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Reaching for
Greatness
Chicago beat Portland for its second straight NBA title, but do the Bulls belong
among the league's alltime elite?
By Jack
McCallum
Issue date: June 22,
1992
 The Chicago Bulls concluded a year of living dangerously on Sunday evening in
their dilapidated madhouse on Madison, using an unlikely cast of characters to
fashion an unlikely comeback against a most likely collection of victims, the
Portland Trail Blazers. On many occasions during what seemed to be a death march
of a postseason, the Bulls appeared ready to tumble into the abyss, but at no
time were they teetering more precariously than at the outset of the fourth
quarter in Game 6 of the NBA Finals. Portland was leading 79-64, the customarily
loud and proud Chicago Stadium crowd had all but given up, Michael Jordan was on
the bench, and the game -- and perhaps the season -- was in the hands of the
group that His Airness has often referred to as "my supporting
cast."
No more than an hour later, however, the Bulls stood together on the scorer's
table at the stadium, series MVP Jordan, Olympic teammate Scottie Pippen and all
the Bobby Hansens and Stacey Kings waving to the crowd, hugging loved ones,
swaying unrhythmically but enthusiastically to the dual accompaniments of music
and champagne, and passing the NBA championship trophy down the line. Their
series-clinching 97-93 victory over the Blazers had written in indelible ink a
point that assistant coach Johnny Bach had made eight months ago, just before
Chicago embarked on its quest to repeat. "Only the Bulls," said Bach, "can
beat the
Bulls."
Indeed, whenever Chicago had to win a game during its seemingly endless 22- game
postseason, it went out and won it. Technically, of course, Game 6 was not a
must win because the Bulls held a 3-2 lead going into it. But to have the series
extended to a seventh game was a fate-tempting uncertainty that even this cocky
group did not want to risk. Besides, with Olympic training camp beginning this
Sunday in San Diego, Jordan's tee times were in
peril.
Is that not, then, the definition of a great team -- one that wins when it has
to? A quick glance at the Chicago bench reveals a Will Perdue here and a <
Craig Hodges there, but with 67 victories during the regular season and a second
straight championship (the Bulls are the third team in a row to repeat,
succeeding the Los Angeles Lakers in 1988 and the Detroit Pistons in '90),
doesn't Chicago deserve to be mentioned among the best ever, with, say, the
1971-72 Lakers or the 1966-67 Philadelphia
76ers?
"Let's just say they're a very good team with one great player," said Danny
Ainge in a quiet Portland locker room after Game 6. That was a fair
assessment.
"I'm still not sure the best team won the series," said one of Ainge's
teammates, Buck Williams. Now, that was plainly
ridiculous.
Led by their serene superstar, Clyde Drexler, the Blazers did earn points during
the series for their unwavering friendliness and overall guy-next-door demeanor.
Even when Terry Porter, Jerome Kersey and Cliff Robinson complained about the
referees, as they did after Game 6, they sounded, at worst, like Eddie Haskell.
At the same time, though, the Blazers did nothing to shed the image that has
clung to them over the past few seasons. To wit: that they are a team with
outstanding talent and an astounding capacity for self-destruction in the
stretch because of nerves (too many) or brains (not
enough).
Portland has lost late in the playoffs three consecutive years (the previous two
defeats were to the Pistons in the '90 championship series and to the Lakers in
the '91 Western Conference finals), and if nothing else, the Blazers' identity
now seems clear -- they're the Denver Broncos in tank tops. Portland's core
personnel is young enough and healthy enough to return to the Finals -- and
Drexler says the Blazers will -- but management might have to make some changes.
As Ainge said after Game 6, "This loss will stick with us for a long
time."
In the first three quarters on Sunday, Portland played near perfect basketball,
which was not surprising. The Blazers felt little pressure, for after Portland's
blowout loss at home in Game 5, Sunday's game had been all but conceded to the
Bulls by everybody but the Blazers. The Bulls' pregame chatter, in fact, ran to
parade routes and golf games. For the first time in the series, Porter took the
ball hard to the basket, exploiting his physical advantage over both Bulls
starter John Paxson and his backup, B.J. Armstrong, and Kersey (14 points, six
rebounds, two steals in the first half) roamed the court at both ends like the
Pippenesque free-lancer he's supposed to
be.
Portland led 50-44 at intermission and 79-64 after three periods. As for the
Bulls, Pippen seemed to be heading for another playoff migraine with a poor
shooting performance -- he was 4 for 12 through three quarters -- and Jordan,
who had blown two layups early in the third quarter and had another rejected by
Drexler, was so leg-weary that he looked as if he were lugging two bags around
Pebble Beach. So Chicago coach Phil Jackson decided he needed "to do
something." Out for the fourth period marched the quintet of Armstrong, Hansen,
King, Scott Williams and Pippen, the lone starter. (Did someone mention the '72
Lakers?) And what was Jordan thinking over on the bench? That a comeback was
possible? "In my mind, frankly, no, I didn't think it was possible," he
said.
