Jerry Krause

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Bulls.com

CHICAGO – Today, the Chicago Bulls named the inaugural class for the organization’s new Ring of Honor, which will recognize and celebrate past players, coaches and front office staff who made outstanding contributions and helped define the organization throughout its history. The Bulls will celebrate the first class, which includes 13 individuals and the 1995-96 team, with several events in January including a halftime presentation during the Bulls game against the Golden State Warriors on January 12 and a private gala at the United Center on January 11, both proudly presented by Magellan Corporation. Fans will be able to engage with the Ring of Honor through a United Center atrium experience that will be open to the public from January 10 through January 12, as well as a website that will launch in early January.&nbsp;

“The Chicago Bulls Ring of Honor will be a first-of-its-kind celebration honoring many of the legends who have helped shaped our organization over the past 57 years,” said Michael Reinsdorf, president and chief executive officer. “They have deep connections to our fans and community and represent a spirit of competition, hard work, and toughness.&nbsp; This January, we look forward to cementing their legacy in Bulls history and inspiring the future of our organization.”&nbsp;&nbsp;

The Bulls will add to the Ring of Honor every two years with the next class being inducted in 2026.&nbsp;

The inaugural class includes 13 individual Bulls legends and one team: Artis Gilmore, Phil Jackson, Michael Jordan, Johnny “Red” Kerr, Dick Klein, Jerry Krause, Toni Kukoc, Bob Love, Scottie Pippen, Dennis Rodman, Jerry Sloan, Chet Walker, Tex Winter, and the 1995-96 team, which went 72-10 and won the 1996 NBA Championship.&nbsp;&nbsp;

The Bulls will honor the following players, coaches and staff from the 1995-96 team:&nbsp;&nbsp;

Chicago Bulls Ring of Honor Selection Criteria&nbsp;&nbsp;

Chicago Bulls Ring of Honor honorees must all meet a set of criteria:&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;

For the first class, in addition to the general evaluation criteria, all individual players have been honored by the Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame or have had their retirement banners raised at the United Center.&nbsp;&nbsp;

To learn more and sign up for updates, please visit Bulls.com/RingofHonor. To buy tickets for the January 12 game, please visit Bulls.com/tickets.&nbsp;&nbsp;

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Chicago Bulls Launch Ring of Honor and Announce Inaugural Class

Sam Smith explains how conflict between management, players, and coaches helped motivate that final championship season

Was it Jerry Krause who saved Michael Jordan's legacy as a winner? Stay with me here. That's probably not the narrative we're going to see in ESPN's much anticipated 10-part Last Dance documentary that begins Sunday night. Certainly a major arc of the story is going to be Phil Jackson's famous "Last Dance" designation for what became the inevitable end of the Bulls championship dynasty. "If you go 82-0 you're not coming back," Krause had told Jackson. "I'm not playing if Phil Jackson is not coach," Michael Jordan declared. And away everyone went through a season of constrained delight in their quest and despair about their future.

It seems like it's going to be a story well told, hagiography in which Jordan despite some apparent trepidation about his image finally will get to tell his story his way to his adoring public. It should make for a rollicking tale and perhaps the perfect final bow for a legend who appeared like he was taking that finale that season in Salt Lake City.

Kick back, kick up your heels and put your dancing shoes on.

It's time to save the Last Dance for Michael. And the rest of us.

But there's so much more to be over into this intricate patchwork.

Because Jordan and Phil Jackson probably understood better than any that to extend that dynasty another season beyond No. 6 probably meant Jordan going out a loser.

Would Michael have come back with the Wizards in 2001 if he left the Bulls being knocked out of the playoffs early? OK, maybe Michael.

Phil, the son of Pentecostal ministers, understood the attention span of a congregation. One of his greatest strengths was how he dealt with his players as an underrated strategist and spiritual guide, as well. Seven years was an exclamation point in his view for a group and its leader. The message would begin to blur. It was now going into year nine. Phil's internal alarm clock had rung. Scottie Pippen's commitment had reached its limit over perceived insecurities and the lack of financial security. He would even go AWOL for about three months. And Dennis Rodman's self medicating regimen finally seemed to become irreversible.

Perhaps the real phenomenon of all this — and maybe Jordan's greatest magic act — was turning this dysfunctional spectacle into a coherent convoy that requires the greatest of commitment, patience and perseverance.

That's how you truly earn the greatest designation. Not only by doing what is special, but by doing what should have been impossible.

The story of the 1997-98 Bulls began at the party for the 1996-97 champion Bulls, the conclusion of that singular two-year run of 72 and 69-win seasons, the latter in which Jackson pulled on the reins and lost three of the last four regular season games. Neither team got to a seventh game in any playoff series, a stunning 30-7 in the playoffs without ever trailing in any series.

But rumors were becoming murmurs, that with Jordan, Pippen and Rodman free agents among several others, management might short circuit their electric impact on the basketball world.

When the Bulls celebrated their now annual NBA title at lakeside Grant Park, team executives weren't introduced. Jackson spoke for about 20 seconds before players were introduced amid chants of "One more year!" and "Bring him back!"

"Hopefully in 1998 you guys can go out and celebrate and say we won No. 6," Jordan offered in brief remarks.

So Krause was planning, or at least considering when asked. The Celtics with coach M.L. Carr comfortably lost the most games for the Tim Duncan sweepstakes. The lottery balls came up tilt and the Celtics got the No. 3 pick in a one-player draft. So incoming coach Rick Pitino panicked. He needed to hit the ground running, so he reached out to the Bulls about Pippen. Boston had two of the top six picks and veterans to spare. Krause saw the future. He believed with Pippen needing yet another surgery, it was a rare opportunity to cash in a big name without that same big game anymore for the foundation for the future, Tracy McGrady as the lead figure. Plus, Krause believed the Bulls still could strain out another title with a veteran thrown into the deal. After all, the Bulls still had Jordan, Rodman, Toni Kukoc and a deep, hardened bench. Actually pretty smart. But managing partner Jerry Reinsdorf interceded. They should have the chance to defend. No deal.

Then comes the part where Krause, invariably, gets in his own way. Krause waned to be the guy to kick butt, which was difficult with his foot in his mouth.

Krause's daughter was married that summer. Jackson and his wife, June, heard about the wedding the Bulls staff was invited to when a friend asked what she was wearing to the wedding. "What wedding?" June responded. Iowa State coach Tim Floyd, whom Jackson came to call "Pinky," was a guest with his wife.

Jackson by now was, to paraphrase the rock band, comfortably numb. He'd hit his wall.

Krause and Jackson had become estranged as seasons wore on. But Krause also knew Jackson had enough. Reinsdorf made the rare trip to Montana to Phil's summer home to negotiate the new deal between just them. Reinsdorf talked about a multi-year extension. Phil said he wanted no part of a rebuilding program, which the Bulls obviously were close to given the ages. It was time for his sabbatical much as it was for Jordan after nine years in 1993. It was nine years for Phil after 1997-98.

