I had a former colleague—who later became a friend and neighbor—who began to say some terrible things about then-Bulls point guard Derrick Rose after his devastating injuries when some thought he could’ve played.
Over time, his social media comments about Rose’s availability became progressively negative, culminating in the following: “He’s just another thug from the hood.”
When I saw the Facebook post, I immediately knew what time it was.
When I confronted my soon-to-be former friend about what he posted, he ignored my concerns regarding the tone.
That instance told me all I needed to know about them.
Between Rose’s debut as a freshman at Simeon, the standardized testing controversy, being the NBA’s youngest MVP award-winner, his injury at the end of a playoff game the Bulls had in hand, his trade to the Knicks, the civil lawsuit where he was found not liable for rape, trespassing and other charges, the resurrection of his career, and his retirement announcement made late last month in the Chicago Tribune, to some, represents what could’ve been.
And, perhaps most importantly, what some believe the Englewood-born and raised hooper represented. Rose, who made his retirement after 16 seasons official, said as much, in part, in a social media post:
“…You stood by me even when the world seemed against me, unconditionally, waiting for me to pick you up.”
Yahoo Sports reporter Vincent Goodwill, then-Bulls beat reporter, said it best in a 2019 documentary about Rose, called “Pooh: The Derrick Rose Story,” when he got down to brass tacks regarding the criticisms of the Bulls superstar:
“There’s a sense of two Chicagos in the basketball sense, political sense and a real-life sense. The history of segregation met at Derrick Rose…”
The critiques that probably sting the most had nothing to do with basketball. The critiques of Rose, in my opinion, come from three places: race, culture and generational.
Some fans, who had been following Rose since before the start of his Simeon days, during which he walked in the footsteps of Wolverine legends Ben Wilson, Nick Anderson and Deon Thomas, were willing to cut him some slack, considering the aforementioned injuries.
Derrick Rose when he played at Simeon (Photo Credit: Facebook).
Meanwhile, certain members of the local press corps and sports fans who believed that the Bulls were getting too much media coverage amid the Blackhawks’ successful Stanley Cup championship runs often used Rose as a shield for something much more sinister.
They wouldn’t dare to use outward racial slurs.
Instead, they went after Rose in ways they never went after then-Blackhawks winger Patrick Kane amid his legal issues including punching a cab driver and two credible rape allegations.
We as a society tend to cut slack to people we see ourselves in. We root for them in ways we would never affirm folks we believe have nothing to do with.
When someone labels Rose a “Thug ” and describes Kane’s transgressions as “Oh, he’s just a kid,” they are saying the quiet part out loud.
The criticisms became so frequent that some of Rose’s most staunch defenders wondered what was really going on. Some of the critiques, quite frankly, questioned his drive and manhood.
One of the most asinine critiques was, “If I get up and go to work every day, [Rose] can.”
First of all, I can make a strong case by saying no one cares about that person’s job outside their family. They’ll find someone to replace them.
The work environment for professional athletes is much different than the rest of us.
Maybe it took for me to suffer my own gruesome sports injury—a broken ankle in three places—to understand that being physically ready to compete and mentally ready to compete are two different circumstances that probably weren’t aligned for Rose.
He may have felt he was letting everyone—fans, family, teammates—down. After all, not many of us know what it’s like to be a franchise player in the city you grew up in.
Despite all the setbacks and what could’ve been, considering the totality of the circumstances Rose grew up in, I consider his NBA career a success.
Not many people make it out of our city’s most marginalized communities because so much is stacked up against them.
Simply put, Rose made it out.
To many, that’s considered a success story.
Whether his jersey will be retired by the Bulls or if he will get a potential Hall of Fame induction, I’ll leave that up to pundits.
Instead, I’ll stick with what I know: Chicago Hoops fans revere Derrick Rose.
They see someone they know and wish him well.
He’s a Chicago guy.
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