We can talk about fundamental performance, Luol Deng's contract, and the draft all year--but today is two days before Christmas, so I wanted to touch on the importance of empathy.
I linked to Dan Bernstein's article about Derrick Rose last week, not because I agreed with everything, but because it is definitely an important story within the realm of sports fandom. Major market sports fans are notoriously terrible. I say that as someone who has been around Chicago his whole life. Let's admit it: Chicago sports fans can be miserable. Philly, New York, LA, Boston -- you name a large market, and it probably has a lot of miserable fans. I'm not precisely sure about why this happens, but it probably has a bit to do with living in a city where you can get everything you want with little effort, cynicism, and "unbiased" sports columnists and radio hosts who spew negativity at every turn.
We don't all suck. There are folks in Chicago who are like Packers fans and support players no matter what. The boldest of us believe the Bulls are championship contenders (OK, I'm not quite that bold), while others remain fixated on the offseason, draft, free agency, and insane trades. Most of my professional life, I've worked extensively with forecasting. It's great to have an eye on the future, but I think many times, sports fans think too much about the future and not enough about the beautiful games we all love and enjoy.
To quote a Chicagoland hero:
"Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it."
I write about the future too, and I understand how interesting it can be. The future is full of hope, optimism, possibility, agony, suffering, and incompetence. It is a dramatic place to be and writing and talking about the future can be as fun as writing a movie. Plus, from experience, people don't remember your predictions well enough, so if you were wrong, you can just never mention it, but if you were right, you become an "expert."
As great as the future is, I think I've had enough of the future. I can reflect easily on when the future didn't mean a lot to me. During my senior year of high school, I did not play on our team, but two of my best friends did. I went to damn near every game, and I loved watching them play. Our team had a great season, but my friends' playing time was not what it should have been, and I would give up that success to have seen my friends getting significant playing time.
Still, I watched every game intently, and I loved it. Some players grew on you when you noticed that little things they did on the court, others continually disappointed you, but at the end of the day, they won ball games. It was about watching a team grow and mature more than caring about "will XYZ sophmore be the guy who takes them to the state finals."
Basketball isn't a boring game about stats and playing time, it's a dynamic journey between teammates and coaches that rarely ends in championships, but often ends with fantastic life experiences. Almost all of my favorite childhood memories are sports-related, but it might not be the time I hit a homerun, but rather hanging out with a bunch of guys all the time.
This is why I feel so bad for Derrick Rose. He's not old--25--in fact, he's the same age as I am. Our high school team was a game away from playing him, and as a diehard high school basketball fan (from 03-07), I've known about Rose for a long time. More than any NBA basketball player ever, he's a person to me. Michael Jordan was one of my childhood heroes, and I still consider myself inspired by his drive to compete. Rose is not someone I idolize. Heck, he doesn't even live that far from me, and I know people in his social circles. He's a guy that's amazing at basketball and makes a lot of money, not my hero.
The hardest thing for me as a Bulls fan isn't the loss of championship title contention (I watched the Baby Bulls religiously), but rather a human being suffering a terrible setback on his life journey. You can say he might make $30 million this year, but I don't think that matters. He's from Englewood, and assuming he manages it even somewhat responsibly, he's set for life. Money doesn't matter for him at this point. It's about realizing his goals in life, which I'm sure include championships, the Hall of Fame, and a terrific legacy. All three of these look to be in jeopardy. If it hurts me not to see him grow and achieve his goals on the court, I can only imagine the pain he feels on a daily basis.
Instead of worrying about the Bulls lack of championship potential this season, I'm going to enjoy Tony Snell finding his way in the NBA, achieving a lifelong dream as he's thrust into action. I'm going to watch a savvy veteran like Mike Dunleavy bust his ass coming around screens and working every day to become a better defender. I'm going to enjoy the 2013-14 Bulls like I have every other Bulls team: by watching them and enjoying good people try to accomplish goals.
So next time you think about ripping on Luol Deng for not being better than LeBron James, or you think about "tanking," consider what it would mean if people were rooting for you to fail at your job so you could be fired to find another replacement. Next time you want to call Derrick Rose soft or "unmotivated," think about what would happen if you had your dream job or you owned your own company, only to have it taken away by a freak accident.
"The journey is the reward."
All I want for Christmas is a healthy D.Rose.
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