For the Bulls, the Middle Isn't a Phase Anymore

Michael Reinsdorf doesn’t need to intervene because the Bulls are failing loudly. He needs to intervene because they are failing quietly, predictably, and without consequence.

Six seasons in, the Chicago Bulls aren’t stuck in the middle by accident.

They’re there because no one above basketball operations has treated it as a failure.

Repetition isn’t intent. Repetition is failure — and under Artūras Karnišovas, the Bulls have repeated the same season often enough that it’s become organizational muscle memory.

Following the trade dealing on Thursday, Karnišovas told reporters, “Being in the middle is what we don’t want to do. I think we’ve seen that for the past four years and we want to change that.”

A year ago, after the trade deadline with the Bulls sitting at 24–27, he said nearly the same thing.

“We would take a step back, which we don't want. We want to stay competitive. We have an obligation to this city to compete for the playoffs.”

The quotes are separated by a year.

The standings are not.

Last season, after a late surge that brought the Bulls to a 15–5 finish, Karnišovas framed the push as proof of concept. 

“I would not put any limitations on this roster. Coby [White] and Josh [Giddey]…those players have a chance of playing at a very high level. We are constantly going to be looking for ways to improve.” 

Growth was implied. Momentum was celebrated. Yet the team finished 39–43 — again.

Heading into this season, the message barely changed.

Karnišovas again emphasized patience, growth, and “building while competing,” pointing to last year’s late surge as evidence that lessons had been learned. 

Months later, with middling results once again defining the standings, he said he wasn’t surprised by where the Bulls sit.

Strip away the messaging and the framing, and the ledger is blunt. Since Karnišovas took over basketball operations, the Bulls are 219–234. One winning season. One playoff appearance. One playoff win. 

If being ‘in the middle’ is unacceptable, the results suggest the Bulls have made it routine.

Karnišovas often returns to time, stages, and patience — but patience only counts when it produces new information or results.

Instead, the Bulls have cycled through:

• the same tier of competitiveness

• the same late-season rationalizations

• the same reluctance to force clarity

• the same draft positions that cap upside

Even this year’s pivot — finally acknowledging the need to step back — arrived after leverage had already eroded and the draft math had hardened. 

It wasn’t proactive. It was reactive.

Saying he wasn’t surprised by the Bulls’ position may have been honest. But honesty cuts both ways.

If the front office expected this outcome, last summer’s restraint wasn’t discipline — it was acceptance. 

And if this season’s results were foreseeable, the organization knowingly chose a path that led right back to the middle — the very place Karnišovas insists he wants to escape.

This is the point where the conversation can no longer live solely with the executive vice president of basketball operations. 

The messaging hasn’t evolved. Benchmarks remain vague. Outcomes remain familiar. 

Michael Reinsdorf doesn’t need to intervene because the Bulls are failing loudly. He needs to intervene because they are failing quietly, predictably, and without consequence.

That lack of consequence is reflected off the court.

Through 27 home games, the Bulls have drawn 526,301 fans — an average of 20,268 per contest — enough to signal stability, even if not excitement. The product hasn’t collapsed, and neither has engagement. The middle remains commercially survivable.

Karnišovas insists that being in the middle isn’t where the Bulls want to be.

The problem is that six seasons in, it’s still where they live — and the only thing that’s changed is how accustomed the organization has become to explaining why. 

At some point, the words stop signaling intent. They start documenting a pattern.