Hansen got the rally started, and the crowd back into the game, with a
three-pointer and a steal. The Trail Blazers feed on positive energy in their
arena -- well, maybe not in this series in which they lost two of three at home
-- but they also tend to get caught up in a frenzied tempo on the road. That's
what happened on Sunday. Kersey committed a flagrant foul on King, who converted
one of the free throws, and on the ensuing possession Pippen made a layup
against a suddenly timid Portland defense to cut the lead to 79-70. "We were
playing not to lose rather than to win," said Ainge
later.
The Blazers got caught for a double dribble, were called for an offensive foul
on an overaggressive pick, had a couple of shots blocked and heaved up a few
others that would have been better left unheaved. It was as if they were holding
a menu of bad possessions and wanted to make sure they ordered all the entrees.
Porter, a point guard with a strange tendency to dribble toward the sideline
when he's in trouble, even kicked the ball out of bounds when he was pressured
by King, who can't guard a safe when it's stationed more than five feet from the
basket.
Worst of all was the performance of veteran Buck Williams. Twice while guarding
King in the pivot he deliberately fell to the floor in attempts to draw an
offensive foul. Neither effort would have earned a passing grade in the Bill
Laimbeer School of Thespian Floppers, and the officials properly ignored
Williams's dives. After the second one King glanced at Williams on the floor and
then banked in a 14-foot jumper to cut Portland's lead to
81-78.
On it went. A well-rested Jordan returned with 8:36 to go, and Jackson
eventually worked two other starters, Paxson and Horace Grant, back into the
lineup. When Williams waited too long to make an outlet pass after picking up a
loose ball, Jordan batted the ball out of his hands and stuck in a layup with
4:01 left to put Chicago ahead, 89-87, for the first time since early in the
game.
Having called several timeouts to stem the comeback early in the period,
Portland coach Rick Adelman used his last with 1:39 remaining. Thereafter he
would not be able to gather his team to calm it down -- assuming such a thing
was
possible.
A Drexler layup tied the score at 89-89, but Pippen put Chicago ahead for good
with a 16-foot jump shot with 2:21 to go. It was all Jordan after that --
16-foot jumper, baseline drive from the right side (that move included a
two-step between dribbles that would have earned a whistle if this were a
perfect world) and, finally, two clutch free throws with 11.8 seconds remaining.
"Going into the series I thought Michael had 2,000 moves," said Drexler after
the game. "I was wrong. He has
3,000."
Jordan and Pippen combined to score Chicago's final 19 points, which is what
stars are supposed to do. But they never would have gotten the chance without
the contributions of Armstrong, Hansen, King and Scott Williams -- a.k.a. the
Bench Brothers. Jordan's teammates were once known as the Jordanairies. On
Sunday they were the Jordan-extraordinaries and were a major reason that Chicago
was able to come from further back in the fourth quarter -- 15 points -- than
any team in Finals
history.
Doubts about the Bulls, and even Jordan, lingered after a Game 4 foldaroo on
June 10 in Portland, however. Chicago's performance in that game was similar to
its Game 2 debacle, in which the Bulls had blown a 10-point lead in the final
4:30 and lost 115-104 in overtime. The Blazers rallied in the fourth game after
an overly emotional Kersey gave Scott Williams three free throws (he made them
all for an 80-74 advantage with 7:42 left) by compounding a personal foul with a
flagrant foul. Perhaps Portland needed more such paroxysms of passion in the
Finals, or perhaps it was just coincidence, but the Blazers dominated the Bulls
down the stretch to prevail 93-88 and tie the series at 2-2. During the rally
Adelman employed a small lineup that kept Buck Williams and Kevin Duckworth on
the bench. (What's a Duck worth? In this series, only 9.3 points and 6.8
rebounds a
game.)
Jordan didn't score during the last 10 minutes of Game 4, and afterward he
unwisely mentioned that he had been winded because he had had to play extra
minutes -- his total was 44 -- because Pippen had gotten into foul trouble. A
growing body of critics waits with a pair of forceps to pluck from the air
Jordan's every statement, place it under a microscope and examine it for trace
amounts of ego, vanity and self-righteousness. Was it a fact that Pippen's
fourth foul with 4:55 to go in the third period threw off Jackson's substitution
pattern, which is based partly on keeping Jordan or Pippen on the floor at all
times? Absolutely. But, to some observers, Jordan seemed to be whining or
complaining about
Pippen.
Two words summed up the Bulls' attitude after Game 4: pissed off. That was
Jackson's phrase as he contemplated the cold, hard fact that his team had
controlled all but about 10 minutes of the first four games, yet found itself in
a dogfight. "By all rights and purposes, the series should be over," he
said.
It was difficult to discern if Jackson was playing one of his mind games, for he
is not easily read. After all, this is a coach who registered in his Portland
hotel under the name of his favorite Sioux warrior. (He did not want the name
revealed.) This is a coach who spent the evening before Game 5 visiting a store
for outdoorsmen and strolling through downtown Portland with his family, rather
than staring bleary-eyed at game films. And this is a coach who wore ties to
Games 1 and 2 hand-painted by Grateful Dead guitarist Jerry Garcia and who even
exchanged notes with Garcia before the series started. (In the
world-gets-curiouser-and-curiouser department, da Bulls and da Dead fly the same
MGM charter plane from time to
time.)
