What makes the night unlike any other in Chicago is the knowing, and it is the not knowing.
It is the end of the Age of Jordan, or maybe not. There yet may be another encore, but not likely. The hints are there, more as fanciful hope than as hard axiom.
More Top Picks Best Cocktail Smokers For Enthusiasts
The inevitable does seem imminent, the final consequence of a season full of nit-picking and cross-insulting and waffling and guessing and speculating, as well as some pretty nifty basketball.
All of that can be delayed and prolonged no more, for the calendar has caught the Bulls.
Something must end at the United Center Friday night, if just a single home basketball season, but who truly imagines it is only that? Not Scottie Pippen.
“I really believe,” Pippen said, “this is the last run for this ballclub.”
Pippen’s most recent pronouncement on how he fits into the morning and the months after is only narrowly auspicious, for Pippen seems the most certain to flee.
“I have no intention of coming back,” Pippen said, acknowledging that he had hinted at staying on a few days ago.
“No intention” is not “no,” and that follows the advice of Michael Jordan, who said that he once closed a door and had to reopen it.
“I told Scottie to keep his options open,” Jordan said. “I think he is entitled to find out his worth, and whatever choices he may have to do to get that, either with the Bulls or somewhere else, I want that for him.”
Championships still are too rare in Chicago, even Bulls championships, for the conversation to be about options and undoing the greatest sports dynasty of this town.
There is an NBA Finals to win, a basketball game to play, but how incidental that is to the magnitude of the occasion.
Never has there been so poignant a moment so clearly known ahead of time, no matter the score. More than a single basketball series is ending. It is the conclusion of a great adventure, shared by a community and a sports team.
“When you are trying to finish off things,” Jordan said, “thoughts can creep in.”
Oh, can they ever.
Did we know when Solti conducted his last piece? I don’t remember. Did we read Royko’s last column aware there would be no more? Of course, not.
Which building is Mies van der Rohe’s last? Who knew what Fermi was doing with atoms? Did the world truly appreciate Muddy Waters until he was gone?
The last of Jordan may come with a ticket stub.
Schoolchildren know the important Chicago dates–Oct. 8, 1871, (Mrs. O’Leary’s cow gets nervous). Feb. 14, 1929, (Al Capone sends a valentine). Aug. 8, 1988, (lights go on at Wrigley Field).
And now we have June 12, 1998.
The night Chicago died? The night Chicago was orphaned, more like.
What to wear, widow’s weeds, a clown face? How to act, happy, sad. Pick cheerful music, Steve Schanwald, but somewhere near the end, save a spot for Auld Lang Syne.
We’ll raise a of cup o’ kindness yet . . .
“From the beginning we wanted to play and win our last game,” Jordan said. “And what evolves over the summer will make me think about what this game actually meant.
“Either the team is going to be broken up and Phil is going to go his way and I am going to go mine and Scottie is going to go his . . . That is when you reminisce about the game.
More Top Picks Best Smart Light Bulbs For Seniors With Vision Issues
“At this moment you’ve got to try and treat it as though we’re finishing another season. If it happens to be my last game, I will think of that down the road.”
A sixth NBA championship for the Bulls is as inevitable as the cosmetically disguised bald spot on Karl Malone’s head. Doubt has disappeared like Malone at crunch time.
It will come, if not here, then there, and it will be fine, the full half dozen championships, shaming the booty of any other Chicago sports team.
A great time for the Bulls, for Chicago. So why does it feel like a funeral and not a christening?
Last call, and party smart.