I remember when the Bulls drafted Bobby Portis. Tall, gangly.

I didn’t know who he was, I wasn’t writing a blog,

I didn’t pay attention to college basketball.

I watched his highlights on YouTube the next day, you might still find them there.

I thought, “His eyes are big, like he has no lids.”

I thought, “He can score.”

 

Bobby was a Bull.

Bobby was a scrub.

Bobby was scrappy.

Bobby was a pup.

Bobby had energy.

Bobby had fight.

Bobby could score.

Bobby would score. A lot.

Bobby would work. A lot.

Bobby would lead.

 

He played for pride.

He wanted to be the best.

He worked on his game.

He played for his family.

He played for Chicago.

He played for the name…

on the front of his jersey.

He would stare down opponents even when his team was down by double digits.

 

I remember when the Bulls signed Jabari Parker. Tall, pudgy.

I knew who he was, I was writing a blog.

I knew he was Chicago. Simeon, like D Rose. Then Duke.

I watched his highlights on YouTube for months leading up to it. You can still find them there.

I thought, “This might be a mistake, he gets injured too much.”

I thought, “Damn he can score! And pass! And run an offense!”

 

Jabari was a Bull.

Jabari disdained defense.

Jabari was out of shape.

Jabari was on the bench.

Jabari had to play.

Jabari had to find his comfort zone.

Jabari could score.

Jabari would score. And pass.

Jabari would work on his defense. And rebounding.

Jabari would start.

 

He played for pride

He wanted to earn his place.

He worked on his game.

He played for his family.

He played for his city, Chicago.

He played for the name…

on the back of his jersey.

He became the most efficient scoring threat on the team.

 

They were both perched.

Two birds ready to take flight.

 

Bobby flying for that sweet multi-million multi-year deal.

Jabari flying for the next dream/team of his career.

 

One stone-

cold

unexpected,

yet

completely

anticipated,

trade.

 

I remember when the Bulls traded for Otto Porter Jr. Tall, talented…