The Jordan Rules (25 page)

The Bulls were starting to hit bottom, and it wouldn't be a quick climb back out.

Word had been circulating around the league the last several days that the Bulls and Denver Nuggets had agreed to a deal for Walter Davis. With the Denver season turning into a disaster, Davis wanted out and had been calling Jordan every few days to ask what he'd heard. The Bulls had sent a scout to each of Denver's last four games. Many believed Davis could be the final piece of the championship puzzle for the Bulls, including Jordan, who argued regularly that the Bulls needed more scoring off the bench and it was clear that Hopson couldn't provide it.

The Nuggets called as the Bulls were heading to New Jersey Tuesday, January 22, for Wednesday's game against the Nets. A deal was close, but not with the Bulls. It would involve Portland giving up Drazen Petrovic and the Nets giving up a future first-round draft pick. The Nuggets wanted a pick now, but they'd wait for New Jersey's, which could be a high selection. What did the Bulls want to do?

Krause contacted Reinsdorf. They might need to clear a roster space for Davis. Reinsdorf was unwilling to release Hopson because he would also have to pay Hopson more than $900,000 for the 1991–92 season. Hodges was signed through the same season at $700,000, and the team didn't want to give up on Williams quite yet. Everyone else but Paxson and Cartwright had long-term deals, and those two were starters. But all the Bulls owed Cliff Levingston was a buyout of about $400,000 after the 1990–91 season. “Go ahead,” Reinsdorf said. “Tell Phil we'll release Levingston if he wants Davis.”

Krause called Jackson when the team arrived in New Jersey. The deal had to be done now, Krause said, because Denver was about to move. We should be able to do it for a first-round pick, so if you want Davis, let's go.

Jackson met with his coaches and discussed the relative merits of Davis and Levingston. The verdict: Let the deal pass. Jackson said Levingston would be helpful in the playoffs. He felt the same way about Hopson. There were too many questions about Davis's defense: Whom could he guard in the last minute of a game with Detroit?

The announcement came just as the Bulls were arriving at Byrne Arena. Jordan was standing in a rampway to the main arena, waiting to go out for his pregame shooting drill, while two teams of teenagers finished a game. He'd heard the report of the deal and was furious. As two of the boys rushed by, one bumped Jordan and exulted, “I touched Michael Jordan.”

“As soon as we get back, I'm calling Reinsdorf,” Jordan fumed. “Krause has messed everything up again. He can't do anything. We don't get Walter Davis and we won't get LaSalle [Thompson, the Indiana forward rumored to be coming to the Bulls]. You'll see, we won't do anything. He's too scared and nobody wants to deal with him. We can't get anything done because of him. I'm going to tell Reinsdorf when I get back that it's either me or him. If he wants to keep Krause, fine, I'll tell him to trade me. But this is it. It's got to stop here.”

The game didn't do much to change Jordan's mood. The Bulls lost, 99–95, to the 13–26 Nets. But the knife went deeper and twisted for Jordan. It was Reggie Theus who scored 8 of the Nets' last 10 points after the Bulls had taken a 90–88 lead. Jordan missed a pair of jumpers and Theus stole a pass intended for Jordan and scored, all in the last ninety-five seconds.

Jordan hated Theus as much as he did any player in the league. Jordan disliked hot dogs like New York's Mark Jackson, but his face always turned hard and cold against Theus. He'd angrily slap Theus's hands away hard, with a short, chopping slap, when Theus tried a hand check. It was a common defensive move against Jordan and he'd usually just push the defender's hand away. Against Theus, his response was more like a karate blow.

“He tried to undercut me in Kansas City my first year in the league,” Jordan said once when asked about why he disliked Theus so.

“I hate his game,” Jordan said another time. “He's so selfish, always berating the referees and yelling out there.”

None of the reasons made sense. The story around the Bulls, though, was that Theus had briefly dated Jordan's wife, Juanita, before Jordan met her. Whatever the reason, Jordan went home from New Jersey angry, and when the team met for practice Thursday in the Multiplex, he hadn't cooled down.

