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Noah in Chicago: A tailored fit
by Jason Lieser
Palm Beach Post Staff Writer
October 14, 2007
DEERFIELD, Ill. — They're still talking about the suit.
More than three months after the Chicago Bulls selected him ninth overall, fans and reporters keep asking Joakim Noah about the beige seersucker suit and oversized gold bowtie he wore to the NBA Draft.
And that's the way he likes it.
"That was the funkiest suit of all time," Noah said matter-of-factly, as though reading from one of his University of Florida textbooks. "Who else in NBA history are they still talking about his suit four months later?" But the outfit is retired, a "classic one-and-done," as Noah put it. Truth is, he's ready for a break from the limelight.
Since arriving in Chicago, he has made several trips to Rush Street - Gibsons is his new favorite steakhouse - and was moved by a visit to Michigan Avenue's Freedom Museum, a tribute to First Amendment rights. But he opted to rent a house in quiet Deerfield, near the Bulls training facility and away from the buzz.
"Chicago's wild," Noah said. "Every time I get into the city, I don't come home until really late. The city can get a little crazy, but all that has to stop now."
Joakim Noah is learning about the NBA, trying to find his role on a young team that swept the Heat in the first round of the playoffs last spring. His rise to prominence in the college game began in earnest about 18 months ago, when the Gators surprised the nation by winning the 2006 NCAA title in Indianapolis.
Attention overload
Noah averaged 16.2 points, 9.5 rebounds and 4.8 blocks per game in that tournament and was voted the Final Four's Most Outstanding Player, launching a year in the spotlight he remembers as unwarranted and uncomfortable.
"When we went back to campus it was like, 'Noah, thanks for winning the national championship,''" he said. "That was really hard for me because I felt like our team was so balanced. My teammates never said it bothered them, but I think it did a little bit.
"We were on the middle of campus all the time, so it was really intense. I've had people cry in front of me. They come up like, 'You don't know what you've done. I named my son Noah.' "
With fame came scrutiny of his off-beat look and on-court histrionics.
"It was a confusing time for him," Gators coach Billy Donovan said. "In 2006 we win a national championship and ... people were like, 'Who is this guy with the ponytail? He's awesome.' It was all glowing reports.
"Then the same kid comes back and he's under a microscope. He was the same person and it was OK the year before, but now it's not. 'Why is he beating his chest? Why does he have long hair? Why is he always talking?' He was being questioned about who he was."
As the Gators cruised to a second consecutive national championship, Noah found the dark side of success.
"There were times my junior year when I felt like I didn't even like basketball anymore," he said. "Everybody started being so critical about everything. Even if I played well, it wasn't good enough. Who are you to tell me what's good and not good? We were winning.
"People make assumptions about you all the time. Then you're starting to get death threats. You go to gyms and people are talking about your family. When people really hate you, you see it in their face. Sometimes I let that affect me. I hated them back."
Last month, Noah sought the counsel of Boston Celtics legend Bill Russell, who spoke at an NBA conference for rookies in Rye Brook, N.Y. As the focal point of the dynasty that won 11 titles from 1956 through '69, Russell dealt with racism throughout his career. He advised Noah not to worry about factors he can't control.
"I was letting people take away the fun," Noah said. "You can't let that happen. I'm not going to change because of what somebody else says. I'm going to be who I am."
'Is he a little crazy?'
John Paxson, the Bulls' general manager, first saw Noah in 2005 and was impressed by his ability to defend, rebound and run the floor in transition.
Still, Paxson had a big question for Donovan before the draft this past June.
"John asked me, 'When you look at this figure from a distance - well, is he a little crazy and hard to manage?' " Donovan recalled.
Don't worry about his antics, Donovan told Paxson and his disciplinarian coach, Scott Skiles. Donovan told them he never had an easier player to coach.
Paxson denied questioning Noah's sanity.
"I don't think I ever used the word crazy," Paxson said, laughing. "My thought was that he's really into the game all the time and practices and situations. That's not a bad thing."
