Part 9 (1/2)

As the season progressed, I slowly started to introduce the team to some of the tribal customs of the Lakota. Some of these were quite subtle. At the beginning of every practice, we had the core team-players, coaches, and training staff-convene in a circle at center court to discuss our objectives for that day. And we would end practice the same way.

Lakota warriors always gathered in circular formations because the circle was a symbol of the fundamental harmony of the universe. As Black Elk, the famed Lakota wise man, explained it:

Everything the Power of the World does is done in a circle. The sky is round, and I have heard that the earth is round like a ball, and so are the stars... . The sun comes forth and goes down again in a circle. The moon does the same and both are round. Even the seasons form a great circle in their changing and always come back again to where they were. The life of a man is a circle from childhood-to-childhood, and so it is in everything where power moves.

For the Lakota everything is sacred-including the enemy-because they believe in the fundamental interconnectedness of all life. That's why Lakota warriors didn't seek to conquer other tribes. They were far more interested in performing acts of bravery, such as counting coup (touching an enemy with a stick), taking part in a raiding party to steal horses, or rescuing a fellow warrior who had been captured. For the Lakota going into battle was a joyful experience, much like playing a game, though the stakes were obviously much higher.

Another Lakota practice I adopted was beating a drum when I wanted the players to congregate in the tribal room for a meeting. The tribal room-aka the video room-was decorated with several Indian totems I'd been given over the years: a bear-claw necklace (for power and wisdom), the middle feather of an owl (for balance and harmony), a painting ill.u.s.trating the story of Crazy Horse's journey, and photos of a newborn white buffalo calf, a symbol of prosperity and good fortune. Sometimes when the team lost a particularly lopsided game, I'd light a sage smudge stick-a Lakota tradition-and playfully wave it through the air to purify the locker room. The first time I did it, the players ribbed me: ”What kind of weed you smokin' there, Phil?”

The coaching staff also played a critical role in getting the players to s.h.i.+ft consciousness. When I was an a.s.sistant coach, Tex, Johnny, and I used to sit around for hours talking about the history of the game and the right way to play it. We didn't agree on everything, but we did develop a high level of trust and a commitment to modeling the sort of teamwork that we wanted the players to embrace.

Needless to say, the coaching profession attracts a lot of control freaks who remind everyone constantly that they're the alpha dog in the room. I've been known to do this myself. But what I've learned over the years is that the most effective approach is to delegate authority as much as possible and to nurture everyone else's leaders.h.i.+p skills as well. When I'm able to do that, it not only builds team unity and allows others to grow but also-paradoxically-strengthens my role as leader.

Some coaches limit staff input because they want to be the dominant voice in the room. But I encouraged everyone to take part in the discussion-coaches and players alike-to stimulate creativity and set a tone of inclusiveness. This is especially important for players who don't get a lot of playing time. My favorite poem about the power of inclusion is Edwin Markham's ”Outwitted”:

He drew the circle that shut me out-

Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout.

But love and I had the wit to win:

We drew a circle that took him in!

When I'm hiring coaches, my strategy is to surround myself with the strongest, most knowledgeable people I can find and give them a lot of room to express themselves. Shortly after I took over as head coach, I hired Jim Cleamons, one of my former Knicks teammates, to fill out the roster. He was one of the most skilled guards in the game, and I knew he could help nurture our young talent. But what endeared him to me most was that he had trained at Ohio State under coach Fred Taylor, one of the best system-oriented coaches in the history of the sport. Tex and Johnny couldn't wait to pick Jim's brain.

Each a.s.sistant coach had a clear role. Tex was in charge of teaching everyone offensive skills as well as the basic fundamentals of the triangle system. Johnny oversaw the defense and specialized in getting the players revved up for each new opponent. And Jim worked one on one with the players who needed more instruction. Every morning the coaching staff and I would meet for breakfast and discuss the fine points of the practice plan, as well as the latest scouting reports. That allowed us to share information with one another and make sure we were all on the same page in terms of day-to-day strategy. Each coach had a high level of autonomy, but when we talked to the players, we spoke as one.

The team got off to a slow start that first year. Most of the players were wary of the system. ”It was frustrating,” says Scottie. ”We didn't have a good feel for each other. And late in games, we would go away from the offense because we didn't have confidence in it.” But in the second half of the season, the team started to get more comfortable and we went on a 27-8 streak. Most opposing teams were confused about how to cover Michael now that he was moving more without the ball. They couldn't double- and triple-team him, as they did when he had possession. But they also couldn't afford to take their eyes off him, no matter where he was, and that created a lot of unexpected openings for other players.

We finished second in our division with a 55-27 record and breezed through the first two series of the playoffs, against Milwaukee and Philadelphia. But our next opponent, Detroit, was not as accommodating. Even though we'd beaten the Pistons during the regular season, memories of the mauling we had taken during the previous playoffs still haunted some of the players, especially Scottie, who had to leave game 6 with a concussion after being clocked from behind by center Bill Laimbeer. Scottie was also coping with a difficult personal issue. He'd missed most of the Philadelphia series in order to attend his father's funeral, and the stress of having to grieve in public was difficult for him to bear.

It was a brutal series that came down to a seventh game at the Pistons' new stadium in Auburn Hills, Michigan. We were struggling. Paxson had sprained his ankle in the previous game, and Scottie was suffering from a horrible migraine that blurred his vision so badly that he couldn't distinguish the colors of the jerseys. Both men tried to stumble through the game anyway, but the team fell apart in an embarra.s.sing second period, and we never recovered. We lost by 19 points, and it felt like 100.

After the game, Jerry Krause showed up in the locker room and launched into a tirade, which was unusual. And Michael was so angry he burst into tears in the back of the team bus. ”I made up my mind right then and there it would never happen again,” he said later.

My reaction was more subdued. Yes, it was a difficult loss, one of the worst games I've ever had to coach. But once the noise died down, I noticed that the pain of humiliating defeat had galvanized the team in a way I'd never seen before. The Bulls were beginning to morph into a tribe.

CHAPTER 7

HEARING THE UNHEARD

And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don't believe in magic will never find it.

ROALD DAHL