Stopped by a reporter and asked about the Davis deal, Jordan took off after Krause again. “If I were general manager,” he said, “we'd be a better team.”

The newspapers were full of stories of the latest Jordan-Krause rift. It wasn't a fair fight. Jordan was beloved; Krause was loathed. Krause was in tears when he talked to Reinsdorf. The owner had to do something. This could not be allowed to happen. Players could not speak like this. Reinsdorf would have to blast Jordan in the newspapers. Reinsdorf told Krause he was not about to get into a war with Jordan, that he would handle it his own way.

The game the next night against Miami was almost an afterthought. The Bulls led by 17 points ten minutes into the game and started emptying the bench. The only concern was the nine minutes played by Cartwright after he hurt his hip in a fall. It would eventually necessitate his sitting out a few games, but the Bulls' run of mostly good fortune continued: This was their third game against Miami, and while the Heat were not formidable at full strength, their best player, Rony Seikaly, had missed all three games. The Bulls already had played Philadelphia without Johnny Dawkins and Rick Mahorn, Cleveland without Mark Price and John Williams, the Clippers without Benoit Benjamin, the Bullets without Darrell Walker, and the list was getting longer. Teams seemed to be coming into the Stadium injured or at the end of long road trips. Isiah Thomas was now out for most of the rest of the regular season after wrist surgery; Larry Bird's back was acting up and he was still out. Maybe this would be one of those years when everything just broke right and the Bulls took advantage. Good fortune was smiling on the Bulls, but nobody was smiling back.

Before the game against the Heat, Jackson issued a gag order of sorts. If players had something to say about the way they were treated or about the team, they should come to him first. A little rebellion now and then was fine, Jackson knew—Jefferson had called it the medicine for the sound health of government—but this was becoming an overdose.

Later in the season, Jackson would be asked about the period of late January and early February. “We did have some rough times,” he admitted, “but every team goes through periods like that.” But he also knew that greatness rarely comes easily. He'd referred once to the Graham Greene quote from
The Third Man,
about the Borgias' rule in Italy in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries and how it had resulted in war, murder, and terrorism, yet from that era came Michelangelo, da Vinci, and the Renaissance. In Switzerland, where they lived brotherly love, peace, and democracy for eight centuries, all they could claim was the cuckoo clock.

It was left to John Paxson to sum up the craziness. Paxson, perhaps more than anybody on the team, had a truly serious grievance and had been treated as heartlessly by the Bulls as anyone. Only Scott Williams earned less than he did. He'd been a loyal team player, but it was beginning to be apparent that the Bulls wouldn't even make a serious offer to keep him after the season. And Krause was still telling the coaches that Toni Kukoc could be a starting point guard in the NBA by next season.

“I've never seen anything like this,” Paxson said. “Here we are winning [the Bulls were now 29–12, on course to break the team record of fifty-seven wins, and tied for first in the Central Division with the Pistons] and nobody's happy. I was with the Spurs and we went from winning the division to winning thirty-seven games and guys still enjoyed playing. They enjoyed the game and had a good time. But nobody wants to be here, except maybe me, and they don't want me. Everyone wants to play somewhere else; nobody's happy or having any fun. Guys want more minutes or more shots or more money. They want guys traded and management guys fired. And what if we weren't winning? It's just not supposed to be like this. Is it?”

2/1 at Dallas; 2/3 at L.A. Lakers; 2/4 at Sacramento; 2/7 at Detroit; 2/12 v. Atlanta; 2/14 at New York; 2/16 v. New Jersey; 2/18 at Cleveland; 2/19 v. Washington; 2/22 v. Sacramento; 2/23 v. Charlotte; 2/26 v. Boston

N
INETY MINUTES BEFORE THE
J
ANUARY 31 GAME AGAINST THE
San Antonio Spurs that opened a four-game Western Conference trip, Michael Jordan was sitting in front of his locker stall in the cramped visitors' locker room. He felt like one of the last defenders of the Alamo who had trod this ground 155 years before. He'd rarely felt lower. Jordan was holding the portable disc player he carries everywhere, and had on his headphones. He might have been sleeping, though it was hard to tell because he was wearing dark sunglasses. He wasn't going out to shoot before the game for the first time in more than two months. He hadn't said anything earlier in the day at shoot-around.