Krause, as was his bumbling way, much too eagerly carried this information to the extreme in declaring Jackson done as they met before the opening media day session. Even 82-0 for emphasis! There was an unnecessary press release for further emphasis. And then Krause's infamous interview in which he, as usual, channeled our famous mayor Richard Daley who was known to never come out of the same sentence he entered. So organizations win championships. Krause was trying to give some credit to the others in the love affair with the players, and likely also to soothe his bruised ego with the credit he so demanded that was so much denied because it was so often demanded.

Jackson smiled wryly and said that sounded like Jerry.

Michael preferred big entrances. So he typically skipped media day and delivered his solo performance the next day.

Typical of Krause, the team deserved a chance to finish, he wasn't playing without Phil.

Phil's wry smile signaled much more. He had his theme for the season. What a gift! Though Phil's success was often excused and unappreciated because of the team's talent, no one other than Red Auerbach with talent like that ever saw it succeed for so long. Pat Riley wrote books and called it the Disease of Me. His only threepeat was from his copyright residuals.

Jackson knew this one would be the most difficult, just as it was in 1992-93 with the Bulls stretched that third time and Jordan talking openly to teammates during the playoffs of retiring from the strain. No one believed him.

But the fabric of this fine Bulls garment was not only showing internal wear, its threads were being stretched to breaking. Forever dissatisfied with his contract and then with the aborted trade, Pippen went on strike. He postponed his ankle surgery scheduled for June to September so he could enjoy the summer and then sit out the first half of the season following the surgery. So tit for tat, Krause denied Pippen permission to play in his own charity game that September. No one but Jordan had the Love of the Game play anytime clause. Two months later in an early season road trip even though he wasn't playing, Pippen announced he was never again playing for the Bulls because of the organization's mistreatment.

Rodman was a holdout asking the Bulls for a then huge $9 million deal. He'd missed 27 games the previous season with sundry suspensions and injuries and got a technical in every playoff game. His three-minute egg of a reprieve was cracking open.

Jordan's allegiance to Jackson was sincere even if they weren't exactly late night phone call confidantes. Phil understood early the daily demands on Jordan. So he made it a point never to ask Jordan for anything. No autographs for his kids or the neighbor. No pictures. No introductions. He was there to coach Michael. Michael, similarly, often felt he was being used, that so many were trying to get something from him. He realized Phil wasn't among them. Whereas early in their relationship Michael doubted the so called equal opportunity offense, he became a champion as much because of Phil's sincerity. Players more than anything want a way for you to help them improve and get what they want, be it money or fame. Michael saw Phil could do that with his sacrifice and sincerity.

Phil also understood better than most coaches the value of the group. It often was a theme and symbol of his coaching that was mocked by some because of the Native American and Eastern religion references. There weren't many Kipling readers on the team, but they knew, The strength of the Pack is the Wolf, and the strength of the Wolf is the Pack.

But at its core was the congregational aspects learned from his parents.

Phil's team was his congregation, his flock. Those collections of individuals had varying personalities, strengths and weaknesses. And so they had to be treated special, similar and different. Horace Grant, whose goal it was as a kid to join the Marines, could handle drill sergeants. Pippen thought AWOL. So when Jackson sough to make a point to Pippen he chastised Grant. Later Kukoc. Which is why Pippen's infamous 1.8 seconds holdout in the 1994 playoffs was a distraction for about three hours. Jackson turned the matter over to the platoon knowing Pippen would only retreat from corporal punishment. Similarly, Jackson understood he had to allow Pippen to ease back on his own. Which Pippen would do in January, though his impact then unsettled Rodman.

Rodman, who never was close with Jordan or pretty much anyone on the team. From his broken childhood, he long sought that acceptance and father figure like he had in Detroit with Chuck Daly. With Scottie gone, it could be Michael. Dennis became as committed as he ever was with the Bulls. But when Scottie returned in January, Dennis felt abandoned once again, drifting in and out of his obligations. All those adolescent fears of betrayal seemed realized again. This was not a group of people with a long term promise of amity.

You sensed both Michael and Phil understood that the best.

So Phil had a theme he could use to bond the team and Michael had his motivation to drive him. It always had to be something for Michael, real or imagined. Cut from the high school team, Dean Smith keeping him off the cover of Sports Illustrated as a freshman, the All-Star freezeout, Jeff Van Gundy saying he was a conman, trash talked by Bryon Russell, unable to defend LaBradford Smith.

They're trying to break us up! We'll show them!

Sure, Michael was dedicated to Phil. But here was a guy who could change his mind like someone does their Air Jordans. I'm not playing in the 1992 Olympics. I'm never playing basketball again with the 1993 championship. I'm 99.9 percent sure with the Last Dance.

Jordan was close with Bulls assistant Frank Hamblein, a longtime Jackson aide and triangle acolyte. Tex Winter remained on the staff. Michael could pick his next coach and he knew that. If he wanted to he'd get another 10 percent raise on his $33 million contract and similar offers would be made to everyone else. After all, you're not giving multiyear deals if Jordan won't take one. But Pippen wanted his big deal at a time back issues kept him out of the end of the 1998 Finals and forced surgery after that season. The explosive athletic brilliance was gone after that. Pippen became a free agent burden with the Rockets. Rodman immediately became a destructive liability with the Lakers.

Michael went on to seriously injure a finger on his right hand with a cigar cutter during that 1998 lockout. It was questionable whether he'd even been able to play if he returned that season. Though no one knew all of that in the fall of 1997. But what Phil and Michael did likely sense was perhaps this was an unusual gift from Jerry Krause that might help lift them from the drudgery and ennui of a third championship slog once again. They knew how difficult it had been before.

The NBA locked its doors at the end of June after that 1998 Finals. It would be the longest labor action in league history that would last until January 1999. There was to be no team/player meetings. But David Stern was not about to push away Michael Jordan. So Jordan and Reinsdorf surreptitiously met in early July in downtown Chicago. Jordan said he was done. Reinsdorf counseled patience. It was a lockout after all. He didn't have to make a decision until it was over. No, Jordan said, that was it.

No more song and dance or fancy footwork. That was the Last Dance. It was a wonderful show and worth repeating. At least during the next several weeks.

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Kick up your heels and put your dancing shoes on for "The Last Dance"

Sam Smith

Jerry Reinsdorf was perhaps most reassured he'd made the right choice in Jerry Krause when Krause was most wrong. No one makes the correct decision all the time; it's the person who surrounds themself with the brightest minds, engages, debates, listens and then makes the best selection is who usually succeeds.

For the Bulls and Jerry Krause it meant one of the premier dynasties in NBA history, six Bulls championships and Friday the enshrinement of Krause in the Naismith Basketball Hall of Fame Class of 2017.

A great scout understands physical talent and competitiveness; a great executive appreciates mental acuity, boldness and self confidence. A Hall of Famer is able to combine them.

