Some people don’t like to have their photo taken for fear the camera will steal their soul. It seems superstitious and backward, but applied in a very liberal way to the Bulls, the concept sort of makes sense.
If we look too closely at how they are doing what they’re doing in this crazy, astounding, your-adjective-here playoff series with the Celtics, we risk stealing the magic from it. Some things are better left unexamined and unexplained. This is one of them.
Let it be enough that the Bulls have taken the defending NBA champions to a seventh game in a first-round series that is so overcaffeinated it’s a wonder Red Bull hasn’t stepped in to sponsor it. Oh, the missed marketing opportunities!
Six games — two decided in overtime, one decided in double overtime and another, on Thursday night, decided in triple overtime. Game 6 was a back-and-forth blur that could have led to an outbreak of motion sickness. It was so ridiculously entertaining that even the fervently pro-Bulls crowd at the United Center could only shrug in the second OT and acknowledge that, you know what, that Ray Allen dude from the Celtics, he’s pretty good. The Bulls eventually won 128-127.
And now the battle goes back to Boston on Saturday for Game 7 to settle things once and for all. Presumably. But if this series were grammar, it would be a run-on sentence. If it were math, it would be pi to the millionth digit. If it were gym class — wait, it is gym class. It’s a whole glorious day of gym class.
From where did this sudden burst of Bulls inspiration, teamwork and toughness come? Trying to figure that out not only is beside the point — the point being, seven overtime periods, are you kidding? — it’s like trying to grab a handful of Michael Jordan’s scalp.
These Bulls? The Bulls who were so boringly pedestrian during the regular season? Where did this come from?
Don’t know. Don’t care.
The adrenaline rush is the thing. The fierceness of what we’re witnessing is the thing. It’s true that this series is not a battle of elite NBA teams. Boston is without injured superstar Kevin Garnett. The Bulls were a .500 team heading into the postseason. But what has happened in this series proves several things:
The playoffs indeed are a different animal from the oftentimes ho-hum, just-get-it-over-with-already regular season.
And when two teams compete as hard and fearlessly as these two teams have, it doesn’t matter that the talent level falls short of Jordan-Larry Bird levels. This, friends, is a thing of brutal beauty.
So just ride the buzz.
Kirk Hinrich is playing his best basketball of the season, never mind the wide-open layup he missed with 18 seconds left in triple overtime Thursday night. Rookie of the Year Derrick Rose’s up-and-down game in Game 6 ended with him jumping to block the shot of the black-hatted Rajon Rondo with just a few ticks left.
John Salmons, who had 35 points Thursday, is being embraced in Chicago as if he were a 10-year Bull and not the 10-week Bull he is. Brad Miller suddenly is a fan favorite, the dirty-work guy. Ben Gordon is playing on one good leg.
And Joakim Noah is all arms, legs, tumbling hair and youthful enthusiasm.
For the first time since the Jordan dynasty years, Chicago is truly embracing the Bulls. But unlike those seasons, this one really did parachute in out of nowhere. There wasn’t a hint of this excitement as the Bulls entered the playoffs, and that’s part of what makes this so special.
A lot of it is overtime-induced mania, of course. But don’t for a second feel as if you have to apologize for that. For whatever reason, the Bulls have not been meaningful in this town for a long time. Oh, sure, they went to the playoffs a few years with Scott Skiles as coach, but they never really captured the imagination.
This team has seized the imagination in a coup d’etat.
Late Thursday night at the United Center, a Chicago radio guy was filing his report over the phone. The last thing he said before signing off was, “And Ray Allen had 51 points for the Celtics.” That’s how good this series is. Fifty-one points becomes an afterthought.
You don’t expect this much excitement from any series, but especially not from a first-round series. The sole purpose of a first-round series is to get you to the next round. It’s like an entry-level job.
What strange confluence of time and space and talent brought on this incredible series?
Don’t try to figure it out. Just enjoy it. And don’t forget to pull the seat belt low and tight across your lap. We’re ready for takeoff.
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rmorrissey@tribune.com
