Derrick Rose
Too big, too strong, too fast, gone too soon
Throughout the offseason, the team at Bulls Confidential is going to reveal our picks for the top 25 best players in Chicago Bulls franchise history. We are measuring overall impact on the organization, community, and how they impacted their team. Follow along on Twitter by searching #BC25.
10. Dennis Rodman
9. Luol Deng
8. Jimmy Butler
5. Bob Love
I hate having to write this. Genuinely. In a fair and just universe, Derrick Rose would still be a Bull, working on his second or third MVP, with maybe a championship in there as well. This edition of our Bulls Confidential Top 25 series would be able to chronicle his career, celebrating everything of the past while still looking towards the future. But this is not a fair and just universe, Derrick Rose is not a Bull and all we have to look at is the past.
Some of you will surely see Derrick Rose’s placement on our top 25 list and cry blasphemy. That’s cool, but this isn’t for you. Rose should not be remembered as a Bull for his comments to media about walking at his son’s graduation, nor for his “feud” with Jimmy Butler, nor for sitting out games that maybe you thought he should have played in. I don’t know about you, but I’m going to look back on him for what he was: one of the most thrilling, explosive and dramatic players to ever wear a Chicago uniform.
You know the backstory at this point. Rose was born and raised in Englewood, one of Chicago’s most notoriously dangerous neighborhoods. Basketball was his escape, as he honed his talents with the ultimate goal of moving his mother and family out of Englewood and into better living conditions. In a stroke of draft lottery luck, the Bulls were granted the chance to draft him No. 1 overall in the 2008 draft. There was talk that the Bulls were considering Kansas State’s Michael Beasley with that pick, but let’s be real. It was just talk. The Bulls took Rose, a pairing that seemed destined to last for all of eternity.
Derrick Rose’s best traits as a basketball player were his blinding speed and athleticism. I will never forget the 2011 playoffs, where I watched Rose corral an outlet pass and take off with Mario Chalmers at least 25 feet ahead of him in transition. In three dribbles’ time, Rose had already dunked the ball, blowing right through Chalmers’ outstretched arms at the free throw line.
For Rose, the extraordinary was ordinary. People forget, but there was once a time where the most exciting thing that could happen in any sport was Derrick Rose getting the basketball in the open court. Every dunk was a genuine poster-worthy moment. His body contorted midair on layups in such a manner that if you tried to replicate it yourself, you would wedge the ball under the hoop and pull muscles you didn’t know you had in the process. His cool and collected on-the-court demeanor belied the absolute fury and force with which he played the game.
Of course, he wasn’t all just speed and dunks. You don’t win MVP that way. He was an underrated distributor, bumping his assist percentage up to 38.7 percent that year from 30.3 percent the year prior. His drive-and-kick game worked greatly to the benefit of his teammates, finding open lanes even as three, sometimes four dudes collapsed on top of him on the interior out of fear of what Rose would do if they didn’t.
His time atop the point guard totem pole was short, but every time he faced off against one of his elite peers, it felt like Rose was firmly ahead every step of the way. No one can deny Chris Paul’s prowess (ok, maybe some can, but we don’t listen to them), but watching a peak version Rose run circles around him in his own building easily had you wondering if there was any limit to how good Rose could be.
He was a clutch time fiend, with more late game dagger shots than you can shake a stick at. Even in the later phase of his Bulls career, that never wavered, like this mean overtime stepback jumper to hand the league-best Warriors one of two home losses that year.
While many have less than scrupulous things to say about Rose’s leadership qualities, one thing that should never have been in question is Rose’s dedication to his teammates. Four words in particular stick out in my mind: “I’m rolling with Keith.” Rose was notorious for his desire not to “recruit” new teammates to the Bulls during his tenure here (see: Anthony, Carmelo), but perhaps no instance was more memorable than when he expressed his desire to play with Keith Bogans — a 20 minute, 4.2 points per game shooting guard — instead of recruiting an improvement.
I’d be remiss not to mention the injuries. Torn knee ligaments derailed Rose’s Bulls career, and it would be a flat lie to say that Chicago basketball has ever really recovered since his ACL came undone on April 28, 2012. He was never the same player, and the chronicle of Bulls events that led up to his unceremonious trade to the New York Knicks (and afterwards) is nothing short of depressing. But much like how there once was a time that Derrick Rose could not be denied, we cannot deny the impact that he had on Chicago basketball. I speak from personal experience when I say that Rose helped sow the seeds for my love of the sport, as I watched him play and wondered how a human being could possibly move that fast.
Derrick Rose is the fourth best Bull of all time. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.
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