Chicago Bulls. Champions.

On May 12, 2012, I told the world that our beloved Chicago Bulls would have to wait a year to begin their title run. I was wrong. We had to wait a lot longer.

Last year's Bulls team was great. They were hardworking, exciting, frustrating, hilarious, entertaining, filled with black guys (and whatever Carlos Boozer is), and a team we were all proud of. I had a great time watching them. After [more] unfortunate injuries and a near death (sorry Luol!), we got to watch the Bulls play their asses off only to get bounced by LeBron James and his landing strip of a forehead (bald on bald crime, I ain't above it). Oh well. For all you sissies out there that got your sweatpants twisted around your suffocating penises because Derrick Rose decided to sit out the entire season, you can all go back to the local hot dog places you came from and choke on several. Dicks, not hot dogs.

D-Rose was straight stuntin' in them suits.

And now we're here. A year and a half from a terrific season with a horrific ending. It's time for the suit to come off. If you're like me, you sat around all offseason watching D-Rose clips on YouTube, remembering his two-handed throw downs, those moments when you looked at your friend and mouthed 'What. The. Fuck?!' while shivering with excitement.

The team looks as complete as it has in a very long time. Joakim Noah came into the season with a groin injury which means he was up to exactly what I thought he would be up to this offseason.

Is this picture photoshopped? He's got video game face.

Luol Deng is in a contract year. Carlos Boozer finally stopped lying to himself, at least with regards to his hair. Taj is healthy. And I'm still afraid of Jimmy Butler. Even with that hair. Seriously. The guy looks like he can straight fuck somebody up. I love him. And even though I can't believe I'm still watching Kirk Hinrich in a Bulls jersey, I'm OK with it. Mostly because if I'm going to constantly want to murder a white guy on the team, it's going to be 90's time-traveller, Mike Dunleavy. These are our Bulls.

I hate happy endings. They're always cheesy. I don't want the hero to live. I want him to get brutally murdered, his legacy forgotten, his wife married off to his better looking brother, and his kids to turn into Heat fans. No happiness. Not for you, not for me, not for anyone. Smile at misery.

This, is different.

We teach our children to be individuals. To be strong, both in heart and in mind. To be courageous. To be intelligent. To be humble. And those of us smart enough to see the world for what it really is, teach our children to be the most honest versions of themselves in a world where we are all connected. We teach them that there is nothing individualistic, strong, courageous, intelligent, or humble about joining the popular side that is expected to win. We urge them to join the other side. To work hard. To motivate others. To build character. To build a team. To learn. To teach. To lead. And to build a legacy around all of those things.

That's what Chicago taught our #1 Native Son.

A Bulls championship. Sure, it's a happy ending. But that's not all it is. It's more than that. In a world of instant-gratification, celebrity, shortcuts, conformity, "fans" leaving before a close game is over, the Heat, and overall PUSSY-ness, it's The End. The End of all of that. I can feel it in my bones. LeBron, you are an amazing basketball player. Phenomenal. And probably a nice guy. But I don't believe you. WE do not believe you.

LeBron James, The End.

Bulls fans, we are here. Let's watch, let's believe, let's talk some motherfucking shit, and let's watch our boys back it up. And then let's celebrate. It's our time. D-Rose and the gang are going to teach us that we were right all along.

All. In.

- Marty Cuatchon