SURGERY DOESN’T FIX THIS
On top of Rose’s list of physical problems, he’s not the great guy we pretended he was
There was a time when Derrick Rose ruled Chicago’s sports world. But no more. The dominance started when he was taken by the Bulls as the first overall pick in the 2008 NBA draft, and lasted until late fall of 2011, before injuries started to keep him out of action.
In the first round of the playoffs in 2012, Rose went down with a serious knee injury, and in certain ways, he never got up.
It’s not just because of the physical fragility that curses him— indeed, he’s out now after surgery to repair a fractured orbital bone under his left eye.
No, his falling to earth includes tumbling off the pedestal of integrity and ethical purity we placed him on. We put him there, of course, not necessarily because of his own bidding (although Adidas sure paraded him as some kind of saint). We put him there because that’s where we want our heroes to stand.
Until we shove them off. Or they swan dive alone.
The recent rape allegation against Rose may be dated and without merit. But Rose has admitted the lawsuit might have been fueled in part because, per court documents, he refused to pay for ‘‘one of the sex toys [the woman] purchased and used during the day and night in question.’’
Oh, we wanted to believe in the homegrown-Chicago-boy-makes-good mythology so badly that we ignored anything that hinted at make-believe. Those faked SAT scores before college, the lone year at the pro clearinghouse posing-as a university, Memphis, under rules-ignoring coach John Calipari — who cared?
Rose was born to be in the NBA, the mantra went. Let him be.
No young man can live his formative adult years as a rich pro under bright lights and not screw up at some point. Anybody remember when Jim Harbaugh was arrested for disorderly conduct on Rush Street in 1988 while he was the Bears’ quarterback?
Anybody remember when Michael Jordan and porn actress Kylie Ireland were linked in a trashy magazine wherein she described their one-night stand in 1993?
And how about the current Patrick Kane mess, with the 26-year-old Blackhawks star trapped in a he-said/she-said reputation-ruiner?
Rose is also 26. Harbaugh was 25 when he was handcuffed at She Nannigans. Jordan was 30 in 1993, older but more famous than anyone, thus a bigger target. But they all screwed up.
In 2008, before Rose’s first Bulls season, the Cubs made their last disastrous venture into the postseason, then detonated. The Hawks were only starting to dig out from irrelevance. The White Sox won the American League Central, got smoked in the first round of the playoffs and disappeared.
And, of course, for the Bears it was Jay Cutler Time. A sour face for a sour franchise dominated by the Green Bay Packers.
The stage was set for basketball and Rose. When Rose won the MVP Award in 2011— the youngest player ever to receive the honor — we assumed the best was yet to come. How could we not? Rose was only 22; Jordan won his last championship for the Bulls at 35!
But it was the end. Three knee surgeries, the orbital bone surgery — suddenly Rose is a wounded vet in a league full of young, swift point guards.
But, again, it’s not just his body that has crashed. It’s off-court things, too.
Can he be so out of touch with real strife and poverty— from whence he came in Englewood— that he can tell us he doesn’t want to rush back from injury because he has to think about his future, so he can attend things like his 2-year-old son’s someday high school graduation? As if his knee injuries might lead to paralysis or early death? He can. Can he say he’s eager for free agency in two years so he can make more money— more than the $280 million he’s already been guaranteed— and that he wants his family to ‘‘be financially stable,’’ and, ‘‘It’s not for me. It’s for P.J. [his son] and his future.’’
Stop it. Rose has already made $200 million while missing more than 200 games the last four years.
How many pacifiers, Legos, PlayStations and Escalades can his son handle?
You can’t say stuff like this in Chicago. Even if it’s false, you tell the fans you only want to win championships. You tell them you’ll sacrifice anything for the team. For the fans.
Rose will be back on the court someday, and maybe he’ll play well. But the original Derrick, the one we sanctified, that one’s left the building.