"His strength really was scouting; not administrative, but from an administrative strength it was surrounding himself with qualified people and then encouraging them to speak their mind and being willing to admit he wasn't right all the time; that is a strength," said Bulls managing partner Jerry Reinsdorf, who hired Krause as his first general manager in 1985. "There was his assistant Karen Stack, the way he utilized Irwin Mandel and the salary cap, the right coaching staff, his knowledge of the rules, his work ethic.

"Every conversation he ever had was written down on a yellow pad and he could go back on it," said Reinsdorf. "There never was a question about who said what to whom. When you talk about Jerry Krause and what made him so good, it was in the scouting area: His imagination, his ability to identify talent, both playing and coaching. He found Doug Collins, he found Phil Jackson."

Though Reinsdorf, who Friday will appear on stage in Springfield as the Hall of Fame presenter for Krause's enshrinement, points to when Krause was about to be very wrong as one of the reasons why he was right so often.

It was the famous 1987 NBA draft that effectively filled in the pieces around Michael Jordan and seriously began the Bulls' road to historic glory. Krause was certain that North Carolina big man, Joe Wolf, was the right complement to the drafting of Scottie Pippen. Though Pippen had moved up quickly that season from unknown and Bulls find to the hottest draft prospect, Krause's maneuvers with trades involving Juwan Oldham and Olden Polynice enabled the Bulls to get the future Hall of Famer and alltime top 50 player.

But Krause also wanted Wolf, an OKP in his view, his shorthand for the right sort of character and competitiveness, Our Kind of People.

"He always was looking for skills, but character was very important to him," said Reinsdorf. "He always wanted to know what guys were doing when they weren't playing. He liked to watch them on the bench, interacting. He did a lot of due diligence in talking to people who knew them.

"That 1987 draft we were going to take Joe Wolf, his kind of player, tough guy, character, but Horace (Grant) started to slip," Reinsdorf recalled. "That whole year had been devoted to getting Pippen. All year Pippen is our guy and then he goes to the predraft camp in (Portsmouth) and then we knew we were in trouble and he had to maneuver to get Pippen. The second pick would be Joe Wolf.

"We're taking Wolf, but the coaches were getting excited," Reinsdorf recalled. "They're saying if Horace gets to us we've got to take him. Krause says no: Wolf. We're now two picks before and the coaches are lobbying for Horace. I say to Jerry, ‘Let's take a walk.' I tell him he has my full confidence and whatever he wants to do, it's his call. He comes back and says he's changed to Horace. He was enough executive to say, ‘People I respect want Grant and I'll trust their judgment.' To me, that's executive strength.

"One important element of a great executive is the strength to hire the best people and then listen to them," Reinsdorf added, "The confidence and courage to admit you don't know everything and that the people you hired know things as well. I always say I want people to do their job better than I can. It's the strongest people who can let others disagree with you, take strong positions and not get upset. Jerry was able to do that."

Reinsdorf admits he had no idea, not only whether Krause could do the job but even who he was. Even after he hired him, Reinsdorf said NBA commissioner David Stern asked why he'd done so. Him? But if Krause didn't look or sound the part—and he never would to many in the public and media—he seemed almost to read Reinsdorf's mind about what success meant in basketball.

Reinsdorf wasn't sure he could explain it, and he knew he couldn't deliver it himself. But he knew it when he saw it. When Reinsdorf was getting involved with the Bulls purchase a few years after putting together a group to acquire the Chicago White Sox, he did speak with former Knick Bill Bradley. That was it: Ball movement, passing, unselfish play, strong defense. OK, built around the league's best scorer. But it still was possible.

"I never thought in terms of a timetable for a championship," Reinsdorf admits. "I just wanted to be good enough to challenge for one. Out of the blue Jerry comes to me because he wants to be the general manager. I basically humored him by talking to him. I thought it was a joke. My first experience with Jerry was with the White Sox at our first organization meeting and this guy wouldn't shut up. I say to (general manager) Roland Hemond, ‘Who is this guy? He just keeps talking.' He tells me he's Jerry Krause. I said, ‘Can't you shut him up?' He says, ‘No, nobody can shut him up.' I said, ‘Why don't you just get rid of him.' He says he's too good. That was my only real experience with him.

"Then we buy the team," Reinsdorf said. "He comes to me and says he wants to be the general manager. I didn't know he'd even been in basketball. He tells me about his background. So I say, ‘OK, what are you going to do?' I knew what I wanted, to rebuild the New York Knicks of the 70s, defense, an offense with player movement and movement of the ball. I never said that. But that's what he laid out to me. He told me he had this guy Tex Winter he was going to bring in. He told me what he was going to do and how. Tex Winter, I guess I'd heard of him. But I'd never heard of the triangle offense, which he explains to me, and a defensive mindset.

"He didn't know who the head coach would be," said Reinsdorf. "His first idea was Stan Albeck, but when we interviewed him he said he wasn't the same Stan. But he didn't have a second choice and we took a chance. How he came up with Doug Collins I don't know. He was broadcasting and recruiting at Arizona State. But you could see progress every year with everything that was going on. I didn't have doubts because of that.

"We started moving players out and got to the playoffs that first year with Michael hurt. "The record wasn't good," Reinsdorf acknowledged, "but you could see we were getting better. What I saw was a plan. He knew Johnny Dawkins is not a point guard. Then Brad Sellers was going to be a seven foot shooting forward; there was logic to what he was doing. We didn't need Dawkins; we had a shooting guard."

That 1986 draft when Krause selected Sellers over Jordan favorite Dawkins only continued what became an ongoing clash. Guess whose side the fans and media took?

"The thing I look for is I like to know the thought process," said Reinsdorf. "His thought process was logical and then we got Doug and we immediately got even better. Hiring Doug was right and we won two rounds in the playoffs and Doug's successful and Jerry says we have to make a change. Now there's going to be real firestorm.

"But another of his great skills was not worrying about what anyone else thought," said Reinsdorf. "He was not afraid to make a move that was unpopular either with his own players or the media if it was best for the team and moving forward. He got here despite the abuse, the criticism, the doubts."

Perhaps in some respects because of it. Krause was also a man of character, competitiveness and intellectual expansion. He knew what he wanted, but he also wasn't afraid to go beyond and learn. The Bulls of the 1990s certainly defined the passion of Michael Jordan. But they also were much the product of Jerry Krause, a second threepeat of championships that included only two of the same players from the first three championships. No team ever has done that. And in such a short time.

"Jerry's not here to enjoy this himself," acknowledged Reinsdorf on heading to Springfield. "But he always said he wanted his grandchildren to have the pleasure of seeing him inducted into the Hall of Fame and they will. He always said how much it would mean for his grandchildren, that they'd know he'd been a factor in the game. He very much wanted to get into the Hall of Fame, but for his grandchildren to remember him as a Hall of Famer."

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Jerry Reinsdorf on “The Sleuth”, Jerry Krause

Jerry Krause on a gorgeous late summer day, the shuffling clouds parting for bright blue skies, really was smiling down on his wife, Thelma, and the Basketball Hall of Fame Class of 2017 Thursday as the inductees were presented their emblematic blazers on the eve of the official enshrinement at the Hall of Fame in Springfield, Mass.

