"He called teammates on the floor 'nine bitches'" - Scott Burrell recalls the practice where Michael Jordan went too far originally appeared on Basketball Network .
The Chicago Bulls dynasty of the 1990s remains one of the most dissected eras in sports history.
Not just because of the six championships, the global brand-building or the cultural revolution that came with Air Jordan, but because of the sheer volatility it took to keep that machine running.
Behind it all was a training ground thick with tension, pressure and the psychological warfare that forged legends or broke spirits. For Scott Burrell, a role-playing forward who joined the Bulls in the 1997-98 season, the pressure was embodied in one relentless figure. His teammate Michael Jordan .
During one particular practice, Burrell got a crash course in what it meant to be tested by Jordan in his purest, most unfiltered form. Whenever Burrell was caught lacking, the greatest basketball player in the world didn't waste time with silence. He immediately barked, calling his play "garbage" and telling him not to bring that kind of performance.
MJ wasn't simply demanding skill; he was demanding fight. And if the fight didn't show up, he'd provoke it no matter if it was Burrell or any other one in the roster.
"He called teammates on the floor at one point' nine bitches," Burrell said about MJ.
Burrell wasn't brought into the Bulls' roster to dominate headlines or score 20 points per night. He was a dependable, athletic swingman, coming off solid years in Charlotte, expected to add depth to an already stacked Chicago bench. But playing next to Jordan came with a different playbook that didn't necessarily reward passivity or deference.
While some players might have folded under that weight, Burrell processed it differently. He didn't walk off or complain to coaches.
Instead, he tried to see through the haze of Jordan's harshness. It was a snapshot of his version of team-building, a combustible blend of belittlement and challenge, equal parts hostility and expectation.
Long before "The Last Dance" documentary — a 10-part docu-series that aired in 2020 covering the Bulls' title-winning season in 1997-98 — exposed fragments of that internal intensity to the public, those close to the locker room understood the cost of proximity to greatness. Burrell lived it firsthand, particularly during many notorious practice sessions that have stayed with him.
That 1997–98 season, the final run of the Bulls' dynasty, was steeped in urgency. The front office had already signaled the end, with Phil Jackson on his last contract and whispers of rebuilding growing louder.
Jordan, knowing his window was closing, pushed harder than ever. Practices weren't safe spaces; they were pressure chambers. Every moment, especially for role players like Burrell, was a test of psychological durability as much as athletic skill.
Scott played in 80 games that season, averaging 5.2 points and 2.5 rebounds in under 14 minutes per game. He wasn't a headliner, but he was a cog in a team that went 62-20 and ultimately secured its sixth championship. And while Burrell's stats didn't leap off the page, the battle scars he earned in practices told a different story, one of survival, and perhaps, transformation.
The stories from that practice showed the peculiar structure of Jordan's leadership style. He wasn't trying to be liked. He was trying to win. And winning, in his eyes, demanded a brand of accountability that was as public as it was painful.
Whether Steve Kerr took a punch in the face or Burrell was humiliated under the basket, these rituals defined the Bulls' internal culture.
This story was originally reported by Basketball Network on Jul 8, 2025, where it first appeared.
