Why let players run Bulls asylum?
January 14, 2008
BY JAY MARIOTTI Sun-Times Columnist
Having worked in my share of asylums, I know the basic house rule: Only
let the inmates run it when they've earned the right. The Bulls, the most dysfunctional NBA team west of New York, barely deserve to earn paychecks this season, much less demand disciplinary action against a teammate. In fact, their unanimous vote to extend Joakim Noah's suspension to two games is extraordinarily bizarre even for sports.
Does this team have a coach?
Does this team have a general manager?
The Bulls are 14-21 misfits, remember, disappointments to a league and a city. They are the same underachievers who openly quit on Scott Skiles and cost him his coaching job. They've heard firm boos, mocking chants of "Kobe! Kobe!" and calls for roster upheaval. They've built no equity and mustered no credibility. But that didn't stop the players from calling a meeting and deciding that Noah, the immature and excitable rookie who verbally abused assistant coach Ron Adams at a shootaround Friday, deserved more than the original one-game benching issued by interim coach Jim Boylan.
Whether the punishment is one game, two games or 10 games -- and the tirade, coupled with Noah's tardiness all season, might be worth the maximum treatment -- isn't really the point here. The problem is, why isn't management making the decision exclusively? Why would Boylan and his boss, GM John Paxson, be so quick to let the players lengthen an original penalty that should have been weighed carefully and rendered permanently? If a coach has nothing else, he has the big hammer. When Boylan openly relinquishes it to players, he symbolically gives up a piece of his authority. These aren't the San Antonio Spurs, whose four league championships and mutiple-ringed leaders might allow for a locker-room political rule. These aren't the Detroit Pistons, who have been together for years as a cohesive, proud unit. Back in the day, Phil Jackson used to let Michael Jordan play sheriff because, well, he was Michael Jordan and could tell Dennis Rodman that he'd basically ruin his life if he didn't show up for practice on time.
But these are the last-place Bulls, whose lack of cohesion and energy gives them no right to define scapegoats when they've all pretty much stunk. That's especially true when they took a predictable route Sunday and followed their grand statement with a 21-point loss to the Atlanta Hawks, who had lost their previous dozen games to the Bulls. The episode doesn't say much for an organization that couldn't get the punishment right the first time and, consequently, risks losing Noah spiritually after a vote of his peers was made public. And it sure doesn't say much for the players, who should be spending less time worrying about internal justice and more on how to avoid the draft lottery and shoot better than 41.9 percent, still a league worst.
Sorry, but quieting a mouthy kid isn't going to kickstart a playoff run. Paxson knew he was getting an opinionated, goofy character when he drafted Noah out of Florida, where he was integral in winning back-to-back national titles. What he said to Adams was unacceptable, but why didn't the interim coach recognize as much immediately with a harsher penalty Friday? "This isn't college anymore," Boylan said. "It's the NBA. This is professional sports."
You don't figure Noah, who still cracks wise like a spoiled teenager, will become a grown man anytime soon. "They just told me what I did was unacceptable and I'm just going to move on from here," he said. "I've just got to accept it. What do you want me to say? I've just got to move on. There's nothing I can do about it."
Was a two-game ban unfair? "Ask the players who made the decision. I don't know," he said. "Do I agree with it? It doesn't make a difference. I respect my teammates. I respect their opinions and stuff like that. I just have to deal with it."
This is a season that can't end soon enough. But this I know is true: You can't let players make policy when they can't make jumpshots.
