On the eve of the season, the Warriors traded Scott Burrell to Chicago. After years of playing in vain against Michael Jordan, Burrell now was his teammate.
Welcome aboard?
On the first day of practice, Jordan told him, "You know, Scott, you thought the best part of this trade is that you're going to be playing with me. You wouldn't have to play against me anymore. Well, the worst part is now you have to play against me every day."
Burrell was in for quite a ride, a ride that would lead to his one NBA championship, a relationship that, to this day, is actually warm, and a dynamic that is a recurring theme in the long-awaited and much anticipated ESPN documentary series, "The Last Dance." With no live sports, the series figures to have a huge, captive audience.
We know Burrell's story around here. One of the greatest athletes in Connecticut high school history, recruited at Hamden High as a major college quarterback, drafted in the first round by both MLB and the NBA, a glorious UConn career etched in memory with his perfect pass to Tate George for The Shot in 1990.
When he joined the Bulls on Sept. 22, 1997, he was no rookie, but Jordan, who told reporters in Chicago that year that Burrell is "my pet project" and felt the need to push him like one, thought he was just too nice. That comes through loud and clear in "The Last Dance," and Jordan has been saying he fears people will think he's a "horrible guy" after watching it.
Burrell, 49, now the basketball coach at Southern Connecticut State University, worries about that, too.
"I just hope people don't look at this movie the wrong way and think he's a bad person, or a mean person," Burrell says, "or he's aggressive. He just tried to motivate guys so they prepare, just like coach (Jim) Calhoun."
The first two of 10 episodes of "The Last Dance" were aired on ESPN on Sunday night, and will be rerun next Sunday before episodes 3 and 4, with two new installments each Sunday through May 17. The series will be available outside the U.S. via Netflix.
As the title suggests, the series dives deep into the last of Jordan's six NBA championship runs with the Bulls. Burrell and Joe Kleine were newcomers to the team, and as Jordan explained at the time, he wanted them to get their first rings.
"When I got there, it was, 'You better do your job,'" Burrell says. "I'm a new guy on the team. They've won five of the last seven championships. Don't come here and mess up. Do your part. There are no free rides."
Jordan urged Burrell to go harder and harder in practice, but Burrell was afraid of injuring the sport's ultimate superstar. "He was the NBA," Burrell says. "You don't want to bump knees or hurt his ankle. The world would come down on you."
Finally, Jordan told him, "I don't get hurt. Just keep going hard. Keep playing."
The film will show some cringe-worthy moments, reviewers say, where Jordan rides Burrell remorselessly. But Burrell, who sat down for an hourlong interview in New York for the series, didn't seek sympathy then, or now.
"They're going to make a lot about me and him," Burrell says, "how he challenged me every day. ... It's the real Michael _ uncut, unfiltered, how he is every day in practice, why he's great, what drives him and how he drives people, motivates people. I just feel bad if people walk away not knowing what drove him to be the best. I'm afraid people will look at him as a bully or something like that. It's how a person takes it. I took it as tough love, hard coaching. All the things he said and did to me were making me better, making me mentally tougher and preparing me for life on and off the court."
Jordan, 57, now principle owner of the Charlotte Hornets, has always been a figure of mystique. He won an NCAA title for Dean Smith at North Carolina and played for the Bulls from 1984-93, and from 1995-98, a five-time MVP with that time off in his prime for the inexplicable foray into baseball. He was MVP of the NBA Finals in each of his six championship runs and came out of retirement again to finish with the Wizards in 2003. Burrell remembers the aura, and only ranks the auras of Dale Earnhardt, Tiger Woods and Kobe Bryant as even close.
"There is only one M.J.," Burrell says. "He had the package, everything, athletic ability, tenacity, toughness, skill, determination, hard work. Every attribute, he used it to make himself a great player. It's amazing what he did every day, without ever taking a day off, performing at a level like no other. An unbelievable person to play with and learn from."
And there's still a lot of the Jordan influence in Burrell's coaching style at Southern, "but you have to tone it down with today's kids," he says.
As crazy as it may sound to those old enough to remember him as a Bull, Jordan seems somehow under-appreciated today. When Burrell goes out recruiting, he is asked what Jordan was like _ by AAU and high school coaches, not the players. He chalks it up to the social media age. LeBron James' highlight plays can be seen over and over again on your iPhone; you have to go search for videos of Jordan's signature moments. When they played golf a year or so ago, Burrell kidded Jordan that to today's generation, he's known as "the shoe guy."
In 1997-98, the Bulls got off to a slow start, with Scottie Pippen injured, but with Jordan's relentless drive behind them, they finished 62-20. Burrell gave them what they needed off the bench, playing in 80 games, averaging 13.7 minutes, 5.2 points, 2.5 rebounds. In 21 playoff games, he averaged 12.4 minutes, 3.8 points. Jordan's jumper was the game-winner against Utah in the decisive Game 6 of the Finals.
"I'm so thankful to be a part of that team, to experience how greatness works," Burrell says. "It was an unbelievable experience. You win a championship, you realize you played for the best team in the world."
With "The Last Dance" about to debut, Burrell started getting calls last week from media throughout Connecticut, the U.S., as far away as New Zealand and Australia. He appeared on SportsCenter on Monday afternoon to discuss his role with the Bulls, as well as his full-court pass to George in 1990.
"I texted Michael," Burrell says, "and said, 'Thanks for making me have to do all these interviews.' He texted back, 'Laughing my (butt) off. You're welcome. ... Hope all is well.'"
