BY NATHAN BIERMA

While the Red Wings were the long-awaited champions, for the

Chicago Bulls it was "Been there, done that" after their title. 

The Red Wings' championship had been their first in decades; 

all in 1994 and '95, sandwiched between the Bulls' three-peat and

They dedicated it to the working people of Chicago at yet
another downtown victory parade, as though looking for some
remaining use for yet another trophy, yet another long season
ending with a familiar outcome.  But in contrast to those for
whom it was won, the 1997 championship came, Finals aside, with
little toil and tears.  It had been another steamroller season
for Chicago, not as numerically impressive last year's 72-win
feat, but dominant nonetheless.  The eccentric Dennis Rodman
stayed away, for the most part, from behavior burdensome to teams
of years past, and the team as a whole once again avoided
injuries.  Despite a roster that without Jordan and Scottie
Pippen few teams envied, the Bulls' team-oriented triangle
offense, seemingly outdated and out-of-place in today's NBA,
clicked to combine with again stifling defense for another
dominant year.  The Bulls reached the Finals in high gear, having
dropped only two playoff games, and with their superstar, Jordan,
hungry to prove that he, not Finals opponent Utah's Karl Malone,
deserved to be the MVP. 

The 1997 NBA Finals provided the drama that had been missing
in the regular season and playoffs up to this point.  Utah, in
its first Finals appearance, proved undaunted by the ominous task
of opening in Chicago, where the Bulls had seemed especially
invincible.  The Jazz fought to a tie with the Bulls in Game 1
with seconds to go and regular season MVP Karl Malone at the free
throw line.  His famous pre-shot mumbling failed as he missed
both shots and opened the door for Jordan heroics at the other
end of the court.  Jordan gathered the in-bounds pass, found
himself one-on-one with Utah's Bryon Russell with five seconds
left, and ran the clock down to one before launching a 20-foot
fadeaway, right on the mark as the buzzer sounded.  Predictable,
but memorable nonetheless.  The decisive Game 6 brought an
unlikely hero as Steve Kerr knocked down a straightaway 18-footer
to put the Bulls ahead with seconds to go.  After Scottie
Pippen's steal and sliding pass setting up Toni Kukoc's buzzer-
beating dunk, the United Center erupted.  The Bulls, having
finished their drive for five, put their unstoppable machine in
park, sat back, and sighed, a familiar sigh, but still swelling
with satisfaction. 

But some noticed a touch more meaning in this
celebration.  It was the fifth such in seven years, but some
picked up signs of trying to savor this a bit more, player
embraces that lasted just a second longer.  For the city knew
well that this sight, by now so familiar, could be the last such
for some time.  Even as the incredible machine rolled to another
title, whispers in the background discussed its dismantling.  The
contracts of Jordan and coach Phil Jackson expired with this
championship, and without them the Bulls, dominant as they seemed
this season, were just another also-ran.  Each demanded the
other's presence next year for a return, but even then hinted
that a next year would be the last.

When the NBA Draft came around, looming the least
interesting in years, the off-the-court, behind-the-scenes drama,
that of the general manager telephone sort, began.  In the works
was a monster trade to send Scottie Pippen to the Boston Celtics,
the franchise whose legacy remained the Bulls' toughest opponent,
though now crippled by lack of talent and leadership.  University
of Kentucky mastermind Rick Pitino was brought in to combat both
of those problems, and wasted no time in offering the Boston-
owned 3rd and 6th picks for Scottie Pippen. 

This tested the Bulls brain trust.  There was no question
its unprecedented dynasty was in its twilight, yet with another 
year to possible squeeze out of it, was rebuilding premature? 
This could be the best opportunity to shore up the long-term
future of the franchise, but would the fans forgive them for
breaking up the greatest show in sports the city of Chicago had
ever seen?  The rumor mill had the vacationing Michael Jordan
step in and call off the trade with a threat to leave himself,
and the deal fell through.  Pitino, visibly disappointed,
announced the drafting of Colorado guard Chauncey Billups, and at
6 selected Ron Mercer, whom he coached at Kentucky the last two
years.  Picked first was Tim Duncan, heads and shoulders above
the rest of the talent-thin field depleted by early exits the
last few years.  Keith Van Horn was chosen second by
Philadelphia, for whom he said he didn't want to play, then
traded to New Jersey in a multi-player deal.

In the end the Bulls remained intact, and all signs showed
them determined to sign Jordan and Jackson for another title run. 
Amid arguments as to whether it was the greatest dynasty ever,
the team just barely survived the whims of general managers with
its integral components in place.  Perhaps this provided the
firmest ground for proclaiming the Bulls the best in history: the
Celtics of the 60's and Lakers of the 80's never dealt with the
front office factor to the extent the Bulls had--with the odious
terms such as salary cap and free agency.  Indeed, these had been
Chicago's fiercest opponents in the absence of an on-court
marquee rivalry.

So while the sports world yawned at the Bulls' winning it
all yet again this year, the city of Chicago didn't seem to mind
the familiarity.  It realized the rarity of its team, not just in
the ranks of Chicago sports, but in the history of sports as a
whole.  And draft day showed that such rarity can only increase
in today's topsy-turvy NBA, where change is the only constant,
money the greatest motivation.  Chicago knew its Bulls were a
throwback, not only in their selfless on-court style,  deviating
only for the great Jordan, not just by their insatiable and
unmatched desire to win, but also in their relative longevity and
sustained dominance in a decade that seemed to insure a league
trend against anything long-term. 

The Bulls may return to win a sixth title next year in their
curtain call before exiting the stage on which such an unusual
story unfolded.  But whether they meet success yet again, to the
groans of the rest of the country at the renewed redundancy, or
bow out in less appropriate fashion, Chicago will be sure to take
a moment to appreciate, as it did this year, its team and what it
accomplished this decade.  Then the Bulls will fade away, leaving
a league swirling in waves of uncertainty, consumed by change,
blinded by dollar signs, suffocated by selfishness, and wondering
how a team like the Chicago Bulls so recently, so earnestly, so
effortlessly, and so successfully defined dominance in sports. 

Hockey: Triumph and Tragedy
Basketball: One for the ages, again
Boxing: Dismemberment and disgrace
Golf: Two tough to take