“What's wrong with the General?” Hodges asked Grant, the two eyeing Jordan from across the room. “He's been in a big-time pout all day.”

“I don't know,” Grant responded. “Must be some problems at home.”

In a sense, Grant was right; Jordan's dark mood stemmed from a conversation he'd had back home in Chicago—not with any family member, but with Bulls owner Jerry Reinsdorf.

The talk was triggered by Jordan's outburst about Krause in New Jersey. Reinsdorf had been obligated to respond publicly, and the situation clearly made him uncomfortable, though his support for Krause was unequivocal. “Michael Jordan,” said Reinsdorf, “is undoubtedly the greatest player that ever lived. He's probably one of the three greatest competitors of all time in any sport, the other two being Jake LaMotta and Muhammad Ali. Guys you had to kill to beat. Michael's like that. But he's still a player and, quite frankly, players don't know a whole lot about coaching and they don't know a whole lot about what it takes to make a deal. If Michael knew what we tried to accomplish and the pitfalls and problems we ran into [trying to obtain Walter Davis], he probably wouldn't feel as frustrated. But he doesn't, and we can't sit and explain to every player what moves we are trying to make. And we cannot single out one player and make him a consultant to the general manager.”

Jordan wasn't all that surprised by Reinsdorf's attitude. He liked Reinsdorf and respected him for his ability to make money; that and a low golf score ranked highest in qualities Jordan generally admired. In fact, Jordan had just gone into a partnership with Reinsdorf in a sports paraphernalia business, putting up his own money, something he didn't do casually. Reinsdorf was trying to put off renegotiating Jordan's contract by cutting him in on some investments, but the league got wind of the plans and said that any such profits Jordan received would count under the Bulls' salary cap unless Jordan had invested his own money.

Nonetheless, Jordan still didn't care for Reinsdorf's choice of general managers, and his outburst after the Davis deal, he told friends, was not merely out of frustration and emotion.

Several of Reinsdorf's minority partners in the Bulls had approached Jordan about getting Krause out. Reinsdorf was the team's managing partner under the original agreement, so he had total say on basketball operations. No case could be made for mismanagement or violation of fiduciary responsibility since the Bulls were one of the most profitable teams in the league. So the partners went to Jordan. They, too, wanted Krause out, and they thought only Jordan's outrage could get him removed.

“I figured I'd try to put the pressure on him to do something about Krause,” Jordan said about his first volley of remarks after the team returned from New Jersey in late January. His eyes were hard and cold as he spoke. “This thing isn't over. I'm gonna get that guy fired yet.”

Reinsdorf called Jordan and asked him to come over to his North Shore home just before the team left for San Antonio. It was the first time Reinsdorf ever had invited a player to his home. Reinsdorf recognized that Krause had weaknesses, he told Jordan, but he believed Krause had done an adequate job. “We are in first place,” he said. “Jerry's done some good things. He got Scottie [Pippen] and Horace in the draft and he got us a center [Cartwright].” Reinsdorf knew Krause could be annoying with his secretive ways, and he knew he wasn't the ideal person to represent the team in public. But he liked Krause's moxie. And the team was winning. So what was the problem?

Jordan insisted that Krause was incapable of making any but the draft-choice deals he'd made, that his lack of personal skills kept him from making serious deals and getting players who could already have helped the Bulls win a title. He wasn't a good judge of talent, Jordan said. The Bulls should have a former player as general manager.

“Someone perhaps like Elgin Baylor?” Reinsdorf asked. Baylor was one of the game's all-time greats, but the Clippers continued to sputter under his direction despite years of top draft picks.

“I play golf with these general managers all summer,” Jordan said, “and they all tell me they don't want to deal with Krause because he's always trying to rip them off, get something for nothing. It's why we don't do anything.”

“Jerry likes to get value,” Reinsdorf explained.

