Part 18 (2/2)
Nothing came easy. Michael was struggling, hitting only 9 for 25 from the field. But when his jump shot wasn't working, he manufactured points by driving to the hoop in a crowd and drawing fouls. He ended up with 28 hard-won points, 10 of which came at the line. He also pulled down 9 rebounds and made 8 a.s.sists.
Michael's drive was contagious-especially with the bench. Toni scored 21 points; Kerr had 11; and Jud Buechler grabbed 5 rebounds in eleven minutes. In fact, our work on the boards was the key to the game. We hit only 38.2 percent from the field that night, but we outrebounded the Pacers 5034, which gave us a lot of second opportunities to score. And Rodman, who was having an off night, contributed a mere six to the total.
During the middle of the fourth quarter, the team missed 10 straight points and fell behind 7774-and I thought we might be history. But then the whole team started getting creative, scrambling for the ball and looking for anything that might break the game open. Michael fired a pa.s.s to Longley, and Scottie, who was not having a good night offensively, pulled down Luc's miss and hit a jumper with less than five minutes left that put us ahead for good, 8179. We went on to win 8883.
”It's about heart, and I think you saw a lot of heart out on the basketball court,” an exhausted Michael said afterward. ”It was a great effort. It's truly a champions.h.i.+p team in terms of finding ways to win and making it happen.”
The next series-the champions.h.i.+p finals against the Utah Jazz-wouldn't be a dream vacation either. First of all, we didn't get home-court advantage because the Jazz had swept us during the regular season. That meant we'd have to win two games on the road against them, unless we won three in a row at home, which had never been done before in the postseason. The key to beating the Jazz was to sabotage their great screen-roll game by pressuring the point guards, John Stockton and Howard Eisley. Karl Malone was a machine on offense, but he didn't excel at creating his own shots the way Michael did. Malone relied on the point guards to set things in motion for him. If we could cut off the point guards, we'd stifle Malone.
In game 1, I pulled Harper late in the game because he seemed tentative on offense. And Kerr couldn't contain Stockton in the closing minutes, so we lost, 8885, in overtime. We edged out the Jazz, 9388, in the second game, then returned to Chicago to make history. For game 3 we decided to have Pippen double-team Stockton as he moved the ball across half-court, and Scottie's size and wingspan made it difficult for John to initiate the offense. We won 9654, and the Jazz walked off with the record for the fewest points scored in a playoff game by one team. Veteran Jazz coach Jerry Sloan said, ”I don't know if I've ever seen a team play any better defensively since I've been in the business.”
We won the next two games at home, giving us a 31 edge in the series. Scottie was so dominant in game 4 that Sam Smith called for him to be named finals MVP over Jordan. But first we had to win, and that was proving harder than we imagined. There was so much hype in Chicago about game 5, which could be Michael's grand finale, that the players had a difficult time focusing on the game, and we lost, 8381.
It all came down to game 6 in Utah. Actually, it came down to 18.8 seconds in that game-one of the most dramatic moments in the history of sports. I didn't want to play another game 7, especially in the Delta Center, where the boisterous home crowd held powerful sway over the refs in big games. But things didn't look good when we arrived at the stadium for game 6. Scottie had serious back spasms and would be out much of the game. Harper had a stomach flu. Longley was playing limited minutes because of foul trouble. Dennis was averaging 6.75 rebounds in the series, well below his 15.0 average during the regular season. Kukoc and Kerr were performing well, but I didn't think they could offset the loss of Pippen. Before the game I asked Michael if he could play the full forty-eight minutes. ”If you need it I can,” he said.
Scottie left the game in pain after the first seven minutes and was out for the rest of the first half. Somehow we held it together and finished the half down by only 5 points. Scottie returned after the break and played for nineteen minutes, mostly as a decoy on offense. As the fourth quarter began, Utah was leading 6661 and slowly losing ground to the Bulls, who tied the score at 77 with five minutes left.
But we had a problem: Michael's legs were tiring, and he couldn't get any lift on his jump shot. I urged him to drive to the basket instead, because the Jazz didn't have a center on the floor to jam up the middle. If he was forced to go to his jumper, I advised, he should make sure he completed the follow-through, which he hadn't been doing. With 41.9 seconds left, John Stockton hit a twenty-four-foot jumper that put the Jazz ahead 8683. I called time-out and told the players to run a variation on one of my favorite plays-which involved clearing out s.p.a.ce on one side of the floor for Michael so he could create his own shot. Scottie tossed in the ball to Michael at half-court and M.J. drove past Byron Russell on the right side and put in a high-arching layup to make it 8685 Utah.
