An Impossible Talent

Impossible.



No rookie point guard can be this good, this soon. Not unless your name is Chris Paul or you are actually an undercover superhero with inhuman reflexes, athleticism, and poise. Check his birth certificate. It definitely says Derrick Rose, so the first option is ruled out. But that second option, well that might just be a reality. Watching the 20 year old phenom play with a LeBron-like combination of speed and power, you almost expect him to unzip his skin and reveal his true identity: the long lost son of The Flash and Wonderwoman.



Or maybe Derrick Rose is just that good. Maybe he is just something that the game of basketball has never seen before. Just maybe...



He's not MJ; but then again no one is. His Airness is the first, the last, the only. He was God's gift to the NBA, and someone like him will never walk the face of this planet again.



He's not Magic; the Laker great was a towering floor general with unmatched instincts and unbelievable basketball IQ. He knew where all four of his teammates were on the floor, where they had been, and mostly importantly, where they were going.



He's not LeBron; King James is a six foot eight freak of nature who plays like an unstoppable locomotive. Physically, he might be the best to ever step on a court.



But Rose is another breed as well. For a point guard, he is unusually big and strong; he stands six foot three and weighs almost 200 pounds. He is also a blur. Rose might just be the fastest, most explosive player this side of LeBron and Amare. The only difference is that those two players are massive forwards; they are supposed to rise up and posterize smaller opponents. But Rose is a point guard. And historically, point guards get the ball swatted into the tenth row when they try to take it all the way to the hoop.



But history can't stop Derrick Rose. Just for the record.



So far in his young career, Rose is averaging 19 points, 6 assists, and nearly 4 rebounds per game. And a handful of impossible plays; the thunderous jam over Leandro Barbosa; the high, arching shot he made during crunch time against the Jazz while he was contorting his body like Mr. Fantasic; the sick transition crossover he pulled against Mike Conley - who is supposed to be a great future point guard himself - and then finished with a graceful finger roll.



Impossible. Rookies don't do that kind of stuff. Rookies struggle with their new systems, they make mental errors, they defer to more experienced teammates, they make viewers scream at their televisions with anger more often then they make them jump out of their seats with excitement. Rookies take time, lots of time, before they can really make an impact. Apparently Rose missed the memo at Rookie Summer Camp. Or else he just didn't give a damn what other Rookies are supposed to do. Because so far this year, Rose hasn't struggled a bit. He has scored in double figure in all but one game, he has kept his composure under the most crucial of situations, he has taken over the Bulls offense late in games as if to say "Jump on my back boys, I'll carry you". And he has caused more jaws to drop than Maxim cover girl Megan Fox. What he is doing has rarely been equaled in a Rookie season.

Eight.

That's how many basketball players in the NBA have had a better Rookie season than Rose. That's how many players have recorded these holy numbers: 18, 5, 5. Eight. That's it.

Rose is already head and shoulders above his Rookie class. Now he is coming for the all-time greats. A little over 1 rebound per game seperates Rose from Wilt the Stilt, The Big O, LeBron, and that other guy who once wore the same Red and Black Bulls jersey that Rose wears now. Except his jeresy said "23" on it.

The legend of Derrick Rose has just begun, but you have to feel that when it is all said and done, his name will go down in Chicago lore right next to Jordan. With his impossible combination of power, speed, and mental toughness, Rose may end up being the greatest flower to ever blossom in the Windy City. To wonder how good this kid can really be, you only have to look as far as his jersey. Underneath the proud "Bulls" name that sprawls across the front lies the answer:

Number 1. Impossible? Better believe it.

(Bulls at San Antonio Spurs tonight. Post-game thoughts tomorrow.)