It was a crappy Sunday. The Cubs & Sox both lost their games, which you have to get used to in a 162 game season with 2 teams that are mediocre. Still, it gets you in a bad mood. Then, the Heat win Game 2 of the Finals. I said I wasn’t going to watch, and I didn’t, but I was monitoring the score on my iPhone, hoping for another Heat loss. Now I’m really upset, plus I have to watch the Kings sit up 2-0 in their series, after ending the Hawks season. It all adds up to the cracking open of the Hate Files again. I’ve held out as long as I could after that Blackhawk game 7 loss, but enough is enough.
Nothing wrong with starting off the week with a little hate. I’m trying to stay chronological in my reviewing of the Hate Files, which isn’t easy, especially with one of the most recent members playing in the Finals; that file is about to explode. OK, let’s stay focused. We’ve already talked about Steve Garvey in 1984 and the start of the never-ending Packer hate in 1985. Now, let’s turn the clock back to 1988, where Michael Jordan and our Chicago Bulls had their first playoff meeting with the Detroit Pistons.
The Bad Boys, as they were called, are the residents of my 3rd Hate File. I guess looking back, they helped make MJ and the Bulls the team they became. They were the team we had to overcome, the dues we had to pay, to achieve greatness. So, in retrospect, I thank you Bad Boys. From 1988-1991, a young boy did not quite feel that way. This was one of the teams that I hated the most.
Who was the player YOU hated the most on that team? Was it Isiah Thomas? A Chicago boy who played for this hated rival. I typically like to support Chicago guys, but this is the first example of someone I could not. I still hate this guy. From the freeze out All Star game to walking off the court to trying to defend Lebron’s recent cramping, this guy’s jealousy of Michael Jordan is over the top. He’s a little bastard. How about Dennis Rodman? Man, I hated this guy with a passion. I could never, ever imagine cheering for a guy like this… until 1995 rolled around. It’s funny how things work out. Well, my vote has to be Bill Laimbeer. Maybe the dirtiest player I can think of in NBA history, this guy took the cake. How many times did this guy just flat out knock MJ to the ground? The Pistons main enforcer drew my ire more than any other. With John Salley, Mark Aguirre, and Chuck Daly, you had plenty of guys to choose from. Spread that hate around.
Best hospital in Bangalore for Cosmetic cialis canadian generic surgeries would be Narayana Health. A generic sildenafil viagra healthy relationship makes you and your partner take some time every single day of the week. So first of all it requires special attention from the doctor as it is the first step to making your disorder vanish from you. viagra buy australia These medicines are well formulated with Sildenafil Citrate which empowers overnight generic viagra the identified results of brand. I guess the first series loss wasn’t that bad. The Pistons were better than us, as shown in the 4-1 series win in the 1988 Eastern Conference Semifinals. As the 1989 playoffs rolled around, it was the Bulls time to get to the NBA Finals. This was the year of The Shot. With MJ hanging over Ehlo, the Bulls won the decisive Game 5 of the opening round vs Cleveland. They then went on to beat the Knicks 4-2 to advance to the Eastern Conference Finals vs you know who. We won Game 1 on the road, had an MJ game winner in Game 3 at the Stadium, but lost every other game, which translated to a 4-2 series loss. Another loss to the Pistons, who went on to win the NBA Finals that year. At this point, the hate was bubbling. The Jordan Rules were in full effect, as MJ took a beating. Name another star after MJ that had to endure a beating like that year in year out. Nobody. The NBA wouldn’t allow it. These stars today are divas. MJ paid his dues. The Bulls paid their dues. Next year we’ll get them. We’ll get past this team next year.
The 1990 playoffs rolled around, and the Bulls Pistons were on a crash course to meet again, and sure enough they did in the ECF. The Pistons owned home court advantage and that eventually proved critical, as each team won all of their home games in this series. With new head coach Phil Jackson at the helm, after Doug Collins could not get us past them, the results were the same. The triangle offense couldn’t even overcome the Jordan Rules… this time. Game 7 was the most memorable for me. As I rushed home from my 8th grade graduation, I remember Scottie Pippen on the bench with an ice pack on his neck, complaining of migraines. The Bulls were never really in that game. This was the last straw. 3 straight years our season was ended by this team. The hate became official. I hated, hated, hated this team. As the Pistons went on to win their 2nd straight NBA title, Bulls fans were left thinking if we would ever get past this team. We would.
It finally happened in 1991. We beat the Pistons in dramatic fashion, as we swept them off their own floor in one of the sweetest victories ever in my lifetime. It took all those beatings. It took that hate. It took paying those dues to make winning that much sweeter. It makes me think of the Poetry Garage and that Emily Dickinson poem. “Success is counted sweetest by those who never succeed, to comprehend a nectar requires sorest need.” I wanted to beat this team so badly, and we finally did.. and never looked back. We put the Pistons in our rearview mirror, as we went on to win the NBA title 6 of the next 8 years. The Bad Boys would never again stand in our way.
I feel better. It’s easier talking about this Hate File than the others, just because we overcame this. We never got a chance to get back at Steve Garvey. The Packers still make our lives miserable. We got past this team. We won multiple championships. We finally got the best of this rival. It still doesn’t change the fact that the Detroit Bad Boys were hated like none other. And that’s why they reside in one of my Hate Files. No need to talk about this any more. We can close this one up, file it away. Hated and never forgotten, RIP Bad Boys.
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