"One of the first things I saw was his picture," Thelma Krause said about entering for the Naismith Hall of Fame for a press conference and gathering of the new class. "He smiled at me, so hopefully he does know. I'd like to think he does. He would be thrilled and honored and so happy his children and grandchildren were here to participate; he loved sports, he loved scouting and being part of organizations.

"I am so honored for him," Thelma said. "I know how much this would mean for him."

It was a joyful, yet bittersweet day for Thelma and the Krause family as Jerry, the Bulls general manager who oversaw six championships in the 1990s as part of a long executive career in basketball, received the ultimate basketball honor. But he was not there to celebrate since he passed away, actually just shortly before the announcement.

"I would have preferred at least he knew about it," said Thelma. "I think that's the saddest thing; not that he isn't here, which is sad in of itself, but the fact it was just a couple of weeks difference for when he passed away and the announcement was made."

Though it doesn't diminish the honor or the feeling of pride for his family.

"If the family wasn't here it wouldn't have the same meaning," said Thelma. "That helped me get through it. They were in the audience and I could look at them and it would have meant everything to Jerry, too."

Though it was the job first, and because it was and it was such a passion, the honor was perhaps inevitable.

"His accomplishments," Thelma said when asked about the sources of professional pride for Jerry. "The fact he really loved what he did and had the ability to do it and that he just was able to because of Jerry Reinsdorf; to do the job he knew how to do. It's fabulous he was able to be accomplished in both sports (with baseball scouting for multiple teams). He worked hard and got results. He knew his job and when he was allowed to do it he did it well; the results speak for themselves.

"He would say, 'I never worked a day in my life,'" recalled Thelma.  "He was a kid in candy store."

Though Thelma acknowledged sometimes even Jerry admitted he stayed too long.

"He lived it," she said about Krause's legendary manic work ethic. "There was little separation. He admitted in his later years that he had his priorities wrong, that he gave far too much to whatever job he was doing, that he did not prioritize his family the way he later came to recognize he would have wanted to. I think what bothered him (overall) was the misperception, the willingness of people to never believe him and believe the other people who were more popular."

Still, Thelma didn't hesitate when asked of what Jerry was most proud.

"Giving Stacy away at her wedding," she said. "That's the most proud."

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Thelma Krause accepts Hall of Fame jacket on behalf of her late husband, Jerry Krause

We are not a society on first glance that would celebrate Jerry Krause. Though we, fortunately, take additional looks, which is one reason why Krause Friday will be enshrined in the Naismith Basketball Hall of Fame Class of 2017.

We are quick to admire and glorify appearance, slow often to recognize and understand the traits and subtly of excellence. That's because it comes often in unusual packages, sometimes in a rumpled raincoat and perhaps even with a few crumbs on the tie. But the results can be very appetizing.

Krause, the former Bulls general manager who presided over six NBA championship teams, was an unusually private man in an exceptionally public world, professional sports. It's not a classic mix.

But perhaps because Krause never looked the part of a corporate sports executive, he was able to do his job even better. Because in some respects maybe he understood that there was more to a player than how he looked. The men who worked most closely with him, his top assistants, understood.

"Jerry scouted tools," said Jim Stack, one of Krause's chief assistants during his 18-year run as Bulls top basketball executive. "How athletic they were, long arms. He was looking for freak athletes and you saw Scottie Pippen and Horace Grant and Michael (Jordan). But another component was what kind of people they were. Were they a good teammate? What kind of competitor were they in the heat of the game? Did they shy away or step to the forefront? Jerry said there were a lot of ways to evaluate heart and drive and determination. Jerry always prided himself on being unconventional."

It's not always associated with exceptional, but it's often in the neighborhood.

"People like to say Jerry was ‘the Sleuth,'" notes Clarence Gaines Jr., another of Jerry's top acolytes who went on to work with Phil Jackson and the Knicks. "A better nickname for Jerry was ‘the Bulldog.' He latches onto something and he's persistent and is going to see it through and see his vision through. One of greatest attributes is persisting through peaks and valleys and being able to see the finish line. He went through a lot of trials and tribulations through his career that just made him tougher.

"It's the gift of failure, how failure enables people in the long term to have success, internalize and take the lessons that life teaches you," says Gaines. "Jerry had his struggles and his doubters. His first experience with the Bulls didn't last long. He had to go out the door with his tail between his legs. But all those experiences kind of made him."

Perhaps he was more like Michael Jordan than either would like to or be willing to admit, mutual stubbornness inciting an inevitable rivalry. Jordan, though, did famously say one big reason he succeeded was how often he failed.

"Jerry was the classic underdog," says Gaines. "He always was doubted, a guy who never really looked the part. But in the end he was the part."

Those closest to Krause always will say how he was more scout than executive, loving the chase, the mystery, finding that rare gem. Sort of like Jerry Krause, himself.

So it was less coincidence than providence that Krause would latch onto Pippen, a small college kid who entered college on a work study program, seek out Toni Kukoc overseas when it wasn't so fashionable, champion players like Robert Parish and Clifford Ray, two that Krause urged the Bulls to draft when he was a team executive in the 1970s. They found Ray; they rejected his Parish suggestion and selected Indiana U. star Scott May. Krause's objections were among the reasons he soon was gone. May didn't last much longer for basketball reasons.

Krause didn't look or sound like he knew better; he just did.

"Jerry was always attracted to in some ways the underdog," said Gaines. "He never neglected any aspect of any level of basketball. My father was a small college coach (Clarence "Big House" Gaines at Winston Salem State). Look at the Knicks with Willis Reed, small college, Dick Barnett; Walt Frazier played Division 2 basketball the same year Earl Monroe did, the same year my dad team won the national championship. Small college basketball was big, but not often recognized. Jerry kept on that. Jerry would leave no stone unturned as far as scouting, but I also think that goes back to the underdog mentality. He was always looking for that diamond in the rough. Look at the Bulls draft of Scottie Pippen; had to be the ultimate draft pick for Jerry Krause, guy a late bloomer coming out of an NAIA school. He was no secret by the time he got him, but Jerry recognized that talent early.

"Jerry was a complex man; we all are. He wasn't always comfortable in his skin; little stuff bothered him, things people wrote about him," Gaines acknowledged. "But he was confident and comfortable in his view of talent, not only basketball, but coaching and administrative talent. Look at the coaches he had the foresight to bring in. He appreciated bright and intelligent people around him who would question and challenge him.

"Jerry wasn't always one to listen," Gaines added with a laugh. "I'm no shrinking violet. We had our battles; but he paid me to offer an opinion. Jerry would say if there are two people in the organization who think alike, one of them doesn't have to be there. He was looking for people with their own ideas and thought processes and I'd say the people I was surrounded with in that organization were bright, brilliant people who were confident in themselves and voiced their own opinions and you have to give Jerry a lot of credit for surrounding himself with people like that." '

Jerry Krause wasn't winning many media favorite contests given his penchant for secrecy and misdirection. Nor was anyone against the unrivaled Michael Jordan. But that became part of the job for Krause, the ultimate sacrifice of popularity for progress. Krause, as many do, especially in that kind of environment where the players are credited with the success and the management with the failure, often felt overlooked, underestimated and unappreciated, driven by a seemingly angry confidence, an intense work ethic and perhaps a relentless desire to show people, to prove not only that he belongs but he's better than you are.

