Chicago Bulls: A Few Moments with Joakim Noah Keeping It All in Perspective

Game 5 left me dazed, angry and confused.

What just happened?

With just over three minutes left from the season being extended, Ronnie Brewer hit a three that put the Bulls up 12, and sent myself and the rest of the 300 level at the United Center going crazy. During the ensuing Heat timeout, I even broke out the corny, but timely, Will Smith song "I'm Goin to Miami."

Maybe it was my fault for celebrating too early, and invoking one of the corniest songs of the past 20 years to do so, but what happened the next three minutes sent me into a rage.  

It all happened so fast. The game went from a laugher to a dog fight in a matter of possessions.

Several questionable calls, coupled with two big shots by LeBron James and a Derrick Rose missed free throw resulted in a stunning loss that left me searching for answers.

Truth is the Bulls collapsed. They blew a 12 point lead due to a pair of missed free throws, one from Rose and an earlier one from Brewer, a couple of turnovers and just not being good enough. LeBron James and Dwayne Wade put their foot down and did what great players do. They didn't allow this series to be extended. They took over the game, and really, once they decided to do that, there was nothing the Bulls could do.

But that's no fun, right?

No, what myself, and the rest of the United Center decided was that this game was stolen from our beloved Bulls. 

As a friend of mine and I made our way back to our car, we screamed out, "This series was rigged," and had our yells returned back with, "You know it man," from others feeling the same way as we did.

This year wasn't supposed to end like this. That's when my friend and I decided we were going to say something to those officials, who "stole a championship" from the Bulls. 

We made our way out of the stadium and found the player's exit. We didn't care how long it would take, but we were convinced the referees would at some point drive past us, and for what it was worth, we were going to let them know how we felt.

Seconds turned into minutes, minutes turned into an hour, and still no referees. We passed the time talking to a couple of Bulls fans, including one who claimed to work at O'Hare and knew the gate the Heat would be taking out of Chicago. His "brilliant" plan was to meet them there. What this guy had in mind, I don't know. The psyche of a sports fan scorned is not one I want to look into.

At some point in the night, the players began to make their exits. Omer Asik pulled up and I had some fun finding out if the rumor of him dating Miss Ohio was true. In classic Omer style, his face turned Bulls red, he smirked, shook his head and drove off.

As we were waiting for the "Big Three" of officials—Scott Foster, Marc Davis and Greg Willard—a young kid approached me. 

He was a wearing a hoodie, a Bulls 20th anniversary championship T-shirt and black jeans. He couldn't have been older than 12, and I was wondering what he was doing alone in the not-so-Wrigelyville United Center area. 

"Did Joakim leave yet?" he asked me. I told him no, but I wasn't 100 percent sure, as tinted windows seem to be the only windows for NBA players. A look of relief spread over his face as he told me "Good, because I have to talk to him." 

Talk to him? How would this little kid know Joakim Noah. I put it to the fact he just wanted a glimpse at one of his favorite players. 

As each car would pull up, my friend and I would strain our eyes to try and make out who was in each car. As one car approached, the kid, who stayed quiet for the most part up until then, told us it was Keith Bogans driving in his Jeep. Then he pointed out Carlos Boozer was in the car behind him, and Taj Gibson after that.

"How do you know that?" I asked the kid in amazement.

"I live just around the block, and I come up here after every game," he explained.

And sure enough as each car would approach, the kid would say who was in the car and he was right. He knew everyone from Scottie Pippen's Maybach, to Derrick Rose's white pick-up truck. If it was a Bulls player's car, he knew whose it was.

As most of the players cars drove out of the exit, we would wave or yell something out like "great season" or "get 'em next year" with little to no response.

"Joakim always comes out last, you watch, he'll stop and talk," the little kid said undeterred.

I tried to warn him that Noah might not stop. The Bulls had just been eliminated and probably wouldn't be in the talking mood. The kid just shrugged his shoulders and anxiously watched each car pull out.

With about a 30 yard runway separating the open gate from the parking lot, you could see each car pull up as they were about to make their exit. Only one car remained.

When the bright lights of a white Escalade beamed on, a slight smile spread on the face of the kid.

"That's Joakim. Watch, he calls everyone 'B.' He'll stop and talk for sure."

As the car pulled up to the gate it stopped, the windows rolled down and sure enough, it was Joakim Noah. My friend and I turned to each other, both with the same look of disbelief. We all approached the car. 

"What's up, B?" a tired looking Noah said to the kid. 

They both exchanged a fist bump and Noah began to ask the kid how he was doing.

"You stayin' out of trouble?" Noah asked.

The kid smirked and told him yes.

"Why you laughin'?" Noah said. "You better be."

My friend took the opportunity to tell Noah he thought the series was rigged, to which Noah said "I don't know, man."

In what felt like an eternity was probably no more than a couple minutes.

Before Noah drove off, he told the little boy he would text him and they would play some basketball in the next couple of days. The kid smiled, Joakim gave us all some more dap and then he drove off. 

As soon as Noah left, the kid began to walk home when I asked him how he knew Noah. He told me he met him at the Salvation Army several months ago, and he has stayed in contact ever since. 

What Joakim Noah did Thursday night after the game is more important than anything he could have done on the basketball court. He could have easily used the excuse of being too tired, too angry or too frustrated to talk to this little kid, and no one would have blamed him. But for a boy who lives in an area where he too often meets the cold reality of disappointment and let down, the relationship Noah has forged with this kid gives him hope and belief.

After the kid moved out of sight, my friend and I turned around and went back toward my car. We really no longer cared about the referees and to be honest, the loss the Bulls suffered didn't really carry that much weight anymore.

Sure, we all love sports and it's a great diversion, but that's all it is. It's a form of entertainment that we use to get away from life for a couple of hours.

What Joakim Noah did Thursday night, I will always remember.