Jerry Krause is famously accused of saying players don’t win championships, organizations do.
Krause was ripped everywhere for what he allegedly said. Michael Jordan especially took issue with that quote, and understandably so.
You didn’t have to be Jordan to understand the dismissiveness of that statement.
If that actually was what Krause said.
But it wasn’t.
The quote dropped a word: alone. Players alone don’t win championships, organizations do. That’s what Krause said.
That’s also what Krause proved.
No, he didn’t draft Jordan. But he built everything else. Built it twice, in fact, and the franchise never would’ve won one title, not to mention six, without Krause.
Krause fired Doug Collins, an unpopular move, replacing him with Phil Jackson, a "who he" from Albany of the defunct Continental Basketball Association.
Krause already had Tex Winter on the bench next to Jackson to teach the triple-post offense, and he had John Bach next to them to create the “doberman" defense.
Krause drafted Olden Polynice and swapped him for Scottie Pippen.
Krause drafted Horace Grant. Krause drafted everyone else.
And when that wasn’t good enough, Krause traded Charles Oakley, Jordan’s muscle, for Bill Cartwright.
Earlier, he traded for John Paxson.
Phil Velasquez/Chicago Tribune
Chicago Bulls GM Jerry Krause makes his way from the United Center floor to Bulls locker room on May 6, 1998.
Chicago Bulls GM Jerry Krause makes his way from the United Center floor to Bulls locker room on May 6, 1998.
(Phil Velasquez/Chicago Tribune)
Jordan, Pippen, Grant, Cartwright and Paxson. That’s a famous photo. That’s the starting lineup for the first three-peat.
Krause did it amid ridiculous criticism. Squat and largely unsmiling, Krause was an easy target. He was called “Crumbs’’ behind his back for having doughnut residue on his clothes. It had to hurt.
It had to hurt someone who cared about winning the way Krause did. It had to hurt someone who was as relentless as Krause was pursuing it. It had to hurt when it continued even after the Bulls started winning titles.
That legacy, both glittering and uncomplimentary, screamed out upon hearing of Krause’s passing at 77 on Tuesday.
Someone who won six titles deserved better. Someone who was perhaps the greatest GM in Chicago history should’ve be celebrated more. The knee-jerk reaction shouldn’t be derision. He shouldn’t be a punchline.
In private moments, Krause reveled in his good fortune. A Chicago guy who was in charge of a Chicago team. He knew he was lucky. He wouldn’t miss his shot.
He loved his job to the point that he was mocked for his secrecy. “Sleuth,’’ he was called for his mysterious ways. It’s the way a man who was a scout at heart always acted.
And his gruff ways. He was often that way. He was what he was. It was driven largely by his loyalty to Chairman Reinsdorf and his job. He was giving away nothing that might hurt satisfying his boss and his mission. If that came off as gruff, then tough. Putting on a show was low on his priority list.
Winning was at the top of his priority list. Winning even with a Chicago enemy named Dennis Rodman.
It’s a shame Krause always looked unhappy. He had a lifetime of stories and he could tell them. When he wanted to. When he wanted to let people in.
I hope Krause found happiness by the end.
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