The 45 Most Important Players to the Chicago Bulls Dynasty - #3 Horace Grant

Horace Grant
Horace Grant was selected 10th overall by the Chicago Bulls in the 1987 NBA Draft. As good as a player as Horace Grant was, he was still only the second most valuable acquisition for the Bulls during that draft as it was also the year that they selected Scottie Pippen. This is fitting for Horace Grant as he was a very good player who was constantly overlooked due to the surrounding cast he had during his time in the NBA.

After Grant's rookie year, the Bulls traded Charles Oakley to acquire Bill Cartwright. This gave the Bulls a starting center and opened up the starting power forward position for Grant. Once that happened, he was a model of consistency. You could always count on about 13 points, 9 rebounds, 2.5 assists, a steal, a block and some sweet rec-specs every game. He was the perfect third wheel for those early Bulls teams as he provided efficient scoring as a third option while doing the dirty work of defense and rebounding in the front court.

And this is where I get sad as a writer. There is nothing more to write about Horace Grant's time with the Bulls. He was a super good basketball player, but nothing about him stands out. He was above average in everything for a power forward, but there's not a lot of ways to wax poetically about above averageness. Did he have some exciting games? Yeah, but it's not like he ever took over a series, and even in his highlight video, he's not even doing the most impressive move in half of the plays.

Never second, never fourth, he was always the third best player on those Bulls teams.

And this is driving me crazy, because Horace Grant deserves better. The man is third on this list, and maybe that says it all. He was the third best player on the championship Bulls teams, the third best player on some really strong Orlando Magic teams, and even the third best player on the first Lakers championship team with Kobe and Shaq. He had the talent of the second best player on a contending team, and he ended up as a number three that helped build a dynasty.

With his talent, Horace Grant deserved more, but hopefully this was enough. It may not be the most exciting career, but it's still damn impressive.

Previous Entries:

#45 - Jack Haley

#44 - Rory Sparrow

#43 - Chuck Nevitt

#42 - David Vaughn

#41 - Jo Jo English

#40 - Ricky Blanton

#39 - Matt Steigenga

#38 - Joe Courtney

#37 - Keith Booth

#36 - Mark Randall

#35 - Ed Nealy

#34 - Rusty LaRue

#33 - Corey Williams

#32 - Joe Kleine

#31 - John Salley

#30 - James Edwards

#29 - Robert Parish

#28 - Darrell Walker

#27 - Rodney McCray

#26 - Dennis Hopson

#25 - Trent Tucker

#24 - Dickey Simpkins

#23 - Bobby Hansen

#22 - Scott Burrell

#21 - Bison Dele

#20 - Craig Hodges

#19 - Jud Buechler

#18 - Randy Brown

#17 - Cliff Levingston

#16 - Stacey King

#15 - Jason Caffey

#14 - Bill Wennington

#13 - Will Perdue

#12 - Scott Williams

#11 - Steve Kerr

#10 - BJ Armstrong

#9 - Luc Longley

#8 - John Paxson 

#7 - Bill Cartwright

#6 - Toni Kukoc

#5 - Ron Harper

#4 - Dennis Rodman

I Pissed Myself Playing NBA Jam

So I set out a a goal a couple weeks ago to do three posts a week on this blog. Last week was an epic failure, as I did not post a single thing. Sure, I could use the holidays as an excuse, but honestly, I had way more free time than normal last week. I was just really lazy. To punish myself, I will share an embarrassing story.

I once pissed myself playing NBA Jam. I was far past the age where I should have been peeing my pants, but I stand by the decisions that led to this outcome.

Kirby Puckett was my favorite baseball player growing up. Because of that, my family took a little vacay up to the Twin Cities to catch a baseball game and go to the Mall of America. The baseball game was rather uneventful. Kirby Puckett nearly threw me a baseball after my brother hollered at him, but his throw went to the little douchebags to the left of us who brought gloves to the game. I also remember being along the third base line at the front of the second level and still being scared to utter anything that Kirby Puckett might hear, because he was basically a god to me at that point in my life.

Anyway, the Mall of America. I was a ten-year-old boy (Yes, I was ten at the time of this, not a big deal. Let's get past this) who had to think malls were stupid, because that's what boys do. Still, this mall was legit. It had a roller-coaster that looked safe, which was important, because I was a gigantic pussy as a child.

They also had an arcade, which is the only other thing that I remember about the world's biggest mall. NBA Jam was the hottest game at the time, and I had it all to myself to destroy the evil computer gods in basketball with my two homies, Scottie Pippen and Horace Grant. Pippen was my favorite player, so he took all the shots, while Grant was there for rebounds and moral support.

So, surprisingly, because I was a ten-year-old with limited coordination, I was kicking ass at NBA Jam. After winning like two or three games in a row, I was playing the Charlotte Hornets. I had realized that I had to pee for quite a while, but I had already put my quarters in, so I certainly couldn't leave the machine. So, there I was, ten-years-old, battling the Charlotte Hornets in a back-and-forth battle, while doing the peepee dance. As time was ticking down, I stopped doing the dance, and the pee came trickling down. I was pissing down my leg while battling Kendall Gill and Larry Johnson. I knew this was bad, but goddamn, did I want to bash in the Hornets' brains, and I really didn't want to let Scottie down. Unfortunately, I ended up losing the game. I was finally able to leave the machine and let the rest of my pee out in a urinal, you know, like most three-year-olds are able to do.

There was literally piss running down my leg at one point, and I was hoping that me wiping it away like it was sweat would be a smooth maneuver. I am assuming that at least one person from my family noticed, and I would just like to thank them for not saying anything. I have been holding this story in for 18 years, as sharing it any earlier would have probably led to a lot of lot of sessions with a psychiatrist.

Much like letting that piss out while playing NBA Jam, I feel relieved.