More than anything else Derrick Rose has been — to me and to millions of others often too marginalized to understand — he has been a reflection. Not of his career or his life but of life. Of me. Of so many others. Of us.
Not specifically of what we see when we look in a mirror but more of the reflection the world interprets when one of those like us rises, shines and ends. Not in death but in calling. When the vessel we were placed on this earth to serve concludes. When the first circle closes. When purpose begins.
The ‘‘Derrick Rose Night’’ that will take place Saturday at the United Center isn’t about the night itself. Not about a jersey retirement. Not about a possible statue in the atrium. Not even about the city saying, ‘‘Thank you,’’ or apologizing (you know who you all are) to the ‘‘1’’ who introduced us to a new version of hope.
Only to see that hope taken away. From both him and us.
A night simply and only to express, finally and for the record, to Rose how he made us — this city, this basketball Gotham — feel for a short period of time.
See, acceptance is different from validation, which is different from affirmation. Many of us long for each and, once our purpose is discovered, burn for all three. All, though, are different from love. Saturday will be the attempt to make Derrick Rose feel all four.
Until you’ve raised, been around, fathered, uncle’d, coached young Black men who are in their 20s or early 30s now, who played basketball or just loved the game, who were in Chicago for their childhoods, you have no clue, inkling, insight or first-person account into what Derrick Rose really means. No idea how, even though he is not as great as Michael Jordan, he might be as influential and arguably more important in this city when it comes to basketball than Mike.
How here he’s Kobe to Magic in L.A.
I first met Rose in his freshman year at Simeon, an encounter we discussed five years later during his rookie season with the Bulls.
‘‘Do you remember what you said to us when you and coach [John] Chaney [of Temple University] spoke to us?’’ he asked me as we walked up the stairs of the Berto Center, past a picture of Jordan.
‘‘I do,’’ he continued without me answering. ‘‘And I remember every word you said.’’
At that time, he was 20 years old. About to lead the Bulls into their first playoff run with him leading the team. It was before he had won Rookie of the Year that season. He allowed me to call him ‘‘Pooh’’ because he knew I knew.
In me, he saw his reflection. In him, I saw mine.
Which is how he and I grew. Separately yet in unison. My 20 years his senior being the step ahead that he could step behind. Mine with pen, his with ball. Remembering every step, remembering every word.
Championing his imperfections because we knew so many who had no inherited connection to where we come from held those imperfections against him. In a life where we’re not looking for perfection, we’re simply looking for light. A light to shine for us, a light to guide us, a light to exemplify and humanize us. Knowing that Black perfection in America is possible, but it comes at a cost imposed by those who aren’t us or are unable to do what some of us do.
It is that underlying contempt that will make ‘‘Derrick Rose Night’’ so special. More than a ceremony.
It was everything that happened outside the United Center — Rose’s Pop-Up Flower Shop at the Tortoise Supper Club; the premier screening and panel discussion of his ‘‘Becoming a Rose’’ thank-you letter to Chicago film; the alumni game held at his old high school, Simeon, where OG Wolverine legends went up against the current No. 10-ranked basketball team in the Sun-Times’ Super 25 to raise money for charity; the ‘‘Roses for Chicago’’ flower installation at Clybourn Park — leading up to his ‘‘night’’ that symbolized and spoke more to what he truly means.
Why time was paused to recognize. To finally say — without minimizing concern of whether he should or shouldn’t be inducted into the Hall of Fame; without the ‘‘blame the victim’’ irrationality used when discussing his injuries and what they stopped the Bulls from achieving; without the unrelenting targeting that at one time turned a major portion of this city against him; with, for once, taking into complete and unconditional consideration not just the person and player he was while here but the inspiration he has become — ‘‘Pooh, we see you.’’