But, yes, Jackson seemed P.O.'d, as did Jordan, who echoed his coach's phrase
and later touched once again upon the delicate subject of Pippen's delicate
psyche. "Scottie was doubting himself in our series against New York and
started losing confidence," said Jordan. "I think he's at the point now where
maybe he is a little unsure of himself in certain games." Fact? Yes. Better
left unsaid?
Definitely.
Reports of the Bulls' state of mind drew bemused comments from most of the
Blazers, a somewhat angry comment from Adelman and very little comment from
Drexler, who, were he shot out of a cannon into a tub of ice water, might say
something like, "It was a little exciting but nothing I didn't expect." Said
Adelman, "If the Bulls can't finish a game, it's not my fault. [Actually, no
one said it was.] I don't understand why you have to talk about the other team
like it doesn't have the right to be there and
win."
Said Buck Williams, "There is definitely an arrogance about the Bulls. They
think they gave away the games we won." And that's the way the series went --
the Bulls acted, the Blazers
reacted.
Buck also promised "World War IV" (no one was sure what happened to WW III,
but, hey, it's his analogy) for Game 5 last Friday. If that was the case, the
Blazers made a slight tactical error: They packed popguns and lost 119-106. The
first seven minutes decided the outcome and pointed out the crucial difference
between the two teams: The Blazers don't have Jordan and Pippen, the Bulls do.
They scored all but four of Chicago's first 23 points. They ranged all over the
court, pulling up for jumpers one moment and posting up the next. On defense
they clogged the middle on switches and stepped into passing
lanes.
The game may well have been decided on two early plays. With the score tied 2-2,
Jordan ran back on defense, forced a turnover on a two-on-one Blazer break,
headed downcourt, took a pass from Pippen, pulled up and drilled a
three-pointer. Minutes later, Pippen stole a pass (no surprise there, because
the Bulls got 17 points off turnovers in the first quarter), dribbled downcourt
and threw down a thunderous dunk over Drexler to put Chicago ahead 20-11.
Portland pulled to within nine points late in the game, but this time
the Bulls didn't
falter.
Lost among the glowing stat lines of Jordan (46 points) and Pippen (24 points,
11 rebounds, nine assists) was another key to Game 5 -- and to the whole series.
Grant had only six points and five rebounds, but Buck Williams, his power
forward counterpart, also had only six points to go with seven rebounds, zero
assists and zero steals. In the four games that followed Williams's strong Game
2 performance (19 points, 14 rebounds), Grant neutralized him. In Game 6, for
example, Grant took only one shot (he made it) and got only five rebounds, but
Williams had only seven points and eight rebounds, and played more like Uncle
Buck than Buck at crunch time. "We wanted to let the two alligators cancel each
other out," said Bach on
Friday.
Two years ago Bach made a two-hour tape of Williams in action, presented it to
Grant and challenged him to Be Like Buck. In other words, Bach told him, "low
number of shots, high-yield, team play, challenge everything, be physical."
That was the Williams model, and that is precisely what Grant has
become.
As the final seconds ticked down in Game 5, the last one of the series to be
played in Portland, Blazer fans had a chance to thank their heroes for a 57- win
season and for having reached the Finals twice in three years. After all, this
is a community that placed so many calls of protest to AT&T over a billboard
of Pippen plugging the company's Olympic sponsorship that had gone up near the
Coliseum two weeks ago that AT&T removed the sign. Last Friday, however, the
Portland fans either sat on their hands or booed the Bulls. It was not good
form.
Then again, who knows how the crowd at Chicago Stadium would have reacted had
the Bulls not won. (Perhaps the costs of razing the 63-year-old building, which
will take place after the 1993-94 season to make way for a new arena across the
street, would have been saved.) But win it they did, and the fans were
ecstatic.
Long after the final buzzer most of the crowd of 18,676 was still hanging around
the stadium. When Jackson heard this, he led his players back onto the floor,
where they remained for at least 30 minutes, the focus of a raucous but entirely
civilized party. (Regrettably, the same cannot be said for other supposed
celebrants in various parts of the city. As of Monday afternoon Chicago police
had made more than 1,000 arrests on charges including arson, burglary, theft and
disorderly conduct. Scores of police suffered minor injuries, and two civilians
were badly
burned.)
Jordan, who had cried uncontrollably last year after winning his first title,
played the role of pied piper this time, leading a free-form snake dance all
over the floor while holding aloft the championship trophy. After he climbed
onto the scorer's table, Jordan hollered to a friend, wriggled his hands
together to approximate a golf grip and held up eight fingers. That was Monday's
tee
time.
Later, down in the bowels of the stadium, Jackson pondered what had been a long
and difficult season, particularly the final seven weeks of playoff tension,
turbulence and, ultimately, triumph. "Last year it was a honeymoon," said
Jackson. "This year it was an odyssey."
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