, staring at each other, wondering who will fix this mess.
Change starts at the top.
Where the Bulls define “the top” is the real question and until it’s answered, Chicago’s ship will remain adrift at sea. The shore, and success, nowhere in sight.
