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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
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(Bill Smith)
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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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NBA Finals
