Nikola Vučević hasn’t been what the Chicago Bulls needed this season. That much is obvious. He’s slower, less explosive, and far less dominant than the version fans remember from Orlando. Watching him night after night can be frustrating — especially when the Bulls are losing, drifting, and searching for someone to blame.
But here’s the uncomfortable truth Chicago doesn’t want to face: Vučević isn’t the core problem. He’s the symptom.
Julia Poe of the Chicago Tribune recently published a revealing, deeply sourced look into Vučević’s present and uncertain future with the Bulls. After reading it, it becomes difficult not to feel sympathy for a veteran big man stuck between what he once was and what the franchise still asks him to be.
“It’s not easy, to be honest with you,” Vučević admitted. “When the team is struggling, when you are struggling, when things are not going your way.”
That quote doesn’t excuse poor play. But it explains the visible frustration. The fans are frustrated. The locker room is frustrated. And increasingly, Vučević is showing he feels it too.
The reality is harsh: Vučević has hit the wall. His days as a true NBA starter are numbered.
That isn’t an insult. It’s biology.
The mistake Chicago keeps making is pretending otherwise.
One of the loudest criticisms aimed at Vučević is his defense — and statistically, it’s fair. He’s averaging just 0.3 blocks per game, and he struggles in space. But Poe’s reporting makes one thing clear: Vučević is not freelancing or loafing. He’s executing a conservative scheme.
He doesn’t aggressively close out shooters. He doesn’t chase guards on the perimeter. To the untrained eye, it looks like apathy. In reality, it’s strategic containment — a choice to avoid blow-bys rather than chase impossible recoveries at age 35.
That’s not elite defense. But it’s also not negligence.
The bigger question is why the Bulls are asking a declining center to cover for perimeter defenders who can’t stay in front of anyone. Vučević was never signed to be a defensive eraser. Expecting him to function as one now borders on organizational malpractice.
Eighty percent of Vučević’s points now come off assists, a career high. That tells the story. He is no longer a creator. He’s a finisher.
He ranks in just the 6th percentile at the rim, a glaring indicator of lost explosion. Against New Orleans — a team packed with athletic interior defenders — he went just 2-for-7 in the paint, repeatedly settling for short pull-ups to avoid contact.
This isn’t softness. It’s adaptation.
The trailer three, once a weapon, is now a necessity. The quick 10-foot jumper isn’t indecision — it’s survival. Vučević is choosing shots he can physically still make.
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And yet, some still want him to be the offensive hub.
Despite occasional pleas from broadcaster Stacey King to feed the post, the reality is unavoidable: the Bulls should not be running offense through Nikola Vučević anymore. Those expectations only widen the gap between what he can do and what fans demand.
Nobody should expect Vučević to start for a contending team. That ship has sailed. As Bulls writer Alejandro Delgado bluntly put it, if Vučević were on many Western Conference teams, he might not even crack the rotation.
That may be true.
But that’s not Vučević’s crime.
He didn’t construct this roster. He didn’t decide that a team with Josh Giddey and Coby White as its backcourt — both defensively limited — could somehow maintain “competitive integrity.” That belief belongs to Executive Vice President of Basketball Operations Arturas Karnisovas.
Vučević is playing the role he was assigned. The problem is that the role itself is outdated.
A 35-year-old center on an expiring deal should not be asked to stabilize a collapsing season or anchor a flawed roster design. Directing rage at him is emotional — not logical.
Vučević has flaws. Serious ones. And yes, Chicago must plan for the future at his position.
But Bulls fans should pause before unloading all their anger on him. This season isn’t unraveling because Vučević declined. It’s unraveling because the front office tried to compete without a foundation — without elite talent, defensive identity, or a coherent timeline.
The building didn’t collapse because of one cracked beam.
It collapsed because the architect ignored physics.
Vučević is aging. He knows it. The fans know it. The league knows it.
The only people who seemed surprised are the ones who built a roster that still needs him to be something he no longer is. And until that changes, Chicago will keep mistaking symptoms for causes — and blaming the wrong man as the season continues to fall apart.
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