Despite the team's success, Jordan said he still believed the team Krause had put together lacked the ability to win a title. Krause's recent first-round picks of Perdue, Armstrong, and King weren't helping much; Grant was playing well, but he couldn't be trusted, and neither could Pippen. “You know he hasn't shown up for our two biggest games yet,” Jordan pointed out, referring to Pippen's famous injury and migraine in those final playoff games against Detroit. Jordan said he'd warned them about Hopson—even given up money at their request—and why was all this time being spent on Toni Kukoc? The Bulls didn't need him and he wasn't going to be any good anyway. And Jordan thought the coaches were wrong about not needing Walter Davis. They needed the scoring off the bench, and come playoff time everyone would notice. And if not Davis, what about Tony Campbell or LaSalle Thompson? The Bulls also needed another frontcourt player.

“Well,” Reinsdorf pointed out to Jordan, “you're not helping any. We're working on several deals, but every time you come out criticizing the general manager, it makes it look like Jerry has to do something and that makes it harder on us. People start thinking we're desperate and want to take advantage of us.”

Reinsdorf hoped he wasn't being too hard on Jordan. He always felt they had a good relationship, even if he sometimes had to take a hard line. A few years ago Jordan had come in to talk to him, upset about the team's play and demanding trades. He wanted Horace Grant out, among others. He was going to go public with his complaints. “Do you want people to start thinking of you like they do Isiah Thomas?” Reinsdorf said.

It stopped Jordan in his tracks. Thomas had recently been blamed for getting Adrian Dantley traded for Mark Aguirre. Thomas was being reviled in the media as a spoiled, meddling player. Reinsdorf knew the effect of his comments immediately. He knew Jordan's feelings about Thomas and knew Jordan could see how Thomas was being condemned. Jordan backed off.

“Imagine how this makes your teammates feel,” Reinsdorf continued. “What are they supposed to think when their captain says we're not good enough? How are we supposed to get the most out of them? And then how are we supposed to make a deal when you're knocking your players? Are other teams going to want them when you say they're not good enough?”

Jordan was baffled and speechless. He knew Reinsdorf was right, and he didn't know what to say. He believed the Bulls were going about this all wrong, but Reinsdorf made sense. As he always does. Jordan felt small, like a kid in the principal's office. The conversation eventually turned to lighter topics and Jordan soon left to go home. His little speech had had little impact. Things would remain as they were. They weren't going to make a deal, Jordan thought. Krause was too scared and Reinsdorf was too satisfied. Jordan called Falk. Had he checked any further on whether Jordan could get out of his contract for next year?

The Bulls' road problems continued in San Antonio. They knew they couldn't hope to stop David Robinson with Cartwright, since Robinson is so much quicker and a better jumper. But the Bulls' strength is their overall quickness, and they're very effective at sending the double-team at the other team's best player from different directions. The Bulls pounced on Robinson from all over, taking a reasonably comfortable 82–75 lead going into the fourth quarter. But with the reserves in, Robinson looked like Santa Anna's army to the Bulls. He came from everywhere and led the Spurs on a 13–2 run in the first four minutes of the quarter that put the Spurs back ahead. Jordan was fuming on the bench. Jackson had fallen into a rotation in which the reserves started the fourth quarter. Jordan felt the Bulls were being beaten too often at that point in the game. “We get the lead and they let it go and then we have to get it back,” he told Bach on the bench. “We're not going to be able to do that all the time. Tell him to get me back in there.”

It was 88–84 Spurs when Jordan returned. He scored on three straight possessions and the Bulls tied the game, but the Bulls couldn't control Rod Strickland, who got loose for a pair of drives. The Spurs held on for a 106–102 victory as Jordan fouled out trying to steal the ball with two seconds left and the Spurs ahead by 2.

Jackson said Jordan had tired at the end. Jordan, who led the Bulls with 36 points despite hitting just 9 of 22 shots, said he wasn't tired and wished he'd been in the game earlier in the fourth quarter. Robinson had 31 points and 17 rebounds.

To many, Robinson was already the league's most valuable player. He wasn't as dominant as Jordan, but the consensus around the league seemed to be that he was the better teammate, even if he couldn't carry a team for as long as Jordan. Robinson had touched on this in an interview when the Bulls were in town. He didn't mean to discredit Jordan, but the message was clear.

