My Fake Interview With Gar Forman
If I could sit down with the elusive Chicago Bulls General Manager Gar Forman, this is how I imagine the interview would play out.
April 12th, 2017 — The buzzer had long sounded, and now sweepers were combing the United Center rows for loose garbage and lost hot dogs, dreading the area where Benny The Bull had performed his famed popcorn drop.
On the Bulls’ bench sits General Manager Gar Forman in solitude, a quirky smile forming on his lips.
“We sold out.” he mutters to no one in particular, greatly satisfied with a crowd of 20,917 people and a strong night at the concession stands. The Bulls losing handily to the league-worst Brooklyn Nets in the final game of the regular season already a distant memory.
“When fans are leaving the United Center in the middle of the fourth quarter of a loss, they can be more inclined to buy something on their way out to lessen the sadness of a poor performance. When we win, the opposite is true, and they leave on a high. So, it’s an act of balance.”
Forman, long criticized for preferring to please ownership and lacking the insights to build a championship team, takes pride in the Bulls moniker of what the fans have come to call The Financial Champions, with the organization frequently leading the league in profits. “Chicagoans knows a good deal when they see one, so when they call us The Financial Champions, or TFC as I like to call it, I see it as a compliment. I even had business cards printed out with that name.”
As Forman shows me a card that strongly hints at having been created one wasteful night in Microsoft Paint, a Bulls staffer runs out and pulls him away for a brief moment. Forman, never one to share intel, just shakes his head when we resume our talk.
“It’s not that I want to be secretive. It’s just that I don’t want anyone to know what I know.”
As we begin walking through the tunnel towards the locker rooms, Forman laughs in nostalgic fashion, as if he’s being reminded of something. I suspect the hundreds of fond memories he must have had seeing great players walk where we’re walking, imagining the chills of the experience. “I remember a couple of years ago,” he exclaims excitedly, “Derrick Rose and Jimmy Butler were standing right here. They were friends then. We were playing Toronto, and the two made a bet as to how much we were going to win by. Jimmy said 12, Derrick 10. I stood close by and couldn’t help myself. I threw fifty bucks on the ground, right in front of them and said “Lose by 5”. They looked at me so weirdly, almost as if they were devastated. But true enough, we lost and I collected right here where we’re standing now. That was a special moment to me.”
Forman’s honesty is in sharp contrast to his press conferences where he routinely avoids taking questions from reporters who are critical of his track record, and demands full control of the room to avoid rogues.
“The media is crooked!” he shouts, his strong reaction coming as a surprise to even himself. “I’m sorry, but they do nothing but ask questions. What kind of life is that?”
Puzzled at the fact that he doesn’t comprehend that I’m doing the same thing, I switch gears as I fear his realization of the situation is near. I ask him about the team’s plans, hoping to get a shred of insight into a situation that virtually no one gets. Instead, I get rolling eyes.
“Look, team building is a dynamic. You know how Jerry Krause and Red Auerbach took great interest in building teams, and were excited to see how their teams would function? I don’t operate like that. I just want good guys in here who are loyal, then talent and team fit comes second. I think that’s what separates me from the rest of the executives in the league. I think personality first, second, third. It’s essential to have good character guys, just as it is to be a loyal guy. We don’t want to be the Jail Blazers here. Give me a team that stays out of jail and out of the media, and I can go to sleep satisfied. And I’ve done that. Basketball is more than just a sport. It’s people and relationships. I have relationships with certain programs because we have a connection, and you don’t ever break that connection.”
Forman has riled himself up, and he knows it. He goes to the nearest vending machine and grabs a Snickers bar. He gathers himself.
“It’s you people,” he says while pointing at me with a condemning look, “you media people always focus on what I say and what I do. You never write about how I think. Would I like this team to win? Sure. But there’s a list of things that I need to do before that, including keeping my job in the first place. We can’t win, if I don’t keep my job, you know what I’m saying?”
I admit I don’t, further upsetting the General Manager.
“It’s simple. If I don’t work here anymore, I can’t build a winning team, can I? So I have to earn Jerry money first. This is done by acquiring players who are greatly attractive to the average fan like a Pau Gasol or a Rajon Rondo or a Dwyane Wade. After that, I have to make sure to get a coach, which I’ve done. Fred is fantastic. Iowa State product. He’s been sublime for us. So I’ve done a good job there. After that, I have to build around all those guys, and so I have to divide my efforts. Have you ever had a job where you had to do more than one thing? It’s extremely hard.”
We enter a now forsaken Bulls locker room. Forman sits down at Nikola Mirotic’s locker. He sighs heavily. Mirotic is a restricted free agent this summer, and is looking at a significant pay increase. Forman caresses his #44 jersey in an unusual display of emotion before breaking his self-imposed silence.
“We don’t like young players around here. When we drafted Niko, he was 20. So him staying abroad for three years was very attractive to us. It’s almost as if he did us a service.”
Forman stands up and goes to the center of the room. He spreads out his arms and swirls slightly.
“Look at these guys. Denzel Valentine, already 23. Jimmy and Doug were seniors. So was Jerian, who we liked. Paul Zipser is nearing 23. Taj was 24 when we got him. I tell you, this isn’t getting enough press, but we do an amazing job of drafting and acquiring older players. They’re ready when they come in.”
I risk everything and point out advanced age means less potential. I receive a look of disapproval, mimicking that of a father who hears his son won’t attend his alma mater.
“That’s why you’re not in the league,” Forman says unfiltered, “experience and maturity wins ball games. That’s what you media guys never understand.”
He finds a remote control and turns on the television. The Pistons had lost to Orlando that night, securing the Bulls the eighth and final playoff seed, and ESPN’s Adrian Wojnarowski is noting how a Pistons win would have knocked the Bulls out of playoff contention. Forman chuckles.
“We always make the playoffs. If not by our own accord, then by others. Nature of the game. What’s important here is that I gathered a team that even put us in this position. If I hadn’t gotten Rajon and Dwyane, we wouldn’t be here today. It’s about being flexible and it’s about having foresight.”
Realizing the conversation having grown stale, I thank Forman for his time as he gazes blissfully into the television. He waves me off.
As I enter the hallway outside the locker room, I notice the same Bulls staffer who interrupted us earlier. I ask him what he told Forman, and the answer isn’t surprising. “Just gave him some info on a Cyclones coach he’s looking at.”
