The following is a Chicago Bulls themed fan fiction. None of the people mentioned in the following story has signed off on this story, nor are they aware of it’s existence and they probably don’t care.

He reached for the towel and buried his head in it. It’s soaked in sweat almost immediately.

He lifts his head, and stares across the floor. Madison Square Garden is the loudest it’s ever been, but he can’t hear any of it. He can’t let go of the knot in his stomach.

Jimmy is still out there. Still playing. Christ, how time passes. It’s like it was only yesterday, he was giving Jimmy pointers. Now, they’re Jimmy’s team now, and he’s in New York… Ain’t that some shit.

Rose keeps staring at him. Jimmy’s a good kid. He’s been through a lot. He deserves this as much as anyone.



“What do I deserve…” Rose whispers to himself.



“Don’t sweat that shit Pooh! We got this.” Jo was following Rose’s gaze. He understood. He knew there was nothing he could really say but… he had to say something. That’s what a friend does. Lets you know he’s there.



But this season. These finals. It’s June and Rose is in his best shape in over three years, maybe the best he’s ever been…

He can feel it. It’s the feeling you get, when the hoop doesn’t seem that tall anymore. Just like when he first started dunking. He was 15 years old. He still remembers. Everyone who was there fucking remembers.

Rose was having “one of those nights”, you know, the games they used to call flashback games, but if they were flashbacks then this has been one big flashback of a season.

The whole repertoire was on display, he was dunking on guys in ways that made Goran Dragic feel sorry for them. He was hitting treys that made steph curry shake his head. Crossing up guys in ways that made Allen Iverson’s ankles hurt.

But it’s been hard keeping up with him anymore… Jimmy’s younger. Taller. He can play 50 minutes straight if he wanted to, and still hit the gym that night. Rose knew, that if he was gonna do this… He can’t go to the bench again. Not while Jimmy’s out there.



The Zen master was up to his old tricks, subbing Rose out as the bulls started to make their run. but he was a fool to sub Rose out. Rose knew it. It doesn’t take an analytics team to see that the margin is closing every second Jimmy’s out there and Rose isn’t. Even Rose was amazed how well he’s kept up with him. Jimmy was amazed too… after Rose blocked his dunk at the buzzer of the 1st quarter from behind, amazed is all anyone could be.

Game 7 of the NBA finals hung in the balance and Rose was sitting on the bench while his old friend was leading the charge to close a narrow deficit at the end of the third quarter. Tom Thibodeau, who decided to return to the bulls after Jerry Reinsdorf, Gar forman and John Paxson all committed hara kiri, decided to ride Jimmy the whole 48 minutes tonight.

But if it was do or die, he wanted to die with Jimmy.

“Cut this shit out Phil and put me in, goddammit!” Rose said with a cool determination. Phil Jackson. A legend. Didn’t even look at him.



“Patience.” Phil hissed. It kinda freaked Rose out. Jo just laughed.



What the fuck he waiting for? The bulls had just tied the game to close the third quarter.

With the game knotted up at 117 going into the fourth quarter of game 7 of the NBA Finals at Madison Square Garden, Phil Jackson decided to put Rose in to start the fourth. He wanted to shift the momentum and an angry Pooh was what he wanted to see.

“Fuck yes.” Rose gave Phil Jackson a badass thousand yard stare, who returned it with a million yard stare. Derrick took off his warmups and checked in. He was antsy. He could feel his muscles tensing and loosening, like they were getting ready to kill.

“I got D Rose” Jimmy yelled out. Derrick felt his sphincter grow tight. Theres nobody he’d rather face at this moment. It would be just like their practices back on a shitty playground court in Englewood at two in the morning. They had spent many nights going one on one back then, this would be exactly the same, except the NBA championship now hung in the balance.

As he stepped into the court, he felt the satisfying compression of the Boost® foam under his red Adidas DRose 7s™. Those guys at Adidas fucking nailed it this time. It was a sign.