“Michael is more of a non-basketball-fan type of player,” Robinson said. “He always looks great out there hanging, jumping, dribbling around. But if you know a lot about the game, you appreciate what I do more. It's more basic.”

The talk about Robinson versus Jordan reminded some among the Bulls of a story Rod Thorn had once told about his time with Julius Erving. Larry Kenon, then Erving's teammate on the ABA Nets, was having some problems with his game and not feeling too good about his play. He was a scorer, and the team needed him badly. Erving went to Thorn, who was an assistant coach, and said he was going to take care of the problem that night.

Every time Erving got the ball and the double-team closed in, he hit Kenon for a close-in jumper or a dunk. Kenon scored 30 points and afterward the reporters had crowded around him to ask him about breaking out of his slump. Kenon was ebullient, telling writers about how he'd gotten his game back and how he knew he was on the way to many more games like this. Erving had 12 points in the win, and the few writers who went to talk with him were directed by Erving to the evening's star.

“Can you see M.J. doing something like that?” wondered Grant.

The Bulls moved on to Dallas the next night to play the Mavericks, a game they figured to win easily. Dallas was staggering; Fat Lever and Roy Tarpley had been out the entire season with knee injuries, and the Mavericks were going to miss the playoffs.

Again, Jordan wouldn't go out and shoot before the game; this time he sat no more than a foot from the TV screen, watching the endlessly rolling pregame tape of a previous Mavericks game, again wearing his dark glasses. He hadn't joked with anyone, hadn't talked to anyone.

“I know something's bothering you,” said Bach. No one had talked to Jordan all day, and finally Bach had come up behind him, ready to listen if Jordan had a problem. Bach also knew the team needed a win with the Lakers coming up next, and Jackson, too, was concerned about Jordan. “You've got to come out into the world.”

Jordan kept looking at the screen.

“I don't want to see the world,” he whispered, never turning his head back to Bach.

What Jordan did see was another failure of the reserves to hold a lead at the start of the fourth quarter. The Bulls regrouped enough to pull away for an 11-point win, but the fact remained that they had struggled against a weak team. Jordan remained distant from his teammates, Pippen was worrying about his contract negotiations, and Grant, Cartwright, and Paxson were getting few shots. There were a good many slouching backbones as the players filed out of the arena. The days in Texas had been soft and mild, but the nights, for the Bulls, had been filled with anger and resentment.

As the team moved on to Los Angeles to play the Lakers, the coaches talked about what could be done. They talked about the complete absence of team unity, and Jackson decided he'd talk to the team on Sunday morning before the game. Bach said they needed to be awakened by something. “Shoot a hostage,” he told Jackson in his colorful, military-laced dialogue. “Trade someone and get their attention.”

Krause had been in Dallas to look at Derek Harper. And Bach had been dispatched after the game to feel out Mavericks assistant coach Bob Zuffelato, a longtime friend and former assistant with Bach in Golden State. Krause told Bach he'd be on a reconnaissance mission, but Bach said he wouldn't betray his friend; he'd talk to Zuffelato, but wouldn't undermine him.

What he heard from Zuffelato was not encouraging. The Mavericks wanted to give it one more try when Tarpley and Lever returned from injuries, and it would take more than Stacey King, B.J. Armstrong, and draft picks, which the Bulls were offering, to get Harper. So that deal didn't look promising.

The trade talk was unsettling to the players. “I wish the [NBA's February 21 trading] deadline were past,” said Paxson as the team prepared to play a February 3 game against the Lakers. “Even if I lost my starting job, I'd just like to know.” Armstrong met again with his agent, Arn Tellem, after the team arrived in Los Angeles on Saturday, February 2; Tellem assured Armstrong several teams were interested in him, including the Clippers, Lakers, Pacers, Bullets, Kings, 76ers, and Hawks. It was important for Armstrong to get to a team on which he'd be a starter. This was the second year of his four-year deal, and if he were to get another good contract, he'd have to become a starter by next season. Somewhere.