First the good news. Will Perdue has not lost a step. On the other hand, that’s like saying a warthog hasn’t lost its pantyhose . . .
The Bulls are obligated by schedule and duty to do whatever that was they were doing Tuesday night for another 78 games. Some may be tempted to call it basketball, there being a vague resemblance to the game that used to take Chicago’s breath away.
Still does, I suppose, like a landfill or unreliable plumbing.
Others might call it nose wiping. Or teeth picking. Egg sucking. Choose a euphemism. In kindness to the Bulls of memory, these Bulls have to come predescribed. Rotten. Woeful. Bottom-feeding. Pitiful. I’ve seen them all already.
A 23-point drubbing and fourth double-digit loss in four games inspires all sorts of labels, but the key is to remember to pronounce them while holding your nose.
That would be the bad news, unless you are an opponent and then what you do is show up early and try not to drool.
Take the Phoenix Suns, a team with ambition and both Jason Kidd and Anfernee Hardaway, who arrived at the United Center never having won a game in the house Michael built. This put them dead even with the Elton Brand Bulls, who have not won in the building either.
Chances are good the Suns will win here again before the Bulls (or the Blackhawks, come to think of it).
“Give the Bulls credit,” said Suns coach Danny Ainge.
The more credit the Bulls can get, the better his team’s 103-80 victory looks.
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“Our players eventually will tell us who they are,” said Bulls coach Tim Floyd, as if he wasn’t listening at the start of the game.
The Bulls still amplify and shout the introductions of the players, which tends not to be a salute as much as an accusation. The illumination that follows the Bulls onto the floor has the feel of a prison yard searchlight.
I suggest they turn the thing out and whisper the names. Or use aliases.
“And now–shhhhhh–from parts unknown . . .”
Have the Bulls thought of playing in fake glasses and a mustache? No need. Just imitate Hersey Hawkins, the invisible starter. When last seen, Hawkins was . . . wait a minute, has anyone actually seen Hawkins? Other than on the side of a milk carton, I mean.
“Hersey is an old pro,” said Floyd, providing one form of identification.
Whether the Bulls are the worst basketball team in the history of paid basketball teams is not much to build a season around, but any identity is better than none.
Certainly Randy Brown has to be the worst point guard in the history of paid point guards, assuming Brown is not too embarrassed to take his money. Brown plays point guard like a shoplifter. He brings the ball up like he’s trying to get through a leather detector. The ball clearly is not his and all he wants to do is get rid of it before somebody catches him.
That obligation usually falls to veteran Toni Kukoc, to whom this menagerie is supposed to look for guidance. Someone made a movie out of the leadership Kukoc is capable of. The Blair Witch Project. Now, like the real Bulls, only on video.
Kukoc played only four minutes in the second half, giving way to ringless ciphers such as Michael Ruffin and Fred Hoiberg. This is not to be taken as a disapproval of Kukoc, said Floyd, as if it mattered.
Likewise, No. 1 draft choice Elton Brand was benched for most the second half as Floyd ran in guys who used to play for him at Iowa State, when the world and basketball was a happier place for him as well as for us.
Brand is not going to become rookie of the year playing like this, a non-rebounding, poor shooting grunt. Brand too often gets his shot blocked by shorter and slighter players.
There were brief flashes of the triangle, but more often the Bulls seemed to be running what could be called a flapjack offense. Sooner or later they are going to turn it over.
At least one old Bull was on the winning side. Luc Longley was back for the first time since the team represented by the last banner in the rafters was shattered by spite.
“Weird,” said Longley. “It was odd and different coming here to play. That was from the whole gamut of being at the other end of the court and none of the guys still being here.”
Hey, Chicago misses them more than you do, Luc.