Better even than Michael Jordan; OK, maybe just smarter, or better at his job.

"Say what you want to say about Jerry, Jerry was a fighter," said B.J. Armstrong, the former Bulls who was Krause's top aide during the conclusion of Krause's run. "He drafted toughness. Probably driven by what he went through and the way he lived. It was a reflection of that toughness he felt was needed in a team."

The most enduring example of that might have been the Walter Davis Affair.

It was when the Bulls were improving, but not quickly enough for Jordan's liking. Jordan after Pippen's migraine headache fiasco in the 1990 conference finals and Grant's inconsistency against the Detroit Pistons' brutes was having his doubts the Bulls had enough to be a championship team. Jordan began openly lobbying for the team to acquire former North Carolina star Davis, still an 18-point scorer with the Phoenix Suns. It would only seemingly get worse for Krause when the favored Portland Trailblazers in January 1991 acquired Davis in trade.

"Michael railed so hard to get Walter Davis because he felt we needed another scorer because Scottie wasn't a consistent scorer," remembered Stack. "So Jerry sent me out to watch Walter Davis. But Walter couldn't guard anybody and we needed to get through the Eastern Conference with tough three men, Larry Nance, Mark Aguirre, Xavier McDaniel, all big, physical guys. We had signed Cliff Levingston, but Phil wasn't playing him. So then Portland the powerhouse in the West ends up trading for Walter Davis."

It was a brutal time for Krause in what would become the Bulls first championship season. The Bulls recently had lost badly in Detroit and now the team with the league's best record adds Walter Davis, Jordan's desire. Jordan, unsurprisingly, wasn't quiet about that. The Bulls would finally beat the Pistons in Auburn Hills in February, though Isiah Thomas was out injured. Then the Bulls began their post-All Star game run which continued through the playoffs.

Ironically, though perhaps fittingly for Krause, albeit mostly unnoticed, Davis would prove instrumental for the Bulls. Though as a ‘Blazer.

"One thing that always struck me with Jerry was his dogged determination," said Stack. "He had this motto of patience plus perseverance equals success. I was out at that (Western Conference finals) series when the Lakers were playing Portland. Portland got up early in Game 1 in Portland and (coach Rick) Adelman put Davis in and (James) Worthy drives by him again and again and L.A. got momentum and the whole tide of that series shifted. The Lakers won Game 1 in Portland (after trailing by 12 after three quarters) and won in six games in L.A. We took so much heat for not trading for Walter Davis and then when Portland got him it got even more elevated. And the funny thing is Walter played for Portland and was horrible and the Lakers stole the game and ended up winning the series.

"The heat was in the kitchen during that time for us," Stack admits. "Phil was close with Michael; it was divided internally. Maybe our jobs would have been on the line if we were beaten. But the unique thing about Jerry was he wasn't afraid to stick to his guns if he felt he was doing the right thing; he trusted his instincts."

We marvel now at the excellence of the Golden State Warriors, though their roots, their philosophy, comes as much from Jerry Krause as it does Steve Kerr, whom Krause signed for the Bulls when his NBA career seemed over.

"Jerry always thought the game should be played positionless," says Armstrong. "He didn't so much say it, but even in his era he felt the fundamental base was important, that everyone should be able to make the pass to the post. Who says a center can't make the pass into the post? Michael Jordan, effectively, was a post player and you saw with the championship teams players able to do multiple things. Everyone should be able to pass to the post, play screen roll; that's why he embraced Tex's teachings so much. Because that's what Tex advocated. Everyone should be able to defend multiple positions.

"Something I picked up with Jerry was the demand for length and toughness in players and the heavy emphasis on the timeless fundamentals of the game," added Armstrong, now a top executive with Wasserman Media Group. "Call it positionless, but Jerry was into drafting guys with a heavy fundamental base because the fundaments of the game never change. If you have that you can play in any era."

Yes, you can know the game without playing. You can even know more than those who played. Jerry Krause often demonstrated that even as it fit no one's narrative. It remained a driving force.

"You are in a lot of ways defined by your childhood," said Gaines. "It doesn't mean you cannot overcome it, but you have to understand how was a kid raised, how was he influenced. Jerry was always a proponent of interviewing players for that reason. He had to get to know a player."

Few escape those adolescent influences, and they would remain a motivating force personally for Krause as well; similarly those myriad disappointments, detours and defeats along the way.

"With the Bulls in the mid 70s it didn't work out and he always vowed if he ever got the opportunity again he'd leave no stone unturned in terms of evaluating everything," Stack said. "Information was at a premium pre-internet and we were always digging around. I went on a lot of wild goose chases. But Jerry always said we are going to outwork people, make sure we follow every lead. That led to a player like Scott Williams. We got him as an undrafted player; had shoulder issues. Scott was a little wild, but he was a valuable player for us when we won that first championship. With Toni in the 1990 draft I had played against Toni as a real young kid."

That also was another element of Krause's information complex. Just as Krause asked Phil Jackson to prepare scouting reports of the CBA for him, Krause did the same with Stack when he was playing in Europe for five years after playing at Northwestern. It was what led to players like Charles Oakley from little Virginia Union. Krause had gotten the tip from Big House Gaines.

"When you look at Jerry the perception people had of him they might think curmudgeon, a question of social skills," said Gaines. "But he had a network of people in basketball he had developed relationships with over time. My father was one. Think of Tex Winter. The first move Jerry made when he came to the Bulls was to call two people, Tex Winter and Al Vermeil. And that was pretty forward thinking. I don't think a lot of organizations had their own strength and conditioning coach and a coach of coaches. Now everyone does. It was one of the most positive attributes about Jerry, that he had a plan. And he implemented that plan and vision."

Perhaps unconventionally, but history also is replete with those doubted because they were idiosyncratic; sounding, looking, acting.

"He'd do it differently," said Stack. "We were in gyms sometimes the only NBA people there. He was going to look under that rock that no other GM would want to look under. We'd interview guys and I'd say ‘Jerry we're never going to draft this kid. Why are we spending an hour, hour and a half?' He always had some other reason. He'd say, ‘I want to get insight from him on another kid I'm interested in.' He always had an angle for why he did things. There was never wasted time. He'd say, ‘No, Jimmy. There's always something to be gleaned from time spent with someone.' Was Jerry West doing that? No, probably not, but Jerry took pride in doing those unconventional things no one else would do.