Melo was ready to inbound. Rose wasn’t even looking at the ball, but he knew it was gonna be exactly where he wanted it. His eyes never moved from Butler. Jimmy returned his stare. Under his soaked brow, his dark eyes told Rose everything.

The whistle sounded. He felt the smooth rubber hit his fingertips almost immediately. He got off heels, and dropped the ball to the floor. It’s time.

The whole fourth quarter was back and forth. Jimmy was not giving an inch to Derrick on defense, and Derrick was doing the same. They went hard in the motherfucking paint. Many times they’d be both found on the floor being the last two to let go of the ball.

Elbows were thrown, and tempers were flared. While they were the best of friends, they fought like only brothers could. Each knowing the other’s game, their weaknesses and temperaments laid bare, they fought a mental and emotional chess match.

They respected the shit out of each other and each of them knew that only one of them could win this one. They both knew that they’d embrace after the game, because that’s what brothers do. But only one of them would be doing the consoling the loser. In this moment, they were only concerned with the biggest game of their lives.

The biggest game of anyone’s life. All of Chicago stands at a stand still, while its greatest sons did battle in New York. Many Chicagoans proudly wore their No. 1 Bulls jerseys with their eyes glued to every television in the city.

Every single screen from Evanston to Englewood had the game on.

Scrotums and pussies tightened all over Madison avenue.

This was the most important moment in Chicago Sports History, even bigger than the time the Cubs won the World Series in 2016.

There was a minute and 17 seconds left in the 4th quarter. That gangly, uncoordinated McDermott elbowed the ball out of bounds trying to intercept a pass.

Rose was still confused how this dude was still in the league.



10 seconds on the shot clock. Rose got the ball and deftly swung it to Melo on the other side.

Snell. Goddammit. He was as green as they come, even in his 3rd season in the league. But he worked hard. Taking Melo off balance was the best they could do, but it was enough. The shot wasn’t there anymore.



Rose knew where he had to be, and got the ball back at the top of the key. Jimmy was right up on him, with Taj and Portis to either side guarding the basket.



He was going to have to force this play, and they all knew it. Friends make formidable foes, it seems.



Time slowed down. He swung the ball to the left, and Jimmy followed. Something was off.



There! Jimmy planted his right heel!

This is what he was waiting for. Probably what Phil was waiting for. That’s what happens when you play for the Bulls. When you got just one guy carrying the team, he gotta run out of steam at some point.



That’s all Rose needed to see. Without breaking stride, he crossed over through his legs to the right and charged at the basket. Taj lived up to his name. Just like that castle in India, he couldn’t move. It was too late for him and he knew it, and all he could do is look on in awe as Rose charged right past him.



But Portis… Bobby was young. Strong. Athletic. And he was right in front of the basket. Rose saw the shot clock behind him slowly click to 4.



Rose’s life flashed before his eyes. He was his big brother dropping him off at the courts after school. He saw his first AAU tryout. He saw the top of Dragic’s head. He saw the MVP trophy. He felt his knee. His knee… Goddammit.

Never again.



He will show them. He has to. He needs to transcend himself, and be the hero all those kids in Englewood need.

He planted both feet about just outside Portis’s reach and gathered. But so did Bobby. They jumped at the same time.



The math doesn’t check out. There’s no way he can dunk over Portis now… But there’s no other choice. He has to dunk this ball to win the championship. Its the only way.

He feels his muscles contract. His quads firing like pistons. As he rises, he lets out a primal roar that is heard from the top of the United Center (which is crazy, because they’re in MSG). This is different. As he’s rising, he doesn’t understand what’s happening. This can’t be possible. He feels a surge of heat going through his whole body, and a deep pull in his stomach. His vision goes white..



He feels Bobby’s body collide with his. But it’s weightless. It’s no obstacle… not anymore.



He hears the clang of the rim. The friction of the ball and the net.



