What is it about the spotlight that sometimes it falls on the person in no need of it at all? No, we are not talking about genocide ringleaders or crooked Cook County cronies. We are talking NBA basketball, Chicago Bulls basketball to be exact, and it’s most unlikely hero. This is not another Derrick Rose profile where we will spend time bloviating on how the humble kid from the West side does thing in midair that leaves seasoned F-16 pilots in awe. We are talking about a player who excites the crowd into such frenzy that his mere presence on the court is the equivalent of the sell out United Center audience being given free city stickers.
We are talking about the White Mamba as the Sky King doing the play by play alongside Neil Funk so endearingly calls him. We are talking about two words that bring a warm smile to the most winter whipped faces this city has to offer. We are talking about Brian Scalabrine.
Yes, the man you love to love. The man who some would call the human victory cigar due to his minutes being relegated to the last few minutes of a blowout game. What other bench player garners so much attention and goodwill while averaging a confidence boosting 1.4 ppg and an in your face 1.0 rebounds?
No one, that’s who.
Somehow this tall, red head has managed to be a fan favorite, beloved wherever he plays. But why all the love? Is he related to tens of thousands Chicagoans? What is the cause for the manic cheers each time he gets a touch? Is it the fact that he rather set up his teammates for an easy layup as opposed to taking a three-pointer himself? Scalabrine has somehow attained All- Star status in the city by being anything but.
Maybe it’s due to the fact that this city loves seeing someone willing to be put his ego in the attic and do what’s best for the team. In an era of flamboyance and histrionics on the court, Scalabrine represents something lost in the HD age. No, he will never be your first pick and there are no sixth man awards in his future. He is the twelfth man, part cheerleader, part benchwarmer. What separates him from his equivalents on other teams is that his dedication and basketball IQ is as sharp as Ray Allen’s aim. Scalabrine puts team first in a way that makes the Two and Half Men “super trio” in South Florida look downright silly when talking about sharing the ball. Your mom likes Scalabrine even if she, like many of us, cannot put her finger on exactly why.
But still for a guy with such non-existent stats, Scalabrine, like Springsteen or Jagger, easily holds the crowd in the palm of his hand. Perhaps since he hardly has the ball actually in his hand on a consistent basis this love affair can endure. Scalabrine, unwittingly, has become the guy everyone gets psyched about when he walks into the party. Some men just bring that something unexplainable in their mere presence that any occasion is instantly better when they arrive. It’s far from normal and hard to define. Let’s put it this way, if eager to please Andy Bernard received the flood of applause that Scalabrine does when he enters a game, then Michael Scott would have to come back to the office due to the new manager’s deadly heart attack from sheer adulation.
It’s good to be Brian Scalabrine. Los Angele’s #24, the Black Mamba, averages 29 more points than Chicago’s #24, but it’s the red head who has been nicknamed the yin to Kobe’s yang. Did I just write Kobe’s yang? It’s getting weird in here. I’m beginning to attribute this winter’s weak will on the presence of this 2001 second round draft pick in the city. Everything is better with a little Scalabrine.
The future is bright for the man. He is a practice guy who gives his all when the team is running scrimmages and knows the playbook as if he performed inception on Coach Thibodeau. One day he will slide into a suit and be an assistant with a future head coaching position not an unlikely possibility for the eleven year forward.
And he will be loved in the Windy City, where hard work is viewed with game winning shot approval, for as long as he wears a Bulls uniform. And when and if he leaves for another team you can bet a red headed step child’s beating that he will receive a standing ovation from an adoring crowd. That is as long as he keeps his stats under two points per game. Even Scalabrine, despite his serious demeanor, knows not to ruin a good thing.
Or it could be that there is just something so damn irresistible about rooting for a red headed white guy in a predominately black sport when he is in front of a predominately white crowd.
Either way, Scalabrine is the other guy who stands out like an MVP. While averaging numbers that almost any schlub off the street could muster on any given Tuesday, Scalabrine is living proof that you don’t have to perform glass shattering dunks or sleep with LeBron’s mom to be noticed in this ADHD era of the NBA. For the seldom seen White Mamba, less is definitely more.