"At his core, he always believed himself to be a scout more than a general manager," said Stack. "He loved being out there with the action, being in the middle and evaluating. But as general manager, he did a great job accumulating assets. We always believed you build your core through the draft and get over the top through free agency. So he was always cognizant of what he called the vigorish (a Yiddish word roughly defining the house's take in gambling). He'd say, ‘Jimmy, got to get the vig.' Chips you can use in trade, an extra second round pick. Throw this in and close the deal. Lots of times those are the chips that get a trade over the top.

"The doggedness of Jerry was always there," said Stack. "He'd call me at all hours of the day and night and I'd be like, ‘Jerry turn it off.' But he just was relentless. He'd have a plan and this is how we were going to try to get where we need to go. We added Luc Longley and Steve Kerr and Toni came over, Ron Harper. That 1993-94 team, I don't know if we would have lost any games if Michael hadn't retired. The system we played was all interchangeable playmaking, interchangeable parts, multiple ball handlers. In Phil, he saw a young Red Holzman with the defense and team play. Jerry was ahead of his time. Teams were winning titles with the big man. We had Michael and were blessed to have him, but we were doing it more like Golden State is now with the perimeter guys, the three-headed monster at the center spot. Jerry was an innovator."

Krause was among the elite; it will say so in the most beautiful basketball place.

"The Hall of Fame," said Stack, "would mean everything, to be recognized after all he'd been through."

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Jerry Krause: By Those Who Knew Him Best

Phil Jackson knows statistics. He's first in NBA coaching history in playoff wins and championships. He's best in playoff and regular season winning percentage for those coaching more than five seasons.

Thanks in large part to Jerry Krause, Jackson understands, because Jackson was about to become a labor statistic in 1987. Jackson applied for unemployment, out of coaching, out of work, considering a return to school, perhaps private business. He wasn't sure anymore.

Hopes and expectations had become an anchor for his nascent coaching career. Jerry Krause threw him the lifesaver that buoyed a special cruise through the NBA record books.

Krause knew. After all, typical of the late Bulls general manager, Krause had been taking notes on Jackson for the previous 20 years.

That intense study and innate willingness to think and act creatively were premier characteristics of Krause that led, inevitably, to enshrinement in the Naismith Basketball Hall of Fame.

Krause, who died March 21, will be enshrined posthumously Friday in the Class of 2017, which includes Tracy McGrady, George McGinnis, Bill Self, Muffet McGraw and Rebecca Lobo.

Krause's legacy, in addition to six championships with the Bulls in the 1990s, was the hiring of coaches who went on to legendary careers, including Jackson, Doug Collins and Tex Winter.

Krause renewed Winter's stalled college coaching career and Winter went on to be honored by the Hall of Fame for his influence with the triple post offense. Collins went on to be a premier NBA coach and honored by the Hall of Fame's media wing. The Bulls under Krause had arguably the most accomplished coaching staff in NBA history with Jackson, Winter and Johnny Bach, the latter an NBA player, head coach, assistant, college coach and defensive guru.

Perhaps it was Krause's nature as a nonconformist and maverick that drew him to the man who wrote the book, Maverick.

"Jerry did not want you to think like the herd, which was probably why I got the job," Jackson acknowledged in an interview about Krause's enshrinement. "He was an outlier and he knew that. He like outliers in that regard."

The son of missionaries with arms so long he seemingly could reach the big sky was Krause's kind of guy. Phil did things his way and somewhat anonymously. And he also had the mind of a calculator, all traits Krause admired and would eventually lead Jackson to the Bulls and six championships.

"Jerry saw me play at the U of North Dakota," Jackson recalled. "We had a team ranked second in the country in the college division a couple of seasons. We played DePaul and Loyola in Chicago and then Loyola agreed to come out to play us in North Dakota. He was working for the Baltimore Bullets at the time (after starting his scouting career with the Chicago Zephyrs before their trip east). I had a big game, made like 19 of 20 free throws and had 39 points or something like that and we beat Loyola and they had been the champs a few years before.

"Bill Fitch was my coach and he was a young 35-year-old guy and Jerry was probably 27," Jackson recalled. "After the game, Jerry wanted to meet me, which is something you couldn't do in this day and age. So Bill Fitch had him in a car in the parking lot and I got in the car and Bill says, ‘Jerry, this kid can change the radio station from the back seat.'"

Krause sat up. He didn't need someone to change the radio stations. But one of his principal scouting tenets was length. Can't teach it. At a disadvantage without it. Always looking for it.

"Then the Bullets invited me and my roommate, who was a third team all-American, to fly to Baltimore and we ended up playing against Bob Ferry and Gene Shue, the coach and assistant coach; played two on two and hung around with the Bullets people and ultimately they didn't draft me," said Jackson, who was picked in the second round, then No. 17, by the New York Knicks. "They had plenty of forwards with Jack Marin, Gus Johnson. They picked Earl Monroe No. 2 and picked a guard (Jimmy Jones) who went to the ABA. But every sequential year after that when Jerry was in Chicago we always saw eachother. He always made a point of coming over and saying hi and talking, saying, ‘I wish we would have drafted you.' Or whatever. Some kind of comment, but always a good conversation. One thing about Jerry: If he liked you and you responded with genuine warmth, you were his friend.

"Jerry stayed in touch and he found out where I was and I was in the CBA," said Jackson. "He hadn't been hired yet by the Chicago Bulls, but he got a hold of me in the process of trying to find out who was a talent (in the CBA). He was in baseball; he'd been out of basketball a few years since the debacle with Ed Badger and Ray Meyer and how it all went down in Chicago. I think he was general manager for something like four months and out. So I did a list of CBA players for him, maybe 90 or 100 players on the Apple program, setting up height and weight, college, attributes, scouting. I sent him this file. He had asked me to do it and he was impressed with it."

That was another custom of Krause's in what was a research career that would make Library of Congress archivists proud. Krause would often ask acquaintances on the fringes of the game, in the minor leagues, overseas, in the small colleges, to compile dossiers for him, to tap their knowledge of where the herd wasn't grazing. It would be no coincidence that Krause would be famous for identifying players from these small colleges, like Scottie Pippen and long before Clifford Ray and Robert Parish.

"Jerry was a big phone guy and he'd call me a number of times," Jackson related. "I'd had a couple of interviews with NBA teams, I think, as a courtesy. Nothing came of it; then it kind of fell off. Jerry picked Stan Albeck his first coach and he asked would I fly up from Puerto Rico (coaching summer league) and that story had been told (Jackson with his beard and oversized Panama hat unappealing to the conservative Albeck). He chose someone else to be assistant coach. I think John Killilea was Stan's choice, but that was someone who hadn't treated Jerry well and Jerry wouldn't have any part of him (Mike Thibault was kept as a holdover and Gene Littles was added). The subsequent year Stan was fired and I thought maybe that was my opportunity. But Doug was chosen, someone local with a lot of enthusiasm. I thought I was ready to be a head coach. I'd actually quit the CBA. I had two interviews, one with Al Bianchi in New York and Rick Pitino and waited all summer for a decision and it never happened."

It looked like Jackson's basketball road had reached the end of the cliff.