He can see again. But it seems like years have passed in that moment. He looks around as half the arena looks at him with this look that he would later recognize as fear.



He looks to his left. Bobby is lying on the floor, with his eyes looking into space. There is a pool of blood under his head, and more blood is pouring out of his mouth. The arena is quiet in horror.



Why does he feel so warm?



He sees Jimmy. “Not bad,” Butler says sharply. “Looks like you’ve changed too.”

As the medics try in vain to resuscitate young Bobby Portis, and the mop boys try in vain to clean up all the blood, Rose and Butler are locked in a staredown.

The paparazzi are everywhere, as always. As they swarm, Rose sees his own reflection in their lenses.



Why is his hair blond…? Why are his eyes blue? What the fuck is happening.



Just then he noticed he’s not standing on the ground, but floating above it.



“You were destined for this,” said Jimmy with a smirk.



“But,” his smile faded and he took a wide stance. “So was I.”



He let out a roar like Rose has never heard before. Was it even human? Before he could process what was happening, he was hit with a gust of wind from Jimmy’s direction. There was a flash of light.



Jimmy was still there, but he looked larger. Veins were popping from his forehead. His hair was blond. His eyes were blue…



“Looks like we’re both,” Jimmy panted through his teeth, “Super Saiyan now.”

There were two Super Saiyans on the floor right now, but no one gave a shit. There was still a game to be played. After they cleaned up Bobby Portis’ corpse and mopped up all the blood, the show went on. This time with one minute left on the clock, and the Knicks having a two point lead.

Jimmy brought the ball up with Rose guarding him.

“I knew you could do it, but I was never sure if you ever would. All those years training together, playing one on one, lifting, everything, I saw it in you D Rose. I couldn’t have done it without you either, and now here we are. The most powerful basketball players in the league fighting for the right to the crown.” Jimmy equivocated.

“There was always something about you, Jimmy. Its always you who brought out the best in me. Its because of something you said to me that pushed me here. Something that pushed me to regain my throne as the MVP of this league,” Rose soliloquized back

“What was that, D?”

“ ‘That right there is mah brotha,’ “ Rose replied. Jimmy sniffled, and then began to weep, while dribbling the ball and the clock running out. Nobody seemed to mind, tho.

“Rose, you’ll always be my brother” Jimmy said tearily. “But you understand why I gotta do this….”

“I know, bro” Derrick said with a single tear rolling down his cheek.

Jimmy then became incredibly serious. His face went bone dry, all of a sudden. Derrick’s face was got dry and serious as fuck.

Jimmy went to try and take Rose off the dribble, but his handles aren’t as divine as Derrick’s and he lost his dribble.

“You ain’t D Rose, baby!” Derrick called out.



Butler smirked again. “I ain’t gotta be.”



He passed the ball to Taj to try and find another way to score. Jimmy faked outside like he was going to reset the offense and Derrick, thinking he had succeeded in stopping his friend, took the bait. Jimmy, then Super Saiyan cut towards the basket unimpeded and exploded off both feet.

Taj saw the open Butler and tossed a lob up, like he had so many times in practice. Jimmy cocked it back and slammed it home, tying the game with 36 seconds left.

Rose belted out a roar as Phil Jackson called timeout- the last one they had.

“Ok guys, I think we need to get the ball to our Super Saiyan and let him go to work” Phil said almost emotionlessly. Rose just then realized he couldn’t sense his chi, but pushed the thought to the back of his mind. There are more important things happening right now.

“You’re right coach. Yo, Pooh, we’re with with you to the bitter end. We ride or die with you here, and whatever happens, we trust you. I’ll always follow you through anything, bro.” Noah said firmly.

Rose made a small smile as he looked at Noah. “I got you, fam.”

