The Rose that grew from concrete has just risen all the way to the rafters.
Chicago Bulls legend Derrick Rose left a single flower of his last namesake on the chair of every player in the current team’s locker room before their game against Boston, Saturday night.
I mean he does own his own flower shop in the city, after all.
By the end of the game, Chicago clutch crucified the Celtics, 114-11, thanks to a heater three-point buzzer-beater from flame thrower Kevin Huerter. The exhausted celebration as he fell into his teammate’s arms looked fondly familiar.
Renaissance painting era.
Kind of like the guy Boston’s own Jaylen Brown dapped up before the game. His 33 points weren’t enough in the end. Neither were Anfernee Simmons’ 21, or 15 from Derrick White for the C’s.
The other team beginning with C couldn’t be stopped from three, winning their fourth straight contest. Making 21 from downtown behind new star Coby White’s 22 points. He had five from the perimeter, too. Nikola Vucevic scored a sweet 16, and Jalen Smith and Matas Buzelis both added 14 points in a balanced Bulls win for a team that is shaping up the same.
But they still don’t have it like the legendary likes of Michael Jordan, Scottie Pippen (giving tributes), Bob Love, Jerry Sloan.
And now, Derrick Rose.
In 2009, the Chicago Bulls played in London, against future franchise player Carlos Boozer, and his Utah Jazz, in an exhibition game before the season. Hometown hero Luol Deng (who was also here tonight in attendance) led the way to victory. But fans knew the real future was with the roses.
The Adidas store across from Selfridges on Oxford Street had lines coming out it, and they weren’t for the Samba’s, no matter how nice they were. Rookie sensation Derrick Rose was in town, shyly signing autographs.
Even when I approached him telling him I was a fan today, and a reporter for tomorrow’s game, he looked at me like I was crazy. I probably was. I was in my early 20s and this was my first experience being this close to basketball’s best and the career of my dreams.
There was nothing shy about the way he tore through the lane, though. Dunking with the confidence of Chicago’s next king. Ripping through the league, a classic Celtics clash, and a MVP season (2011), all before tearing his ACL.
Most careers would have been cancelled, let alone crippled. But Derrick rose again. Pooh came up smelling like those flowers, with no thorn in his side, and no roses left on his career’s grave.
Nothing was the same after that, though. Journeying through New York (so good, they had to sign him twice), Cleveland, Minnesota, Detroit and Memphis. Repurposing his career as a super sixth-man sub after more maligning injuries.
The shy, shaved cut was gone. The dreads flew free, like D-Rose, coast-to-coast. Whatever team he played for. Basket to basket.
Yet, through all that. The sixteen-year career across 94 feet. The crisp passes and clutch string music. This number one was always Chicago’s own. A Bull brother for life. What do you expect? Rose may have ended his career in the same city he went to college, but Derrick was born in Chicago, Illinois.
M.J. may be the G.O.A.T. But D-Rose is the heart and soul.
That’s why crying couldn’t be contained when his name and single digit rose to the rafters of the United Center to blow in the Windy City air. From former teammates, Deng and Taj Gibson’s speeches. To Derrick’s own one, honouring his brothers and Brenda, his mother. The real MVP, like KD.
Normally, these jersey retirement events happen at halftime. But Chicago saved the best for last, last night. Even after a clutch winner from downtown at the horn.
No one was stampeding to leave the Chicago Bulls’ stadium. As a matter of fact, fans stayed for over an hour after the clock read zero. No matter the minus temperatures outside. All to honour their hero.
And this was a man who said, “this journey was never about me.”
The humble legend whose legacy lives forever.
Now it’s time to get that concrete ready for a statue.