"We went back from Montana to Woodstock and (wife) June had a job in a hospice," said Jackson. "I went to the unemployment office. Then I got a call from Jerry in late September, right after my birthday, the 17th . Gene Littles came in and asked to resign to take a job with the Charlotte Hornets, who were just setting up their franchise. Jerry called me and had a few other guys in to interview. He asked me to cut my beard, which I didn't the time before, look the part, get a suit out and the whole bit. Bach and Tex were there, but in their 60s. So they were looking for someone to be out on the road to do the scouting and advance and the running around part; I fit.

"I was on the road a lot and then the one incident happened with Michael leaving practice (Jordan storming out of a 1987 preseason practice in a dispute with Collins)," Jackson recalled. "I was on the road a lot that season and then Jerry said, ‘I don't want you to be on the road anymore.' I spent the first three months that first year on the road and then I was with the team all the time."

But with Jackson having cracked his own glass ceiling toward respectability, there finally were possibilities with the NBA expanding. Krause would prove a prescient guide for the 32-year-old rookie coach.

"Jerry kept encouraging me to be patient," Jackson said. He'd say, ‘There are better jobs than Minnesota, Charlotte, Orlando. Those are going to be expansion jobs and there are going to be coaches who coach there a couple of years and move on because you are not going to win.' Like Dick Harter went to Charlotte, Bill Musselman went to Minnesota. Those were experienced coaches looking for a job. He said I shouldn't be impatient if they didn't pick me. He was genuinely concerned."

Jackson knows Krause's influence was paramount in his success. And though they split at the end of Jackson's Bulls' tenure, Jackson said he had high regard for the way Krause did his job and it long remained an influence in Jackson's basketball life and success.

"Jerry was very good with the draft, kept everything very tight; very closed," Jackson noted, Krause infamous for his alter ego as "the Sleuth. "He was very concerned about leaks and discussions with other personnel, keeping everything in house. He'd say, ‘We know our players' warts; we know how they look and we want to get these chickens ready for plucking if we want to move them. We're going to fatten them up and we're going to make them look good.' I think there were four players kept from my first two years there, (John) Paxson, Jordan, (Scottie) Pippen and (Horace) Grant. We pretty much changed personnel to build those championship teams. He really filled out the roster and he made the trade for Bill Cartwright, which was a major change, I thought, a really good move. One of his strengths was taking a guy we inherited and being able to trade guys, bigger names like Sidney Green, Orlando Woolridge, to get players who fit."

Krause was secretive, perhaps to an abnormal extreme. But among the staff he was open and willing to encourage dialogue, suggesting a more confident and secure mien than many often believed. And he reveled in his iconoclastic methods.

"Jerry was ‘the Sleuth,' his moniker, his slouch hat and raincoat," said Jackson. "He kind of enjoyed that. Might not ask for a ticket. He'd buy a ticket and slide into a field house, maybe watch a practice, maybe have an agreement with a coach to watch practice, but not to be seen by the other scouts, unobtrusively sit in the stands, fill out his cards and make his notes. He had favorites; he fell in love with players. A lot he couldn't reach in the draft or to get. But I didn't see him make a lot of mistakes on guys he fell in love with.

"He was very enamored with the player's internal ability to compete and relied on that a lot as a determining factor," said Jackson. "There was a motto he had that skill is secondary to character; the character has to be there. The other thing he said was, ‘You don't change the spots on a leopard.' That was his thing, that you weren't going to change the personality of a player just because he came to your team and he's going to be all of a sudden different. He was willing to take a risk on Dennis Rodman, but that was because he saw the drive and the competitive nature of Dennis. It outweighed the other obstacles that would be thrown up by his personality. And we had a high character, driven team at that time. So that was something he was willing to do.

"He always kept notes," Jackson added, "these spiral notebooks. Conversations on the phone were jotted, noted. When you came in to talk about personnel, decisions to be made, he always had notes, very detailed in that regard. He'd come back and remember from the past. ‘Here's an interest from another ball club. Jerry didn't want the staff to listen to the opinions of the ‘experts.' He didn't want that mock draft, order of picks. He just wanted five guys at a position. ‘Do your research on them and come back and give up your information.' Post season, one of the things he did was he listened to everyone in the organization talk about the roster, the 12 players we had, had everyone speak and very rarely would the coach make a comment. He didn't want anyone be swayed by the coach and be a copycat."

Jackson took a one-season hiatus after leaving the Bulls in 1998, the breaking point a feud with Krause in which Krause announced Jackson's effective firing the first day of training camp in 1997. They didn't speak much afterward, but Jackson said he carried Krause's influences with him.

"I had to temper what to say when I was in LA," Jackson admitted. "I couldn't say, ‘The Bulls wouldn't do things this way.' The Lakers felt they knew how to do things even though they were 10 years behind Jerry. We had the cable system (Jerry) Reinsdorf put in at the Berto Center to tape all the games we wanted. We started using an internist as the doctor to process players' needs as a whole player and not just (a specialist). He used (Al) Vermeil in weight training. Our players were on offseason programs training. He bought into Al's belief it took 10 weeks or more for a player to build a base to work through during the course of a season. So offseason training was important. A day or two after we lost to Detroit (in 1990) there were 10 players working out as a unit. We had a psychologist available; all these things when I went to L.A. were not in place, video, medical, therapist, massage therapy. One season with all those four in five nights we had no injuries, one player all season on a 10-day contract. He was ahead of the curve I'd say by 10 years in a lot of the things we did for the whole person, a players' total being."

Jerry Krause the scout, the executive, the innovator. The Hall of Famer.

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Phil Jackson on Jerry Krause, A Master of Many Talents

It wasn’t quite up there with Potsdam, Yalta, the Missouri Compromise or Jefferson’s dinner with Hamilton that established the national economic structure and the District of Columbia. But that day in Jerry Reinsdorf’s office was perhaps the most consequential meeting in Chicago sports history.

Because that was the day longtime mostly baseball scout Jerry Krause persuaded the new managing partner of the Chicago Bulls that he was The Man with the Plan for the Chicago Bulls.

Six years later the Bulls began the greatest dynasty in Chicago sports history, one that was responsible for six members to the Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame, Michael Jordan, Scottie Pippen, Dennis Rodman, Phil Jackson, Tex Winter and Reinsdorf.

And how there is the seventh, Jerry Krause.

Krause’s selection for the Hall of Fame was announced Saturday at the Final Four in Phoenix. He will be enshrined posthumously in Springfield, Mass., the birthplace of basketball, September 8.

Krause died March 21 at 77 after a long illness.

“It’s bittersweet because on the one hand I am really happy for Jerry’s family and it’s going to be a great thing for his children,” Reinsdorf said. “But I wish it would have happened when he was alive so he could have enjoyed it.

“It would have meant a lot,” said Reinsdorf. “It would have been, for him, a validation of his work. He had a lot of critics while he was active, like many general managers, and while he would have liked people to think it didn’t bother him, it did. That’s just human. Jerry was very human. Had he lived to see this he would have felt validated in that his work was being recognized. That meant so much to him.

