by Phil Jackson
The playoffs went by with numbers resembling the season. Miami went down in three, the Knicks in five tough games—our sole loss coming in overtime. The big win came in Madison Square Garden the day after the loss Sunday, Mother’s Day. We were without Toni due to a back injury and Scottie was struggling to score. Michael was tired from carrying our offense for the first three quarters and we had to have two big plays from Dennis and Bill Wennington. Rodman broke down the defensive pressure on a good read. The Knicks can just throttle an offense, and by Dennis stepping on an automatic and then delivering the ball for a dunk by Bill Wennington, followed on the next possession by a 12-footer by Bill, we rolled to victory. Dennis Rodman stepped into that role of offensive participator that we had talked about nine months before. That day in New York I felt the Garden floor bounce from the noise and the crowd during the time-outs in the fourth quarter.
Then came the finals in the Eastern Conference with the Orlando Magic, who had been cruising through the playoffs and had only been slightly challenged by Atlanta in the second round. They looked awfully good, but not quite as together as the previous year when they had flexed their muscle and shown how good they could be. We had some time while Orlando took six games to beat Atlanta, so I continued with our intensive video study. Pulp Fiction was the movie of the Knick series and because of a short series I used it during the Orlando Magic games, too. In the four or five vignettes there are many lines and scenarios that were great to use, but the favorite of our playoffs became the Harvey Keitel line. Following the clean-up of a murder he says to Jackson and Travolta, who play hitmen: “Let’s not start sucking each other’s d--ks yet, gentlemen,” signifying the job wasn’t quite done.
In the first two series, the defenses of our opponents challenged our offense. Both New York and Miami were Pat Riley-coached defenses that physically got after you. The Magic would challenge our defense. We prepared and we were ready.
In the second half, with the Bulls leading by close to 20 points, on a defensive play against Pippen, Horace Grant’s elbow was hyperextended when Shaquille ran into him. Horace left in pain and we went on to a romp. The injury to Horace spelled the undoing of the Magic’s hopes for a chance as they were left physically depleted. We couldn’t completely stop Shaq or Penny, but we tried to keep the defensive pressure on and keep the rest of the team quiet. In the second game, Orlando lost hope when we came back from an 18-point first half deficit to overwhelm them with a stifling defense. We just got better as the series went on and finished it in four games.
The Western Finals took another week to finish. We were idle a total of ten days. We might be rested, but we couldn’t be sharp with that much time off. The Seattle Sonics finished off Utah in seven. The Sonics play a unique defense. They push the offense to the sidelines and the baseline, double team the dribbler on penetration, and rotate from the weak side to prevent any swing of the ball to the weak side. They do it very well and have good athletes. Offensively, our sideline triangle was precisely the means to beat this aggressive defense. We overloaded either side of the floor and then swung the ball into isolation or a two-man game. That’s the technical basketball side of the series.
Our strengths were experience, size, and our collective will. The Sonics, on the other hand, had some experienced role players. But their key players, Payton and Kemp, were great athletes who played on the edge of fury, and had never been to the Finals. As a long shot I showed the team a game film of the Sonics with splices of The King of Hearts, an offbeat film from the sixties that has an antiwar theme. The theme I wanted them to pick out was the subtle message of who’s sane and who’s insane in this bizarre movie. (We needed to do a reality check to meet the intensity necessary for this final.)
The Finals quadruple the amount of press that covers the NBA. I heard that there were a thousand press credentials given out for the first two games in Chicago. We won our first two in Chicago even though we were rusty, and offensively we struggled to shoot, but our defense was active. The third game was in Seattle on a Sunday afternoon. Following a Friday night game, we had to fly to the West Coast and change time zones. We chose to do a leisurely trip midday on Saturday and go to Key Arena in Seattle and shoot around at their building, where they had lost only three regular season games. Seattle, on the other hand, chose to fly after the Chicago game and didn’t get out West until 4 A.M.
Perhaps we were a bit quicker on Sunday. Whatever it was, we were sharper and this gave us a rather handy win over the shocked Sonics. Michael had come out smoking; he had 27 first-half points. Toni had started because Ron Harper’s knee had prevented him from playing. It was our day.
The press began to beat the drum now that we were up 3–0. With two off days before the next game on Wednesday, they were writing about how we had roared through the playoffs and how great we were. Another angle reporters took was how weak the NBA had become due to expansion. The consensus was that this series was over. We knew that, too, but the Sonics weren’t finished yet. They had won 64 games and their backs were against the wall in their town in front of their fans. Even though we repeated the line from Pulp Fiction a couple of times during the next two days, there was no remedy. Seattle had its moment. In reality we had to come back to Chicago and get Ron Harper back on the court to finish off the Sonics in an executioner style sixth game. It was done on Father’s Day.
We had our morning shoot-around at the Berto Center. I told the players to participate in Father’s Day—enjoy their kids and honor their fathers, but to remember that we wanted to end the series tonight. I had the utmost confidence that we would win that night. Our fans were primed. The city of Chicago had been on alert for the last week in preparation for our winning, spending millions of dollars on security. There was just the right amount of tension in the air and within the players.
