The Bulls’ championship ring presentation ceremony, which took place before last Saturday’s home opener, seemed slightly more self-satisfied this year than last. It had a pace of its own, more of a saunter than a swagger. The public address announcement was muffed at first, catching the Bulls still downstairs in the locker room. When they did begin to emerge, led by the departed Cliff Levingston and Craig Hodges in street clothes, they stepped out, one by one, into the spotlight and trotted or walked–but mostly walked–to center court to receive their rings and congratulations. The fans–the usual 18,676 of them–loved it, of course, but the players seemed to be enjoying it even more, especially the raising of the championship banner, performed by the players themselves. That was the enduring image of the night: those 12 tall men all reaching for the highest spot on the rope to pull it down and elevate the emblem of their achievement. There’s something in the pure pageantry of something so contrived and artificial; that’s what a banner like that is for. I’ll remember the players hoisting it until the day the Chicago Stadium is torn down, which unfortunately will not be long from now.
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Yes, self-satisfaction was the mood of the night, shared by the fans; as game time approached, I could actually hear Michael Jordan introduced for the first time in memory. And in the end even a poorly played loss couldn’t diminish that mood, perhaps because the tension of last season’s playoffs–which ended not five months ago–was still fresh, noticeable in its absence. So the Bulls suffered one of their typical early season home losses to an undeserving team, this time the Atlanta Hawks, this time on opening night. So what? There’s plenty of time to worry later–like in May.
The Hawks have always had miserable uniforms. Their insignia, which appears on their shorts, is supposed to be a hawk in profile, but it looks more like Pac-Man in mid-chomp. In addition, this season they’ve gone to a typeface on their jerseys that makes them look like cereal boxes. With their orange colors, they might just as well say “WHEATIES” as “HAWKS.” The backs of the Bulls’ uniforms, meanwhile, have an unusually opulent appearance this year; there’s a silky look to the red names and numbers, which perhaps will be lost after they’ve been through the wash a few times.
Then, however, with just under a minute to play, McCray was called for a stupid foul of Paul Graham, who made both free throws to put the Hawks back in front, 100-99. That’s how it ended. On the Bulls’ last possession, Jordan came down and was stuffed from behind by Wilkins on a last-second shot. “We just didn’t space the floor right, and consequently Michael got his shot blocked,” said Jackson. The referees called a jump ball, and Wilkins–who is Jordan’s equal as a leaper while holding a two-inch advantage on him in height–won the tip with a second left to give Atlanta the win.