The ref handed the ball to Melo and whistled. Noah set a screen for Rose to get open, but Jimmy got a hand up in Derrick’s face so when the pass from Melo came, he wasn’t ready for it. The ball bounced off his hand and out of bounds. Turnover. Great subtle play by Jimmy to force a turnover. That’s why they brought him here. That’s what makes him who he is.

“Haha, you think you can get open on me Rose. You forget, I watched you trying to get open over nearly a decade” Jimmy spat, “while you still had your knees…”

Rose was destroyed emotionally. They entrusted him with the ball with their last timeout, and he had thrown the ball carelessly away.

“Yo, D. I still believe in you bro. Just keep fighting. We still need one stop and one bucket. You FEEL ME?!” Jo barked out to Rose like Will Smith to Martin Lawrence in Bad Boys II.

“I FEEL YOUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!” DRose said as he got hyped.

The Bulls inbounded the ball to Jimmy who ticked seconds away on the clock.

“Derrick, you good. Maybe the best. Training with you, and battling with you this series has pushed me to my very limits. Lookin at you is like looking in the mirror. I can’t imagine being here without you. But unfortunately, every mirror fades and you gotta sell it at a yard sale or someshit.” Jimmy started to dribble towards the elbow spot.

“We all gotta fade away sometime-” Jimmy darted towards the basket “-MOTHAFUCKA!”

Drose went with him. At the last second, Jimmy stepped back, but Derrick was too late. Jimmy rose up for the jumpshot, while Rose tried to recover. It was too late.

SWISH. Jimmy G. Buckets. The G stands for… well, you already know.

The Bulls took the lead with 13 seconds left. Rose felt a moment of dejection when he remembered they didn’t have a timeout left.

“Hey D Rose! We got 13 seconds left. LETS FUCKING GO BRO! DON’T STOP BELIEVIN” Jo yelled out as he grabbed the ball for the inbounds. “RUN MOTHERFUCKER!”

Rose’s body woke up instantly. He took the inbound and ran down the court, forcing the Bulls to recover on defense. Somehow in all the chaos, Jimmy managed to find himself still guarding DRose.

“Damn, even in transition, I can’t shake him” Rose mused to himself.

Rose tried to find Jimmy’s weakness in the moment, but Jimmy was ready for every one of Derrick’s moves. Left or right, there was no where for Rose to go.

Noah, came running behind the play and set a screen for Rose right behind the 3 point line.

“You might sell a mirror at garage sale or whatever, Jimmy, but EVERY ROSE HAS IT’S THORNS” Rose yelled as he curled around Noah’s screen which caught Jimmy off guard. Rose gathered and hopped with his feet behind the 3 point line and let loose a shot right before the buzzer went off.

The ball seemed to float endlessly through the air. Every eye in Madison Square Garden, in New York City, and in Chicago squarely aimed at the orange orb rotating through an eternity.

It was off. Rose knew it, but everyone else was frozen in anticipation. In a split second, Rose let out a roar and blasted toward the hoop from the 3 point line, leaving a crater in his wake. As the ball bounced off the backboard, Rose caught it.



“Jimmy Butler,” Rose said calmly, turning to look into Jimmy’s eyes in midair, “suck my dick.”

The ball exploded on impact after it hit the floor, as it singed the net on its way down. If you asked him, Derrick couldn’t really tell you about the next few days. It was like a dream.



When he woke up from that dream he was standing over a grave. It was a warm afternoon, but the rain was coming down pretty hard.



The tombstone read:

Bobby Portis,

1995-2017

NBA Finalist.

“Not A Champion Tho”

He felt a chi behind him.



“That was some cold ass shit, Rose,” Jimmy said somberly. He looked like he could’ve cried, but didn’t. He’s cried all the tears he’s ever had already.



“I shouldnta done ‘im like that,” Rose sighed. “He was too young. He had a future ahead of him. People that loved him… probably.”

“It never ends the way you expect.”



“Sure don’t.”



He felt the weight of the ring on his finger.

Bobby Portis was not harmed in the writing of this story.