As expected, the Jazz didn't call a time-out and started to launch one of their standard plays. Michael antic.i.p.ated where the pa.s.s was going and slipped around Karl to steal the ball from him.
That's when everything started to slow down. Michael, who often had an otherworldly sense of what was happening on the floor, moved the ball up court and sized up the situation. Kerr and Kukoc were on the floor, so Utah couldn't risk double-teaming him. That left Russell all by himself to guard Michael as he calmly let the clock run down like a big cat studying its prey. Then Russell made a stab for the ball, and Michael moved right as if he were driving to the basket, gave Byron a little push, and pulled up short and sent him flying to the floor. Slowly, ever so slowly, Michael squared up and lofted a beautiful shot to win the game.
Afterward Michael recounted what was going through his mind in those closing seconds. It sounded like a poem on mindfulness. ”When I got that [steal], the moment became the moment,” he said. ”Karl never saw me coming, and I was able to knock the ball away. When Russell reached, I took advantage of the moment. I never doubted myself. It was a two-point game, a three-point game, we kept hanging close. When I got the ball, I looked up and saw 18.8 seconds left. I let the time tick until I saw the court the way I wanted it. John Stockton was over on Steve Kerr, so he couldn't gamble and come off. And as soon as Russell reached, I had a clear path. I knew we could hold for 5.2 seconds.”
I couldn't believe what had just happened. I thought I had witnessed Michael's greatest moment during his famous flu game the year before. But this was on a different level. It was as if the whole thing had been scripted. Even though Michael would return to basketball years later to play for the Was.h.i.+ngton Wizards, this is the shot everyone thinks of as his final bow. A perfect ending if ever there was one.
After all the celebrations were over, Michael invited the members of the team and their guests to a party at one of his restaurants in Chicago. When dinner was over, the team retired to the cigar room to smoke stogies and reminisce about our time with the Bulls. The stories ranged from the mundane to the profane. Then each of us gave a toast to another member of the team. I celebrated Ron Harper for his selfless act of switching from an offensive star to a defensive specialist, thereby setting up our run for the second three-peat. Scottie gave the final toast, to Michael, his partner and fellow leader. ”None of this could have happened without you,” he said.
There had been a lot of speculation after the finals about what would happen to the Bulls. Would Reinsdorf try to bring the team together again for one more run? The only way that could happen was if Michael pulled some kind of miracle deal comparable to his last shot. But in my mind I was already gone. And I told Michael that he shouldn't link his decision to me.
I had one more meeting with Reinsdorf at our champions.h.i.+p party. He offered me a chance to stay with the Bulls, but without any guarantee that he'd bring back Michael and Scottie. He and Krause had decided to rebuild the team, a process that didn't interest me. Besides, I was desperately in need of a break. June and I were planning to move to Woodstock, New York, where we'd lived before I joined the Bulls. So I graciously turned him down. Michael waited for the lockout to end in January 1999 before officially announcing his departure.
As I walked out of the Berto Center on my last day, there were some reporters waiting outside. I chatted with them briefly, then climbed on my motorcycle and sped away. It was a bittersweet moment. I felt a great sense of relief, leaving behind all the drama of the past year. But I also knew it was going to be a challenge to let go of my deep attachment to this team that had given me so much.
The Buddhist teacher Pema Chodron talks about letting go as an opportunity for true awakening. One of her favorite sayings is ”Only to the extent that we expose ourselves over and over to annihilation can that which is indestructible be found in us.”
That's what I was searching for. And I knew it wasn't going to be easy. But as a new future unfolded before me, I took comfort in the knowledge that letting go is a necessary, if sometimes heart-wrenching, gateway to genuine transformation.
”Things falling apart is a kind of testing and also a kind of healing,” writes Chodron. ”We think that the point is to pa.s.s the test or to overcome the problem, but the truth is that things don't really get solved. They come together again and fall apart again. It's just like that. The healing comes from letting there be room for all of this to happen: room for grief, for relief, for misery, for joy.”
I felt all those emotions during my final year in Chicago. And before long I would be headed off on another wild ride that would test me even more.
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