The Enemy Within

So, now I’m caught up with all four episodes of “The Last Dance,” including, especially, the one on Dennis Rodman.  Talk about your textbook deal with the devil.

 

For their first three titles, the Bulls lacked a strong-rebounding center (think Will Perdue and Bill Cartwright).  Horace Grant stepped up to do the necessary dirty work, but he was gone by the time of the second three-peat.  (This is one of the areas the documentary could explore.  Jerry Krause let a 28-year old Grant walk, getting nothing in return.  It seems the Bulls’ GM was considerably better at building a contender than maintaining one.  Keep Grant, and you don’t need Rodman.  Sign Grant to an extension early on, and at the very least you can flip him for younger talent and/or a draft pick.  But I digress.)

 

The thing about Rodman is the self-destructive urge that raged inside him.  He didn’t simply risk injury to an opposing player; he seemed perfectly content hurting himself in the process.  If ever there were a dirty, masochistic athlete, it was Rodman.  The wonder is he didn’t seriously hurt Michael Jordan or Scottie Pippen and himself during practice.

 

So, yes, the Bulls won another three championships with Rodman.  The question is, at what cost?  Admittedly, I seem to be in the minority here.  I want my championship teams filled with as many good citizens as possible.  No Dennis Rodmans, please, no Aroldis Chapmans.  I mean, Carl Everett is bad enough.