Dear Derrick, I started following NBA towards the back end of your 2011 MVP campaign.
I did not follow a team, but watched basketball on occasion. This was before I fell in love with your play.
You attacked the rim with a certain ferocity and athleticism I did not think possible, and the excitement of the United Centre Crowd every time that you sliced through a defence was special.
Too big. Too strong. Too fast. Too good.
I watched you be praised as the youngest MVP in NBA history. As the home-town hero in Chicago, the successor to Michael Jordan and the best player in the league, there was nothing you could do wrong.
I bought a poster the length of my bedroom wall and framed it, and bought many other small ones like it to display in my bedroom. This is how I fell in love with the Chicago Bulls, and ultimately, the NBA.
The 2012 season, my first full season following the league, was up and down. You missed multiple stretches of the lockout-shortened season with injuries, most notably severe back spasms.
The Bulls managed the first seed in the East, however, and you were available for game one of the playoffs. Game one went perfectly for the most part, with Chicago playing beautiful basketball and having a double digit lead with time dwindling.
Then you fell. And you grabbed your knee. And you didn’t get up. Until you were helped off the court by staff and players, and the entire city of Chicago drew a collective gasp.
This was the beginning of your demise, and Chicago’s demise, and we all know the story of how it ended. You showed flashes of your MVP self in 2014-15 and 2015-16, but it was clear the pressure placed upon your shoulders by fans became too much. You were unable to return to that MVP-mentality of attacking the rim with authority.
You are my all-time favourite player, and I wish you nothing but the best. I believe you can accomplish special things in New York, if the mind is willing. With Joakim Noah, your best mate, you can take home a championship.
I will feel the joy as if the Bulls had won it themselves. You will always be from Chicago, and Chicago should always typify the manner in which Derrick Rose rose to stardom.
As Stacey King has famously stated, big time players make big time plays. Go get ‘em, Derrick.
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