What the Bulls Win Meant For Me (A Personal Essay)
Sometimes in your adulthood you doubt everything you have decided to do with your life. Your life in the arts (or whatever it is for you) that is seemingly going nowhere, your career choices, what blue jeans you wore that day, etc.
You may stay up all night worrying about a single decision you made the day before. Maybe you said something that could be construed as impolite or rude to a colleague. Maybe you are getting too old for all this bullshit. Why are you still getting zits at this age? Why is everyone that you are PAYING for their services so fucking unreliable? Why can't it just be the weekend so I can be home, not look in a mirror and I can cover my head with a blanket for a few days and just try to recuperate from my own self doubt the constant let down of others. Why did the CTA prices go up if they are just going to cut service? Why are they closing all these goddammed public schools? Where are these kids gonna go? Why is this Gay Marriage thing a big deal?
WHY DON'T WE WANT OTHER PEOPLE TO BE HAPPY?
and why is it still so cold? Cloudy and cold and dark all the time. Is it worth living in this city at all? I know there are other places to live that probably would be HAPPY to have a guy like me in their town. Someplace warm with a nice little community theater and people willing to help you achieve.
Selfless, reliable, happy.
You get home from another rough fucking day full of disappointing phone calls and more headaches.
"Well sir, we still can't tell ya what's wrong with your car, but we charge $80 a day in storage." "That package you ordered got lost in the mail AGAIN, so expect it to be another 3 weeks."
"This CTA train will be delayed for another 30 minutes."
You get home and just want to watch your Chicago Bulls play a game so you can relax and what do you hear?
"At a press conference, Derrick Rose said that while he is ready to play, he still will not." "Joakim Noah and Marco Belinelli, who were expected to be game time decisions, will be sitting out tonight." "Rip Hamilton's old ass is hurt again."
Which sounds like a typical end to a Chicago sports team season.
Our motto should be:
"Everyone is hurt, the future looks terrible."
Well, that's just par for the course, I guess.
What's that? Oh, we are playing the Miami Heat on a 27 game winning streak? Oh great. That sounds about right for our city right now.
Then what happens?
Nate Robinson hits a couple threes. Luol Deng matches rebounds and assists with LeBron James. Carlos Boozer pushes back for once. Kirk Hinrich rips that fucking ball out of Chris Bosh's hands!
Wait, are we winning? Are we going to win?
Why is everyone cheering? Did something good happen?
And then the buzzer sounds, and the game is over, and the Chicago Bulls have beaten the unbeatable Miami Heat.
For the first time in a month you can go to sleep without worrying because you saw what can happen when you just stick it out with your team. When you fight, you can win.
Just don't give up. Quit thinking about giving up. Stick to the plan, however impossible or ridiculous it may seem.
Just grow some balls and elbow a motherfucker in the chest and keep walking.