“But not just for himself,” said Reinsdorf, who was perhaps closest to Krause in working together directing the Bulls for 18 years. “While he is getting in for what he did as an executive, a large part of what an NBA general manager does is scouting. Krause always considered himself a scout at heart, identified with scouts. I think he would have looked at it as a symbolic recognition of the little guy who stays in the background, not corporate, not famous, not with the fancy suit or the fancy words, but without whom the team wouldn’t have the right players.

“He talked a lot about how scouts were not properly recognized, the fact the baseball Hall of Fame doesn’t recognize scouts and how unfair that is,” said Reinsdorf. “He would have been beaming, so proud.”

Krause’s contributions to basketball, the Bulls and Chicago are the stuff of legend, taking over one of the most underperforming teams of the previous decade, slowly, methodically, like a scout, chipping away a piece here and a piece there and then building it back up to where it was a near invincible skyscraper of a franchise.

Then Jordan went away and no one, certainly not Reinsdorf or Krause, believed he was going to be back. Krause began assembling the pieces once again, almost an entire new team to greet Jordan upon his return. And then winning three more titles with that group. Not quite the same Jordan physically, either, but certainly in a similarly dominating style. Not exactly the same way, as little could be with Dennis Rodman. But the staff Krause assembled, perhaps the greatest and most knowledgeable in basketball history, remained to be the backbone of the next championship iteration.

Not much of that team reflected the reticent scout, a traveling sports party never before imagined or likely to be seen again. So, of course, there were built in and inevitable rivalries and disputes. Krause endured it all as the wizard behind the curtain. You don’t always get the renown for pulling the strings, but it’s necessary.
“We inherited Michael Jordan, which many held against Jerry, but not a lot else,” Reinsdorf pointed out. “We had good guys, but not a team. I don’t believe there was anyone from that first team when he took over who was on the championship team and then just Jordan and Pippen the only ones on the second three-peat team who were on the first three-peat team. He really built two completely different three-peat teams. Think of that.

“Jerry also recognized you had to make some changes every year even if you won a championship,” said Reinsdorf. “You had to keep fresh, keep moving forward, never be satisfied and sit back or you would fall back. He was always working. That was Jerry.

“Not every decision he made was perfect, but he had so many good ones,” recalled Reinsdorf. “Look at someone like Brian Williams in 1997, so many like that, a key guy here and there paying big dividends at important times in the playoffs, the Finals, players let go elsewhere who could delicately fit in. It’s really a unique art to have that eye for the whole. It wasn’t easy, which anyone who tried knows. But in taking time to build we were generating community interest and making progress every year. The shot on (Craig) Ehlo (to beat Cleveland in 1989). Then we go to beat New York the next round, lost to Detroit in six, then seven the next year; there was progress, always progress. He knew we had something in Scottie and Horace, young thoroughbreds; it was getting better and the final piece was Bill Cartwright. The criticism and disappointments just made Jerry want to try harder. He never gave up; he was relentless. He never stopped trying and then in Jordan’s seventh season it happened and then what a run.”

Yet, it was all so unlikely, Krause the voluble baseball scout Reinsdorf would see in meetings, always ad advocate of someone, but just another guy brought in by Bill Veeck whom he’d inherited. He’d ask Roland Hemond who the guy was. Then Reinsdorf would put together a group to purchase the Bulls after a fortuitous dinner with one of the Bulls’ owners, baseball’s George Steinbrenner. Perhaps some synergy with two teams, Reinsdorf figured as well. Reinsdorf didn’t know anyone in the NBA, but he knew a little bit about the basketball he liked to watch. But not how to go about producing it in a market known as a graveyard for pro basketball.

Hey, Krause, thought, I can do this. So Krause called Reinsdorf. That most fateful meeting was planned.

“Had he not come and asked for the job I never would have thought of him,” Reinsdorf admits. “I don’t want to imagine what would or could have happened. He came and asked for a meeting and said he wanted to be the general manager of the Bulls. I had just bought the team. I knew I needed to make a change. It had to be a break with the old. I knew what I wanted: Red Holzman basketball. I had no idea where to go for it. I really didn’t take him very seriously. Just as a matter of courtesy I asked him his credentials.

“I didn’t remember him running the Bulls,” said Reinsdorf about Krause’s short lived tenure as personal director of the mid-1970s. “I never knew the Ray Meyer story (about how Krause was set up to recruit Meyer to coach the Bulls and lost his job over it). I didn’t know about the Zephyrs and all the other professional NBA) teams he was with (as a scout). He told me. I said, ‘OK, go on what are you going to do?’

“So he starts telling me he wants to build around defense and he wants to bring in this guy, Tex Winter, who I never heard of. He explained to me Tex’s offense, which was the kind of thing that was on my mind. I’m not a basketball expert,” Reinsdorf acknowledged. “So I couldn’t quite explain it myself. But it’s one of those things you know it when you hear it. The triangle is just one of a number of offenses that involve movement of the ball and off the ball. Then he talked about defense and had this guy Johnny Bach he wanted to bring in.
I thought to myself, ‘He’s talking about everything that I believe in. I’ll give him a shot.’”

So Krause began to dismantle the building so he could replace it, stronger, better, brighter. One of the principal foundations Krause understood, that is so overlooked and especially today, Reinsdorf says, is the value of teachers. It’s why Winter was first on the list and soon Bach.

“There’s no question these were career teachers,” said Reinsdorf. “They had been head coaches, but most of their lives were teaching, and it’s something Jerry understood and recognized because he also was a student of the game and always believed in learning, that there was more to learn every day. It was an incredible thing we had. It’s unfortunate that it’s hard today to find teachers like Tex and Johnny who just want to teach. It’s like in baseball. You emphasize fundaments; you have to understand fundamentals.

“I remember Michael always saying the games are easy, that the practices are hard and that’s the way it was with the Bulls, with North Carolina,” said Reinsdorf. “You practice hard, focus on fundamentals, the right things to do and then when you play the game it’s easy; you just use your muscle memory from practice. Michael was probably the best practice player of all time. Michael could never please Tex; or at least Tex would never let Michael know he would please him, which was another of the strengths we had with veteran teachers like that. Jerry understood and they were his true connections with the players.

“There was Jerry’s ability to evaluate talent and his ability to evaluate coaches, Phil Jackson, Doug Collins, guys no one recognized who went on to become elite in the field,” Reinsdorf pointed out. “Jerry also had this great ability to absorb. He’d seek out people who knew more than he did and he was like a sponge; a lot of these guys he idolized, like Clarence “Big House” Gaines, Slick Leonard, Dean Smith, Red Auerbach. He never thought he knew it all. He always was looking to learn from people he felt knew more than he did.

“Then he wanted to pass it on to younger people,” noted Reinsdorf. “John Paxson tells the story of after Krause left and John took over how Krause tried to help him. Here was the guy taking his job. Matt Lloyd (now assistant general manager in Orlando) spent countless hours with Jerry even after he left the Bulls.”