There remains a cloud of mystery over “Derrick Rose Night.”
We know the venue. That’s obvious.
We know the date: Jan. 4, perfectly timed for when former Bulls coach Tom Thibodeau and the Knicks are in town.
The unknown? The magnitude of it.
By all accounts, the Bulls have no plans to announce a statue for Rose. Fair considering being fitted in bronze for immortality should be reserved for those that brought a championship trophy to a city. Rose failed in that department.
But what should happen – and is still up in the air – is the announcement of the No. 1 forever being retired by the organization and raised to the rafters.
I’ve been as critical of the Rose era as anyone. It was basically three stellar years of basketball followed by four years of headaches, talk of “meetings and graduations,” all the while chasing the ghost of Christmas past. Rose does not deserve to be in the NBA Hall of Fame and he’s not even the best all-around player the Bulls have had in the last 20 years. That honor goes to Jimmy Butler.
What Rose represents, however, is a heartbeat of an organization that flatlined after the Michael Jordan Dynasty.
And the topper was he was “one of ours.”
The iconic introduction of “… and from Chicago …” meant something. When Rose was at his best it almost came across as a warning for the opposing team that night. This kid from the streets of Englewood, who was born and raised here, is coming to take your soul and there’s nothing you can do about it.
Even when Rose was no longer MVP-caliber because of the knee injuries, “… and from Chicago …” still sent the United Center into a frenzy with the hope that a derailed career could still somehow find traction back to a legendary journey.
So why not give Rose that final nudge with a jersey retirement?
After all, it’s not like the Bulls have allowed anyone else to wear it. Well, not for more than a few days. Back in the 2016-17 season, after Rose was traded to New York and the Bulls acquired Michael Carter-Williams from the Bucks, Carter-Williams posted a picture of him wearing the No. 1. The torches were lit and the villagers were outraged.
Carter-Williams quickly pivoted to No. 7, wanting nothing to do with the outpouring of criticism directed at him and the organization for approving it.
But the No. 1 jersey controversy didn’t end there.
Never afraid of making waves and sticking his middle finger up at the establishment, Butler then tried to switch to the No. 1 in Rose’s absence, but the organization knew how that would look. After all, Rose and Butler didn’t exactly play nice all the time in Rose’s final two seasons with the Bulls, so the idea of Butler decked out in No. 1 wouldn’t exactly be a good look, so Butler backed down.
That’s why for an organization that seldom does the right thing, it’s time to do the right thing: Announce that Jan. 4 is not just a “night” for Rose, but an everlasting celebration that will see his jersey retired.
Friday’s win over Charlotte was the latest reminder of just how much Rose and that Bulls team meant to the city. Long-time forward Taj Gibson, now with the Hornets, was given a standing ovation when he came into the game late, and afterwards was asked by reporters about the emotion he showed and the upcoming Rose night.
“I expect everyone to scream loud, drop some tears,” Gibson, who will be in attendance, said. “If I’m tearing up from just this end-of-the-game thing (on Friday), I know it’s going to be crazy for him.”
It will be crazy, but the Bulls have a chance to also make it iconic.
No. 1’s don’t come along often. Do the right thing. It’s time.
