For a moment, the United Center could feel it coming.
What had looked like a controlled night for the Bulls suddenly tightened into something far more uncomfortable. A double-digit cushion shrank. Clean possessions disappeared. The Orlando Magic, loose and fearless, began playing like a team with nothing to lose—and everything to prove.
Chicago’s lead evaporated possession by possession.
Every missed shot drew a groan. Every Magic bucket felt louder than the last. What should have been a steady finish turned into a test of nerve as Orlando’s late surge transformed a routine win into a fourth-quarter fight for survival.
The Bulls didn’t panic—but they didn’t dominate either.
Instead, they endured.
Orlando’s comeback wasn’t accidental. The Magic pushed pace, attacked mismatches, and forced Chicago into rushed decisions. Defensive rotations slipped. Ball movement stalled. Suddenly, the Bulls were reacting instead of dictating, clinging to execution while momentum tilted sharply the other way.
The tension was palpable.
Each possession felt heavier than the last. Chicago’s margin for error vanished, and the game slowed into a sequence of half-court battles where every decision carried weight. It was no longer about style points—it was about composure.
That’s when the game pivoted.
One key defensive stand flipped the energy back just enough. A contested shot. A loose ball secured. A transition opportunity converted at precisely the moment Orlando threatened to seize control. It wasn’t spectacular, but it was stabilizing—and sometimes that’s all it takes to stop a run.
From there, the Bulls leaned into poise rather than power.
They milked the clock, trusted spacing, and resisted the urge to force hero shots. The execution wasn’t flawless, but it was deliberate. Just enough patience to draw fouls. Just enough discipline to avoid turnovers. Just enough communication on defense to prevent a clean look.
Orlando kept coming.
That’s what made the finish so revealing. The Magic didn’t fold. They continued to pressure, continued to challenge, continued to believe. And with every trip down the floor, the Bulls were forced to answer the same question: Can we close when things get messy?
This time, the answer was yes.
A final sequence—marked by disciplined defense and a controlled offensive possession—sealed it. No fireworks. No runaway moment. Just a stand. The kind that doesn’t always make highlights but decides games.
When the final buzzer sounded, the relief was obvious.
Chicago escaped with the win—but it didn’t feel like a celebration. It felt like an exhale.
Because while the Bulls did what they had to do, the path there raised familiar questions. Why did the offense stagnate late? Why did defensive pressure ease when the lead was comfortable? And why does control so often slip before it’s reclaimed?
Those questions linger.
At the same time, there’s value in surviving nights like this. Close games reveal character. They expose flaws, but they also show whether a team can respond when momentum turns hostile. The Bulls didn’t crumble. They didn’t spiral. They steadied themselves just enough to walk away with the result.
That matters—especially against a young Magic team that’s learning how dangerous it can be when confidence clicks.
For Orlando, the comeback was a statement even in defeat. For Chicago, the win was a reminder: nothing comes easy, and margins in the NBA are thinner than they look.
This wasn’t pretty.
It wasn’t comfortable.
But it was real.
And as the Bulls move forward, this finish will be worth revisiting—not for how close it came to unraveling, but for how narrowly it held together. Because teams that want to matter in the long run don’t just dominate when things are smooth.
They survive when they’re not.
Chicago did that—barely.
And what they take from this fourth-quarter thriller may matter just as much as the win itself.
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