
Josh Giddey’s rise up the Chicago Bulls record book should have been a celebration, but instead it opened up a loud debate about legacy, context, and how modern NBA numbers are viewed. Giddey recently recorded his 29th career triple double, moving past Michael Jordan’s 28 and setting a new franchise mark in that category.
That milestone arrived during a frustrating stretch for Chicago, which dropped back to back road games against the Los Angeles Lakers and Los Angeles Clippers, making it harder for the team to turn individual achievements into real momentum. The contrast made the moment feel complicated from the start.
On one side, there is no denying the accomplishment. Passing Jordan in any statistical category for the Bulls is going to attract attention, no matter the era, the team record, or the surrounding circumstances. Giddey has been productive enough to force his name into a conversation few players in franchise history ever enter.
On the other side, not everyone in the Bulls family appreciated how the moment was presented. Ron Harper, a franchise icon and one of Jordan’s former teammates during Chicago’s championship run in the 1990s, publicly criticized the Bulls’ social media post celebrating Giddey’s move past Jordan.
Harper’s reaction was blunt and emotional. He wrote, “Stop posted dumb stuff please!!!!!!” and followed it with another sharp message arguing that today’s numbers mean less on losing teams and in a different basketball environment. His comments immediately added fuel to the debate.
That response reflects a larger argument that has followed the NBA for years. Critics of the modern game often point to the faster pace, the spread floor, and the much greater volume of three point shooting as reasons why certain counting stats can pile up more easily than they once did. That does not make the numbers fake, but it does change how some former players interpret them.
For older generations, comparing any modern Bull to Jordan is almost guaranteed to trigger pushback. Jordan is not simply the greatest player in franchise history. He is the standard by which every Chicago star is judged, and many around the organization still view any statistical comparison with extreme caution.
That is why this story became bigger than a triple double. It was not really about whether Giddey is a greater player than Jordan, because nobody serious is making that argument. It became about whether highlighting that stat without context felt disrespectful to what Jordan represents in Bulls history.
At the same time, dismissing Giddey’s achievement entirely would also be unfair. Reaching 29 career triple doubles at his age is a real marker of versatility, playmaking vision, and rebounding instinct from the guard position. Even in a more stat friendly era, not many players get there that quickly.
Giddey’s game has always been built on filling multiple columns of the box score. He rebounds like a forward, sees passing angles like a lead guard, and controls tempo in a way that has allowed him to rack up triple doubles since entering the league. That skill set travels, regardless of what decade he is playing in.
Still, critics have continued to label him an “empty calories” player, the kind of player who can produce eye catching numbers on a struggling team without necessarily proving he can be the top option on a contender. That criticism has followed him from earlier stages of his career and has resurfaced again as Chicago continues to search for a clearer direction.

The reality is probably somewhere in the middle. Giddey does not need to be a number one superstar for this to be an important development for the Bulls. What matters more is whether he can become a high level connector, creator, and foundational piece on a team that eventually grows into something more serious.
That possibility is part of why Chicago still has reason to be intrigued. Giddey is nearing the end of his second season with the Bulls after arriving from the Oklahoma City Thunder, and he has shown enough flashes to suggest he can be a meaningful part of the franchise’s next phase.
Another reason for optimism is the emergence of Matas Buzelis. The young forward and Giddey have started to look like an interesting duo, one that gives Chicago at least a little hope that its rebuild or retool could still produce a strong young core. The fit is not finished, but the promise is there.
For the Bulls, that is the more important conversation than any social media controversy. Whether Harper liked the post or not, Chicago’s front office has to decide whether Giddey is someone worth building around, or at least building with, as the team tries to escape mediocrity and move toward a more coherent long term plan.
The timing also matters. With the season not going the way Chicago hoped, the franchise is staring at another important offseason. The draft lottery could shape everything, especially if the Bulls are able to add another high upside young talent in June and place that player alongside Giddey and Buzelis.
If that happens, this statistical milestone may one day look like an early sign that Giddey was becoming more central to Chicago’s future than many first assumed. If it does not happen, then Harper’s criticism will likely continue to echo as another reminder that numbers alone do not change how players are remembered.
That is what makes the moment so fascinating. Giddey accomplished something undeniably rare for a Bulls player, yet the reaction around it showed just how hard it is to celebrate franchise history when the shadow of Jordan still covers everything.
In the end, both truths can exist at once. Josh Giddey deserves credit for breaking a real Chicago statistical record, and Ron Harper’s frustration also reflects how fiercely the Jordan era is still protected inside Bulls culture.
For now, Giddey has the number. What he needs next is the part that matters most in Chicago: winning enough for the achievement to feel bigger than a footnote, and important enough to silence the idea that it only happened in empty games.