Remember the time Dwight Howard shimmied on the stage during All-Star player introductions and then Derrick Rose took the stage stoically and impassively, looking like he was at the dentist's office?
Some fans lauded him for his serious approach and professionalism.
Remember the time Rose banked home a game-winning jumper to defeat LeBron James' Cavaliers in the 2015 playoffs and Rose reacted with the same look while the United Center danced in delirium?
Some fans criticized him for not celebrating enough.
Remember when Rose refused to give up on unheralded shooting guard Keith Bogans _ "I'm rolling with Keith," he memorably said _ as the Bulls quietly negotiated behind the scenes with free agent Richard Hamilton?
Some fans lauded him for being a good teammate.
Remember when Rose tepidly participated in the 2014 recruitment of Carmelo Anthony, talking to the All-Star for 10 minutes and then not showing up for a dinner that the team wanted him to attend?
Some fans _ and organization members _ accused him of being selfish.
I once told Rose that I liked watching him play but didn't like covering him. He laughed.
That's one side of Rose not everyone got to see and he showed with less frequency after his first knee injury _ the relaxed, open side that his same friends since grammar school say is truly him.
As Rose's eight-season run in his hometown closed with his stunning trade to the Knicks, one thought kept resonating: He didn't change as much as we did.
Rose may have appeared to be the quiet, stoic one in the corner. But he was an All-Star observer of people and situations, comfortable enough in his own skin to do what he or his confidantes thought was best, even if the decision went against the grain.
It's why he still believes he's one of the best players in the league, even if three knee injuries and surgeries and rehabilitations have left him in the minority.
It's why he decided to sit out the 2012-13 season entirely despite team officials and physicians telling him game action would be the next step for his rehabilitation process if he felt mentally and physically ready.
It's why Rose consistently doubled down when asked to explain clumsy comments that led many to question his passion for the game, such as taking a long-term approach to his career after his athletic mortality flashed before his eyes.
The same pride and determination and defiance that helped elevate him from Chicago's Englewood neighborhood to fame and fortune fueled those moments as well. And it's impossible to understand the civic pride Rose created for so long without being aware of from where he came.
Chicago long has embraced workers, those who overcome long odds. This city appreciates toughness and selflessness perhaps more than greatness.
Beyond helping elevate the Bulls to the national stage for the first time since Michael Jordan left, his breathtaking highlights on the court and quiet, humble nature off it served as a symbol of pride throughout the city. When he tearfully thanked his mother, Brenda, during his 2011 speech as he became the NBA's youngest most valuable player, he was held up as all that's right with sports.
Rose never loved attention. But his play created a lot of it. So did his injuries.
Everything changed when he tore his left ACL on April 28, 2012. The too-good-to-be-true story featured its first plot twist. And when he didn't play late in the 2012-13 season, some people turned against Rose for the first time.
This stung him more than he ever let on publicly.
Still, even as he twice fought his way back from surgery to repair a torn right meniscus, delivering a seventh championship to his hometown drove him. But don't listen to us.
Listen to savvy veteran Nazr Mohammed, a fellow Chicagoan, who told the Tribune this in November 2014.
"From Day One since I got here, even when he was hurt, he talked all the time about what winning a championship for Chicago would mean," Mohammed said. "He talks about how it would feel, being a guy from Chicago, to raise another banner here. People should know this.
"He wouldn't talk to (reporters) the same way, but trust me: That's his main goal and desire and what drives him. He's a Chicago guy through and through."
Three knee injuries and surgeries and rehabilitations have clouded some people's memory of just how explosive and dynamic Rose's first four seasons truly were. He played with reckless abandon. He twisted and torqued and tantalized.
When Rose dunked over then-Suns guard Goran Dragic in January 2010, he sent kids and adults and broadcaster Stacey King into spasms of delight.
But like the descent from that dunk, nothing lasts forever. And maybe the signs were there all along; after all, the Bulls overcame 1.7 percent odds in the May 2008 draft lottery to win the right to draft Rose first overall.
From June 2008 to April 2012, Rose's Bulls career was a fairy tale. From April 2012 to June 2016, it was a taffy pull.
Both sides spent so many seasons trying to make it work. The process had become wearying for all. On Friday in New York, Rose actually thanked the Bulls for trading him. He looked and sounded like someone whose burden had been lifted.
But Rose also made clear part of him always will remain in Chicago, where it all began, where the memories always will be.
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