The confetti was a new touch, no doubt left over (if replenished) from last year’s Democratic National Convention and fired off anew. Otherwise, the occasion of the Bulls’ fifth NBA championship in seven years–and the third won here at home–was a familiar experience: the jubilation at the final buzzer, the playing of Queen’s “We Are the Champions” and the tape loop of Gary Glitter’s “Rock and Roll Part 2,” the players dancing on the scorers’ table and holding their children on lofty shoulders, the booing of NBA commissioner David Stern, Bulls owner Jerry Reinsdorf, and general manager Jerry Krause, followed by cheers for coach Phil Jackson, for each player, and especially for Michael Jordan, who was presented his fifth NBA finals MVP award. Even last year’s question haunted the proceedings: Will Jackson, Jordan, and Dennis Rodman be back next year? This year there was a sense that the event was even more evanescent than it had been a year ago, and the confetti enhanced that impression. It spun and fluttered and hung in the air, giving the United Center the look of a fishbowl that players, spectators, and media were sharing, as other fans peered in from living rooms, dens, and bars across the city, across the nation, and around the world.
“I can understand why Michael retired after the third time. I can’t even imagine what another run would be like, physically and mentally. It’s so grueling. And this is just two for me.”
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The satisfaction of last year’s championship seemed much more personal to the Bulls. They had wondered if they could do it, and they did; the struggle had largely been with themselves. This year’s struggle seemed to be much more external, a proof to others to cement their place in history. As with many Greek heroes, the Bulls dwelled on their previous exploits–not in a bragging way but simply as statements of fact. Jackson compared Jordan’s game-winning shot in the first game of the Jazz series to his miss in the first game of the 1991 finals against the Los Angeles Lakers, and Jordan admitted that he had thought of that game too, revealing that he always reviews his last-second misses before psyching himself up with memories of his successes when faced with the same opportunity. Jackson likewise compared Jordan’s game-winning assist in the sixth game to the way he repeatedly gave up the ball to John Paxson in the fourth quarter of the clinching game in 1991. “Teams can finally find a way to play with a superstar in the crunch when he finds his teammates and they rely [on each other] and come through and play the team game,” Jackson said. “That’s what makes a championship. And Michael showed that championship level tonight by moving the ball to Steve.” Even Kerr said that in the sixth game he had images of the bench players rallying the team to an inspired comeback, as they had in the final game in 1992 against the Portland Trail Blazers (a game he watched from home while a member of the Cleveland Cavaliers).
On the game-winning play Pippen inbounded the ball to Kukoc, then cut past a Jordan screen. This froze Jordan’s defender, Bryon Russell, who had to make sure Pippen wasn’t going to be open on a back-door play, and at that moment Jordan jumped out to take the pass from Kukoc. Let Jordan tell it from there.
From there the Bulls hung on like a boxer in a clinch. A two-minute scoring drought ended with the shot clock running down on the Jazz, the Bulls scrambling for a loose ball on the floor, and Stockton picking up the rolling ball and making another long three to put Utah up 84-81 with three minutes to go. Jordan kept the Bulls within reach of the lead with an answering basket, and then the teams exchanged free throws. In the final minute Jordan had a chance to put the Bulls ahead with two free throws, but he missed the second to leave the game tied at 85. Kukoc, however, kept the ball alive with a tap that landed at Jordan’s feet at the free throw line. He dribbled out and passed to Pippen in the low post who, drawing Russell on the double-team, passed out to an open Jordan. He launched a three, and no one knew how it got there–Jordan was almost staggering to the bench during breaks in play. But it did–88-85 Bulls. (That gave Jordan his final total of 38 points, with the lion’s share of those coming in the second and fourth quarters–talk about marshaling scant resources.) After a quick basket, the Jazz committed the critical mental mistake of the series. With less than 24 seconds to go, a single-possession game, they failed to foul on the inbounds pass. The Bulls broke the weak Utah press for a Longley dunk to seal what would turn out to be a 90-88 victory.
“And I was like, will I?” Kerr later added with a smile in the interview room.
“We are entitled to defend what we have until we lose it,” he added, tapping his fingers on the table so that they would rap ominously–boom, boom, boom–from my tape recorder on playback. “If we lose it, then you could look at it and say, ‘OK, let’s change it, go through rebuilding.’ No one’s guaranteeing that rebuilding will be two, three, four, or five years. The Cubs have been rebuilding for 42 years.”