Paxson, who played for the first three Bulls championship teams and has spent 21 years as a player, coach or broadcaster with the club, said Noah is unlike anyone who has worn a Chicago uniform.
"Most of our guys are very quiet and very businesslike. But Joakim will probably speak up a few times this season, speak his mind, and we're OK with that," Paxson said.
"I've been with guys who chirp a lot, but do it in a way that's not really productive; it's kind of grating. He's not that way. He'll be vocal and talk, and that's his way of staying into things."
Noah grinned when he heard Paxson describe him as a unique personality, but was unsure if he should take it as a compliment.
"I'm going to be who I am, and if they didn't like that they wouldn't have drafted me," he said.
Taking shots
While Paxson and Skiles admire Noah's athleticism, they have concerns about his game, especially his jump shot, which guard Ben Gordon described as "funny."
After the team's first practice, Noah joined assistant coach Ron Adams, who has a reputation as a "shot doctor," to continue work on his unorthodox release. Noah, a right-handed shooter, tends to bring the ball up the left side of his body. His left hand then interferes with the release, spinning the ball sideways.
Adams strapped a paddle to Noah's left hand and had him take 8-foot jumpers for half an hour.
"A lot of coaches have tried different things, but that's definitely the most unique one," Noah said. "It feels a lot better. We've been working on it all summer and I'm feeling more confident."
The Gators' staff spent untold hours trying to retool his shot, but made little progress.
"We tried to correct some flaws, but he was uncomfortable," Donovan said.
The Bulls also want Noah to bulk up. At 6-foot-11, he is tall enough to play power forward or even center, but he weighs just 232 pounds.
"That will be the big key for Joakim early on, just getting in NBA shape," Skiles said. "He likes to bang bodies down there, but these are much bigger people than he's accustomed to. He's got such a relentless style, which we would never dream of trying to take away from him, but in a pro game, is he in good enough shape to do that?"
As he slams into NBA bodies, Noah must overcome the lingering effects of a torn rotator cuff he suffered in late February.
"I don't think it'll be 100 percent all year, but I'm cleared to play," Noah said. "I have a lot of other things to work on to see the court, but that's the main one right now."
Blending in, standing out
On draft night, Noah called the prospect of playing alongside Bulls center Ben Wallace "a dream."
Though Noah idolizes Wallace, they have few similarities other than their extreme hairstyles.
From Paxson's perspective, Wallace epitomizes the attitude of the team: workmanlike and quiet. The question is whether Noah's electric personality can blend with the blue-collar identity the Bulls forged while returning to prominence the last three seasons.
"I don't like guys with long hair," Wallace bristled, showing his trademark scowl before storming away.
Then he turned back and flashed a bright smile.
"I love 'em," he said.
Wallace wasn't in Deerfield during the summer, but players who were found Noah likable on and off the court.
"I love playing with him so far and I think the fans are going to love him," forward Luol Deng said. "A lot of players we have here, like myself, are hard workers, but normally you don't see me screaming or speaking out. He's a guy that's going to do that, and we need that."
As for the playing rotation, Noah spent his first practice running with first-teamers Wallace, Deng, Gordon and Kirk Hinrich, but Skiles quickly dismissed any significance to that lineup. Noah is merely expected to provide a spark off the bench, the way forward Tyrus Thomas did last season.
"I'm grateful I came to a team and an organization that didn't need me to be the savior," said Thomas, the No. 4 pick of last year's draft. "It's going to help my career that I came to a team that was established and had veteran guys to groom me. It'll help Joakim, too."
Donovan, however, worries that too much down time will spur Noah to overexert himself in practice.
"If he's not playing a lot, the first thing he's going to do is work hard to get on the floor," Donovan said. "If you tell him he has to make 17-foot jump shots to get on the floor, he's going to take that to an extreme and shoot 1,000 a day. Someone will have to pull him back."
But slowing down and fitting in have never been part of Noah's personality, and the Bulls say they want to let him flourish in his own style. They want his game to stand out every bit as much as the seersucker suit.