Before the game, the NBA Entertainment people, who do a wonderful job making videos documenting achievements in our league, asked to be allowed into the locker room. I didn’t want any distractions and declined. We jumped out to a double digit lead and kept the pressure on with great defense, winning 87–75. Ronnie did a good job on Payton, allowing Michael a chance to work on Hersey Hawkins, who only scored 4 points, our key to shutting them down. Scottie orchestrated the offense and took on Sam Perkins, their wily sixth man, who ended up shooting 3 of 14, scoring only 7 points. Luc Longley had a good offensive game with 12 points on 5 of 6 from the field. Dennis had 19 rebounds. Eleven of those rebounds were at the offensive end as we shot a woeful 40 percent. Michael, who had been our offensive force for the series, was 5 for 19 from the field, but still scored 22 points, as he took it to the basket and got to the foul line. Our bench played well, outscoring the Sonics 17 to 11—a big key in winning games in the playoffs. Toni had 10 points and Steve Kerr finally got his shot to go down and scored 7 points on 3 of 4 from the field. We had completed the task. Even if it wasn’t a great offensive night, our defense had shut the door.
Before the playoffs started way back in April, Ron Harper had coined a slogan and put it on some hats and shirts: “72 and 10 don’t mean a thing without the ring.” This Bulls team always had pressure on them to perform and they always lived up to the billing. I didn’t know how much pressure there was until following the game M.J. went into the locker room with the game ball and went to the floor, hugging the ball, and sobbing. The year had been a personal triumph for him and for all of us involved with the Bulls. Each story could be filled out with a prescription for excellence under the duress of a career, a reputation, an injury, a failure. It had been a community effort.
When some of the dust had cleared and we could retreat off the court to the privacy of our locker room, we entered our inner snactum and found it replete with a barrage of cameras. I went straight through the training room door, and we found a spot to join in our circle and say the Lord’s Prayer: Our last time together doing a communal act that represented something that joined our spirits. I could look them individually in the eye as we
joined hands and tell them I have never enjoyed a year as thoroughly as I did the year we had the Greatest Season Ever.
—PHIL JACKSON
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
We owe a special debt of gratitude to Lynn Nesbit, warrior agent, for finding the right home for Sacred Hoops. We are also deeply grateful to Todd Musburger, John M. Delehanty, and Bennett Ashley for their inspired teamwork and undying faith in the project.
Thanks to Bob Miller and Leslie Wells at Hyperion for recognizing what this book could become and helping us bring it to fruition.
Thanks to Helen Tworkov and Carole Tonkinson at Tricycle: The Buddhist Review for putting us together and planting the seed for the book in our minds.
Thanks to Pam Lunsford for her dedication and hard work; to Tex Winter for his basketball genius; to B. J. Armstrong, Bill Cartwright, Jim Cleamons, Craig Hodges, Michael Jordan, Jerry Krause, and John Paxson for their insights; and to Tim Hallam and Tom Smithburg for a team effort beyond the call of duty.
We are also indebted to Landon Y. Jones for his support and encouragement; to Amy Hertz for nurturing the book from the start; and to Dan Wakefield and Steven Winn for their perceptive reading of the manuscript. In addition, we would like to thank the following for their invaluable contributions: Richard Baker, Charlotte Joko Beck, Anna Christensen, Eugene Corey, John J. Delehanty, Mark Epstein, Elise Frick, Mike Her Many Horses, Melissa Isaacson, Charles and Joe Jackson, Sheldon Lewis, Ted Panken, John Sloss, Paul Weinberg, Martha White, Workman Publishing, and, last but not least, the Empress of Blandings.
Finally, we would like to thank our children, Elizabeth, Chelsea, Brooke, Charley and Ben Jackson, and Clay McLachlan, for teaching us spiritual lessons that could never be learned from a book.
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
Phil Jackson is an American original. A two-time All-American at the University of North Dakota, in 1967 he was drafted by the New York Knicks, where he played for eleven years and was a member of the 1970 and 1973 championship teams. Jackson guided the Chicago Bulls to six NBA championships in his nine years as head coach, from 1989 to 1998, and guided the L.A. Lakers to three titles as their head coach, from 1999 to 2004.
Hugh Delehanty is the editor-in-chief of AARP publications, who has written about sports and psychology for Sports Illustrated, Tricycle: The Buddhist Review, and other publications. He lives with his wife, Barbara, in New York City.
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OTHER WORKS
Also by Phil Jackson
The Last Season
by Phil Jackson
More Than a Game
by Phil Jackson and Charley Rosen
COPYRIGHT
Copyright © 1995 Phil Jackson
“Sacred Hoops Revisited” copyright © 2006 Phil Jackson
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher. For information address Hyperion, 114 Fifth Avenue, New York, New York 10011.
The Library of Congress has catalogued the original print edition of this book as follows:
Jackson, Phil
Sacred hoops : spiritual lessons of a hardwood warrior / by Phil Jackson and Hugh Delehanty. – 1st ed.
p. cm.
ISBN 0-7868-6206-8
1. Jackson, Phil. 2. Basketball coaches—United States—Biography. 3. Chicago Bulls (Basketball team) I. Delehanty, Hugh. 1949- . II. Title.
GV884.J32A3 1995
796.323'092—dc20
[B]
95–34543
CIP
Revised Paperback ISBN: 978-1-4013-0881-0
eBook Edition ISBN: 978-1-4013-0506-2
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Cover photograph © Joel Sternfeld, reproduced courtesy of Pace Wildenstein MacGill Gallery, 32 East 57th Street, New York, NY 10022
Cover design by David Cohen
First eBook Edition
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