The macho, you’ve-got-to-play-hurt faction won’t like it, but what in the name of soft foot tissue was Scottie Pippen doing in Game 1 of the NBA Finals?
He wasn’t right in the Eastern Conference clincher against the Miami Heat. He wasn’t right limping gingerly to his medicine cabinet for some extra ginseng. And he wasn’t right as he popped off his courtside folding chair and into the laser light show during the pregame introductions of Sunday’s game against the Utah Jazz.
But with the memory of the 1990 migraine episode still a consideration, Pippen wasn’t about to miss the start of this one for anything less than amputation. It was a nice thought, but Pippen didn’t need to prove a thingespecially on one foot.
Even from the pricey seats at court’s edge you couldn’t gauge the pain. Only Pippen knew how much it really hurt. Still, it was obvious that he was no better than 75 percent of his usual self, if that.
Adrenalin and peer pressure can only mask so much. Pippen made his way into the starting lineup, but he was rarely in the flow of the first period.
He pulled down an early rebound. He sent a pass to Michael Jordan. He passed on an open three-point shot. He clanked a three-pointer off the iron. Pippen looked different, played different.
There was a block of a John Stockton layup by a leaping Pippen, but it came with a price. As he turned to run toward the Bulls’ side of the court, Pippen let loose with a Code-5 grimace that must have sent shivers down the team’s medical staff.
Should he have played at all? Should he have taken a seat for the entire game, figuring the series was destined for at least six games, maybe seven?
Pippen took a rest with about 4 minutes remaining in the quarter. It was just as well. He had spent much of the time floating at the perimeter. Utah’s Bryon Russell zipped past him as if Pippen were playing, well, on a tender foot.
But there will be no more talk of Pippen’s resolve. Forget the headache incident, which happened nearly 7 years to the day. And maybe after this one, the statute of limitations will expire on Pippen’s notorious 1.8-second mistake.
If nothing else, Pippen proved (maybe foolishly) that he tougher than anyone thought. Perhaps even tougher than he thought.
The NBC sideline reporters would later say that Pippen was in extreme pain, as if you couldn’t tell. He couldn’t push off on his foot. No, duh.
Tell us something we didn’t know, that Pippen at 75 percent is better than 75 percent of Toni Kukoc or 100 percent of anybody else on the Bulls bench. That Pippen no longer has to apologize to anyone anymore.
SECOND QUARTER: GARBAGE TIME ARRIVES EARLY
A tree gave its life so the NBA could tell a nation’s media that 175 countries are broadcasting these Finals in 41 different languages. Let’s hope the NBA has enough interpreters to explain how crummy the second period was for both teams.
It was flat. It was forgettable. It was 12 minutes of TV test patterns.
Earlier Sunday afternoon, in the United Center media workroom, a reporter sat quietly in his chair. He was asleep. He could have done the same thing during the second quarter and not have missed a thing.
There was no real theme to the period, mostly because there wasn’t much scoring. It began with Utah ahead, 18-17. It ended with Utah ahead, 42-38.
In between, there was a lot of nothing.
“I thought there might be a little more scoring,” Jazz coach Jerry Sloan would say later.
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The second quarter is the time for reserves, for Kukoc, for Randy Brown, for Brian Williams. Meanhile, the Jazz turned to the likes of Shandon Anderson, Antoine Carr and even Chris Morris, which should tell you how exciting it got.
Even old dependable–Dennis Rodman–couldn’t produce a tiny controversy. No blatantly cheap fouls. No flops. No technical fouls.
In fact, Rodman was as docile as a house cat. His 6 minutes on the floor were as quiet as his rainbow hair was loud.
He had his chances for an outburst or two. Late in the quarter he got into a tip-fest with Karl Malone under the hoop. Rodman needed two tips to push the ball into the basket and for his trouble, he received an autographed elbow from the strongest man on the court.
Malone will never say if it was a purpose elbow or not, but here’s guessing it was. And if wasn’t, Malone probably didn’t mind the view of Rodman checking to see if his nose was still attached to his face.
Rodman recovered and so did Pippen, who began resembling PippenCirca Game 4, Miami Heat Series. He committed the occasional silly turnover, but he also took a pass from Jordan and slammed down a dunk. He hit a free throw, then another. He also had a nice steal and breakaway layup with 29.7 seconds remaining in the period.
Pippen got the steal off third-year pro Howard Eisley, who should have known better. Eisley got greedy, thinking he could sneak past everyone, but especially Pippen.
Wrong.
“It was tough,” said Sloan afterward. “We probably shouldn’t have gone as quick on the play.”
Too late. Pippen made the layup and maybe energized himself with the steal.
Thank you, Howard.
THIRD QUARTER: JAZZ TURNOVERS KEEP BULLS CLOSE
NBC’s Matt Guokas was looking like a genius as the Bulls and Jazz trickled out of the lockerroms and onto the court for the start of the second half.
