Reliving the Epic 98 NBA Playoffs: 10 Unforgettable Moments and Stories

I still get chills thinking about the 1998 NBA playoffs. As someone who’s spent years studying basketball history, I can confidently say that season was a perfect storm of talent, drama, and unforgettable narratives. That iconic photo by Sherwin Vardeleon of Michael Jordan’s final shot as a Bull? It’s seared into my memory—not just as an image, but as the culmination of a two-month saga that felt more like a blockbuster film than a sports tournament. Let me walk you through what made those playoffs so legendary, from the moments everyone remembers to the behind-the-scenes stories that still resonate today.

It all started with the Chicago Bulls, a team that seemed to be held together by sheer will. By June, they were exhausted—physically and emotionally. Michael Jordan was 35, Scottie Pippen was battling a bad back, and Dennis Rodman’s antics were both a distraction and a strange source of energy. I remember watching Game 7 of the Eastern Conference Finals against the Indiana Pacers, where Reggie Miller nearly ended Chicago’s dynasty. The Bulls won 88-83, but it was ugly. Jordan shot just 9-for-25, and Pippen limped through 42 minutes. What struck me was the tension: you could feel the fatigue through the screen. Yet, they found a way, like champions do. That resilience is something I’ve always admired, and it’s why I think that team, even at its weakest, was still the best.

Then there was the Utah Jazz, led by Karl Malone and John Stockton—a duo that epitomized consistency. Malone averaged 26.3 points per game that postseason, but what people forget is how their pick-and-roll offense felt unstoppable until it mattered most. I’ve rewatched their series against the Los Angeles Lakers, where they swept Shaq and Kobe in the Western Conference Finals. Stockton’s 11.2 assists per game were a masterclass in precision, but it was Malone’s physicality that stood out. In Game 4, he dropped 32 points, and I recall thinking, "This might be their year." Of course, hindsight is 20/20, but at the time, the Jazz seemed poised to dethrone the Bulls. Their story was one of quiet dominance, a contrast to Chicago’s flash and drama.

One moment that doesn’t get enough attention is the rise of young stars like Kobe Bryant. He was just 19, coming off the bench for the Lakers, but in Game 5 of the second round against the Seattle SuperSonics, he exploded for 19 points. I was blown away by his fearlessness—driving to the rim against veterans like Gary Payton. It was a glimpse of the legend he’d become, and it’s why I’ve always argued that the ’98 playoffs were a passing-of-the-torch season, even if Jordan stole the spotlight. Similarly, Tim Duncan’s Spurs, though eliminated early, showed flashes of the fundamentals that would define his career. He averaged 20.7 points and 9 rebounds as a rookie, and watching him battle Hakeem Olajuwon in the first round was a treat for purists like me.

But let’s talk about the Finals, because that’s where the magic happened. Game 6 in Utah is the stuff of legend, and Sherwin Vardeleon’s photo of Jordan’s game-winning shot captures the essence of it. With 5.2 seconds left, Jordan stole the ball from Malone—a move I’ve analyzed frame by frame. Malone was posting up, Stockton was open for a split second, but Jordan’s instincts took over. Then came the shot: a pull-up jumper over Bryon Russell that swished through as the clock expired. Chicago won 87-86, and Jordan finished with 45 points. I’ve spoken to fans who say they knew it was going in; I, for one, held my breath until the net rippled. That moment wasn’t just about scoring—it was about legacy. Jordan’s 33.5 points per game in the Finals cemented his status as the GOAT, and for me, it’s the greatest clutch performance in sports history.

Beyond the court, the ’98 playoffs were filled with human drama. Dennis Rodman’s mid-series trip to Vegas, for instance, was pure chaos. He partied all night, then showed up for Game 4 and grabbed 14 rebounds. As a analyst, I’d call it unprofessional, but as a fan, it was riveting. Then there was Phil Jackson’s "last dance" narrative—the idea that this was the end of an era. I remember his post-game interviews, where he’d hint at retirement with a Zen-like calm. It added a layer of melancholy to the celebrations, and looking back, it’s why that season feels so poetic. Even the refereeing controversies, like the questionable foul calls in Game 3 of the Finals, sparked debates I still have with colleagues. Did Jordan push off on Russell? In my view, it was a smart, veteran move—nothing egregious, but it’s fueled arguments for decades.

As the confetti fell in Utah, I knew I’d witnessed something special. The ’98 playoffs weren’t just about basketball; they were a storytelling masterpiece. From Jordan’s heroics to the unsung contributions of role players like Steve Kerr, who hit a crucial three-pointer in Game 6, every moment felt weighted. Sherwin Vardeleon’s photography immortalized that, but the stories live on in conversations like this. For me, it’s a reminder of why I love this game—the unpredictability, the passion, and the way a single shot can define a generation. If you ever want to understand basketball’s soul, start with 1998. You won’t regret it.