to taunt Jordan during games about his selfish play, his baldness (thatâs a specialty of John Salley), and how he enjoys being a loser. Salley, a bad stand-up comic who has earned a stage because he is seven feet tall and looks like Arsenio Hall, is a particularly bitter antagonist.
âThereâs not one guy who sets the tone on our team,â Salley liked to tell reporters during the 1990 playoffs. âThatâs what makes us a team. If one guy did everything, we wouldnât be a team. Weâd be the Chicago Bulls.â
And this, too, from Salley: âWe donât care who scores the points as long as we win. It would be hard for Michael Jordan to play on this team because heâs got to score all the points. I donât think heâd fit in here.â
Jordan burned over comments like that, but he seemed helpless to pay back the Pistons. Jordan was perhaps the leagueâs best when angered, dunking over seven-footers after theyâd blocked his shot, scoring wildly against boastful rookies, and surging to great heights when opponents scored on him regularly or tried to show him up. But Jordan couldnât make it happen against the Pistons, and his teammates were unable to ease the burden he felt.
In Game 1, John Paxson and Craig Hodges missed all 8 of their field-goal attempts and Scottie Pippen was thwarted by Rodman. âI seem to spend too much time worrying about how heâs going to play me,â Pippen would say later. Among Detroit starters, only Joe Dumars would score in double figures, with 27 points, but it would be enough.
In Game 2, Jordan limped on his injured hip and leg, and the Bulls fell. Pippen and Horace Grant scored 17 each, but it was hardly enough to make up for the ailing Jordan, who scored only 20. Dumars scored 31.
And so Jordan left the game without speaking to anyone, leaving the media scrambling for reasons and Jordanâs teammates searching for answers. It was not a happy group that headed back to Chicago for Game 3. Jordan believed his team had let him down when he was hurt. The team believed heâd let them down by failing to face the media after such a crucial loss. Sure, several noted, he was there long into the night after he scored 50 points, but where was he when he scored only 20? And his man, Dumars, had burned him in two straight games, and had clearly been the difference in Detroitâs taking a 2â0 lead. The players agreed: We hear it from him when we donât play well, but when he doesnât play well itâs still our fault?
Center Dave Corzine, a former Bull, had once explained it well: âItâs hard playing on a team with Michael Jordan because youâre always the reason the team lost.â It certainly couldnât be Jordanâs fault, everyone usually agreed; he was the best, wasnât he? There was not much anyone on the team could say publicly.
But Jordan would be ready for Game 3 back in the Stadium. He was angry and chastened, a little contrite perhaps, but also demanding payment for assorted sins.
Phil Jackson did the talking for the next few days following Tuesdayâs Game 2. Jordan, usually playful during practice, wasnât saying much. After practice Wednesday, with the media waiting and watching, most of the players skipped out the back door directly to the parking lot, which is what they always did when they wanted to avoid the press. But after complaints from the media, Jackson told Jordan he would have to go out the front door on Thursdayâto run the gauntlet, as the coaches liked to say, although the demands on Jordan from the local media (and the national media, too, for that matter) were never threatening. Jordan carefully cultivated his image, maintaining an air of affability while the media fed a Jordan-crazed public a series of well-crafted cliches. It was a formula that played in Peoria, with sponsors like Wheaties, McDonaldâs, Chevrolet and Nike lining up to
âThereâs not one guy who sets the tone on our team,â Salley liked to tell reporters during the 1990 playoffs. âThatâs what makes us a team. If one guy did everything, we wouldnât be a team. Weâd be the Chicago Bulls.â
And this, too, from Salley: âWe donât care who scores the points as long as we win. It would be hard for Michael Jordan to play on this team because heâs got to score all the points. I donât think heâd fit in here.â
Jordan burned over comments like that, but he seemed helpless to pay back the Pistons. Jordan was perhaps the leagueâs best when angered, dunking over seven-footers after theyâd blocked his shot, scoring wildly against boastful rookies, and surging to great heights when opponents scored on him regularly or tried to show him up. But Jordan couldnât make it happen against the Pistons, and his teammates were unable to ease the burden he felt.
In Game 1, John Paxson and Craig Hodges missed all 8 of their field-goal attempts and Scottie Pippen was thwarted by Rodman. âI seem to spend too much time worrying about how heâs going to play me,â Pippen would say later. Among Detroit starters, only Joe Dumars would score in double figures, with 27 points, but it would be enough.
In Game 2, Jordan limped on his injured hip and leg, and the Bulls fell. Pippen and Horace Grant scored 17 each, but it was hardly enough to make up for the ailing Jordan, who scored only 20. Dumars scored 31.
And so Jordan left the game without speaking to anyone, leaving the media scrambling for reasons and Jordanâs teammates searching for answers. It was not a happy group that headed back to Chicago for Game 3. Jordan believed his team had let him down when he was hurt. The team believed heâd let them down by failing to face the media after such a crucial loss. Sure, several noted, he was there long into the night after he scored 50 points, but where was he when he scored only 20? And his man, Dumars, had burned him in two straight games, and had clearly been the difference in Detroitâs taking a 2â0 lead. The players agreed: We hear it from him when we donât play well, but when he doesnât play well itâs still our fault?
Center Dave Corzine, a former Bull, had once explained it well: âItâs hard playing on a team with Michael Jordan because youâre always the reason the team lost.â It certainly couldnât be Jordanâs fault, everyone usually agreed; he was the best, wasnât he? There was not much anyone on the team could say publicly.
But Jordan would be ready for Game 3 back in the Stadium. He was angry and chastened, a little contrite perhaps, but also demanding payment for assorted sins.
Phil Jackson did the talking for the next few days following Tuesdayâs Game 2. Jordan, usually playful during practice, wasnât saying much. After practice Wednesday, with the media waiting and watching, most of the players skipped out the back door directly to the parking lot, which is what they always did when they wanted to avoid the press. But after complaints from the media, Jackson told Jordan he would have to go out the front door on Thursdayâto run the gauntlet, as the coaches liked to say, although the demands on Jordan from the local media (and the national media, too, for that matter) were never threatening. Jordan carefully cultivated his image, maintaining an air of affability while the media fed a Jordan-crazed public a series of well-crafted cliches. It was a formula that played in Peoria, with sponsors like Wheaties, McDonaldâs, Chevrolet and Nike lining up to
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