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you're from Chicago, as I am, and you're maniacal about sports (pardon
me, for the redundancy), you learn to develop at a very young age
a high threshold for pain and suffering. The agony of defeat becomes
a fact of life. Life's first heartbreak for me was in the summer
of '69 when the Cubs somehow famously blew a 10-game lead in August
and allowed the reviled Mets to overpass them. The Cubs, of course,
have experienced some 80 to 90 years of futility but we shrug it
off and figure that every franchise can have a bad century.
But we Chicagoans also develop life-long love affairs with our champions.
We don't win championships often, but when we do, Chicago teams
win in devastating fashion — in "team-of-the-century" proportions.
I'm speaking, for example, of a certain team that played in Soldiers
Field in 1986, went 17-1 and became affectionately known as "da
Bears." And then, of course, there was another franchise in Chicago
that won 6 NBA championships in the 1990s — a team we all know
as "da Bulls."
Now this past year a lot of folks are questioning the supremacy
of these two dominating squads so I feel morally bound to defend
their honor and the honor of my hometown against all takers.
As you may have guessed by now, this column is prompted by the recent
suggestion by the eggheads at NBC, Sports Illustrated, and
other alleged hubs of sports journalism, that this year's Los Angeles
Lakers are the greatest playoff team ever. Oh puh-lease! To be sure,
these Shaq and Kobe Bryant-led Lakers are mighty strong. They have
already swept through the first three rounds of the NBA playoffs
without a loss, and may very well complete the swing of perfection
by disposing of their final pseudo-obstacle, the Philadelphia 76ers,
with four straight Ws. No other team has gone undefeated through
four rounds of playoffs--not even da Bulls.
But Lakers fans in Tinseltown: You're as clueless as a valley girl
wondering why she doesn't have enough electric power to blow-dry
her hair. Come back when you've won four more championships and
we'll talk about supremacy and dynasties.
Sports reporters are now asking the tantalizing hypothetical: Who
would win between this year's Lakers with Shaq and Kobe Bryant and
da Bulls of yesteryear with Jordan, Pippen, Rodman, et al. There
are all sorts of fun match-ups to conjure up: Kobe Bryant guarded
by Pippen, Rodman on the Shaq, Horace Grant guarding himself, and
Phil Jackson pacing both sidelines at once.
There are two reasons to believe the Bulls were a lot better. First,
would you really want to bet against MJ in any big game?
And for that matter, who on these Lakers could guard Jordan? You
see my point. (Once Jordan was the guest host of Saturday Night
Live and in one skit they asked him about the upcoming Olympics
USA Dream Team for which he was playing. "Michael, why don't you
just play these foreign teams all by yourself?" I think they were
kidding.)
The other reason to be reasonably confident that the Bulls would
have prevailed with relative ease is that the Bulls played a ferocious,
even smothering, defense for four quarters. No one else has come
close to that stifling defensive effort since.
Now, to put to rest the even bigger absurdity: the talk back in
January that the Baltimore Ravens were the "greatest defensive team
in NFL history." No, no, no, no.
In '86 the Bears were virtually impossible to score against. They
would put eight and even sometimes nine men on the line of scrimmage
and terrorize opposing quarterbacks. In the playoffs that year the
Bears beat the New York Giants something like 10-0 (okay, okay,
we were no offensive juggernaut) and the press kept asking then-Giants
head coach Bill Parcels whether, if this or that had gone differently,
the Giants might have won. "No way," said Parcels. "We were never
going to score against them. You have no idea how hard they hit
us." En route to their '86 Super Bowl Shuffle, the Bears hurt a
lot of people. One highlight of the year was whupping the Redskins
something like 34-zip.
Whenever I'm feeling depressed about things, I just slip into the
VCR my tape of the '86 Bears season and all in the world is put
right again. Those tapes are better for my psyche than a whole gallon-jar
of valium.
If you had to take one defense, for one game, you would want the
Bears', not the Ravens'. You would want Richard Dent, Mike Singletary,
Gary Fencik, etc., etc. Come on, admit it, you just would.
Oh, and if there are any obnoxious Mets fans (I'm being redundant
again) out there in cyberspace reading this: Heads up! Look who's
in first place in the NL central division. Da Cubs. Ever since Hillary
started wearing the Mets and Yankees hats, we can't do anything
wrong!
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