Coming out of this winter, I wondered if it is time for me to become an NBA widower. Do not get me wrong, my favorite NBA team was not The Seattle Supersonics; a team with almost four decades of NBA history, and a rabid fan base, which were given the slip by Oklahoma City snake oil salesmen. Rather my team The Chicago bulls was even more depressing, we watched as Kevin McHale pretty much all but bought the Eastern Conference championship for his beloved Boston Celtics. Then we watched the greatest player of this generation get wooed, and of course John Paxson, the man who had spent all his time acquiring assets for this scenario, choose to be sheepish, and decided his collection of young players was better than a team led by Kobe Bryant.
Fast forward a few months later, The Baby Bulls had become veteran Bulls, and acquired their selfish, undisciplined, and overall bad which of course killed their coaches prompting this lengthened Coaching search, but also Cleveland’s pile of crap (Neck beard” Gooden, and “Offensive set Killer” Hughes) in exchange for his pile of crap (Malcontent and overrated” Wallace, and “Much older” Joe Smith). Meanwhile Kobe Bryant was coasting to the MVP, and a possible date in the Finals. The Bulls who were picked to contend for the Eastern Conference championship were now farther from a championship than in those Pink Floyd years.