It was Guokas who had comes closest to picking a Utah upset. Guokas didn’t actually come right out and pick the Jazz, but he did mention the distinct possibility of Utah winning at least one game in Chicago. Better yet, he did it with the cameras on.
Of course, that was before the Jazz melted into a small puddle of nerves and shaky decisions. The Jazz did it at the worst possible time, when they could have built on their 4-point halftime lead and earned Guokas one of those prestigious Rudy Martzke compliments in Monday’s issue of USA Today.
Jazz Coach Jerry Sloan has a medium-sized threshold for mistakes. He’s human, so are his players. But Sloan did a slow simmer on the bench as he watched his team keep the Bulls close with an attack of the butterfingers and brain cramps.
In less than 90 seconds, the Jazz committed four knucklehead turnovers. The Bulls helped, but most of the heavy lifting was done by Utah.
Nobody was immune. Utah point guard John Stockton, who has more assists than anybody in the history of the league, tossed to passes away in that first minute and a half. He would finish the game with 12 assists, but also sevencount em’, seventurnovers. The turnover total was a career playoff high and also a season high in 1997.
He wasn’t alone. By the time the quarter was finished, so too was a little of Utah’s confidence. Howard Eisley came in for Stockton with 5:05 left in the period and picked up two turnovers, two fouls and five points.
In all, the Jazz had eight turnovers in the period, which is exactly how you keep the Bulls dangerously close.
“If you’re going to play basketball like that, you’re not going to have much chance to win,” Sloan grumbled later.
He was right. Nobody knew it at the time, except maybe Sloan and Bulls Coach Phil Jackson, but the Jazz turnovers might have been the invisible turning point in this game.
“I try to come in and give the team a boost coming off the bench,” Eisley said afterward. “I think I did a pretty good job of that.”
And Eisley was watching what game exactly? Eisley got his nine points, but Sloan didn’t need the two turnovers he chipped in.
This wasn’t a quarter for the ages, but it was a quarter that probably kept the Bulls within convenient viewing distance of the Jazz. Without Stockton having a case of the klutzes, without Eisley and Malone and Greg Ostertag doing their part in the mistake-laden Utah third period, maybe Guokas is 1-for-1 on pregame predictions.
FOURTH QUARTER: `MAILMAN’ FAILS TO DELIVER
The words will forever haunt Karl Malone.
“The Mailman doesn’t deliver on a Sunday.”
That’s what good friend Scottie Pippen said to Malone as he took his place on the foul line with 9.2 seconds remaining in the game. Said it with a smirk, but said it was just enough of an edge that there was no doubting the intent.
“The Mailman doesn’t deliver on a Sunday.”
Malone, his right palm. . . his shooting palm bloodied and raw from an earlier dunk, looked up toward the rim and saw a chance at victory, at further proof that he truly deserved the NBA’s Most Valuable Player award.
The score was tied, 82-82, and Malone was at the line because Rodman was stupid enough to grab the Utah forward in a bear hug while battling for a loose ball. Malone took his time, as he always does before taking a free throw. He spun the ball in his hands, mouthed a little something to himself, pretended to ignore Pippen and those seven little words.
The first attempt nearly left a dent on the rim. The second try wasn’t much better, as it banged against the iron before being retrieved by the Bulls. As the Bulls called a timeout with 7.5 seconds left to play, Malone slowly closed his eyes in disbelief. What could have been a one-point lead, a two-point lead was now no lead at all.
Billy Bob the United Center usher could have diagrammed the final play: See Jordan get the ball. See Jordan dribble. See Jordan shoot.
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“He ran the play to perfection,” Pippen would say later.
What play? How do you use a grease pencil to draw greatness on a bare clipboard? Jordan’s magic isn’t constrained by instructions. He does what he wants regardless of best intentions.
Rather than double-team Jordan, Sloan chose to stick his best defender on the Bulls star. That would be Bryon Russell, an inch taller than Jordan, but a foot shorter in stature and confidence.
Jordan needed just five dribbles to set up Russell for the final shot. On the fifth dribblea right-to-left crossoverRussell tried poking at the ball. He thought he had, he really did.
But Jordan was gone, a little puff of smoke that left Russell grasping at Air. Jordan took the 20-foot jumper, his right hand bent parallel to floor as the shot arced toward the basket.
You know what happened next. The net snapped to attention. Jordan didn’t smile, but he did clench his right fist. Steve Kerr stood in the lane and raised his arms. Randy Brown and Pippen sprinted over to Jordan for celebratory embraces.
Malone dropped his head and moved slowly toward the Jazz lockerroom. An opportunity and a game lost.
“Let me tell you something,” Malone said afterward. “I’m from. . . Louisiana and we don’t have any excuses there.”
Only the memory.