CHICAGO -- Derrick Rose's name used to mean one thing. Then it meant another.
Now, who knows what you think when you hear the name Derrick Rose? It's a crossroads kind of season for the erstwhile MVP after two seasons on the shelf.
But on Saturday night, Rose's name was gold, as he added it to a roster of socially-conscious athletes. It's important for someone of Rose's status and background to be on that team. Crucial, even.
For Rose, 26, is a child of Chicago, and not the city you see from a tour bus.
By now you know Rose wore a T-shirt that read "I Can't Breathe," the now-famous last words of Eric Garner, a New York man whose death at the hands of the New York City police department was caught on videotape. A Staten Island grand jury decided not to indict the officer last week, resulting in protests across the country.
Rose talked about it Monday. For once, he was looking for attention. It was just something he wanted to say.
"It wasn't anyone's idea," he said Monday. "It was just that I wanted to support something that happened and that's what made me wear the shirt."
For those who believe the bunk that Rose is controlled by his agent or his brother, know that this was Rose's idea and his call. His manager, and friend, Randall Hampton, brought the shirt to the game, Rose said. At the game Saturday, Rose's security man/friend Andre Hamlin told me Rose asked him to make sure he was at warmups to get a picture of a shirt. The only person on the Bulls who knew it was coming was Joakim Noah, one of the more socially-conscious athletes.
Rose's circle is small and he's not big on sharing his feelings. Even Rose's family was in the dark.
"They haven't said anything to me about it," Rose said. "They always call me a rebel. I kind of stay to myself a little bit. I kind of do what I want, but not to hurt anybody or anything or be disrespectful. I just do it in my own little way."
Rose said he didn't speak after the game because he was upset with the Bulls' 112-102 loss to Golden State, and likely his unimpressive fourth quarter. But he talked Monday at the Advocate Center, and said he hasn't followed the reaction to his statement -- which has been almost uniformly positive -- but was pleased it's made an impact.
"I'm just happy that people paid attention to it," he said. "I think it touched a lot of people because I grew up in an impoverished area like that and sometimes [situations like that] happen a lot of times. It just touched a lot of people and I just wanted to make sure that I got my point across."
Rose also joked that him playing five games in a row is the real story.
His reticence speaking publicly during his injured two seasons have cast him in an often-unfavorable light. Some take his taciturn nature for a lack of intelligence or curiosity, which is a cynical mistake.
That faraway look you see when Rose is on the bench? He's not a blank slate.
"I'm always daydreaming," he told me a couple months ago. "My mind is always racing. Some nights I can't sleep because my mind is racing too much. That's just who I am. I can't stop doing that. I've always been a daydreamer."
With the media, Rose is polite, though occasionally scarce, and will share personal anecdotes from time to time. When asked Monday if he admired a socially-conscious athlete growing up, Rose showed a glimpse of the man behind the image.
"I wouldn't say an athlete, I would say someone like Malcolm X, someone I looked up to when I was younger," he said. "Being so close, him from being from Detroit, my mom paying attention to it, my grandmother always talking about it. That's something I always thought about as a kid, but didn't really go deep into it because I was so young."
While you can't see it during games, with the leg compression sleeves and low shorts, Rose got a tattoo of Malcolm X's face on the outside of his left calf during the 2011-12 season. That was his first portrait tattoo, he told me.
He said he's read "The Autobiography of Malcolm X" and has watched Spike Lee's movie "Malcolm X."
"That's my guy," he said.
Yes, Rose is deeper than you thought. He reads, he thinks. He's a human being.
"A lot of people think I'm a mute," he told me before the season started. "I'm not a mute, man. If I'm around my family and friends, I'm usually the one cracking jokes and telling stories."
"He talks to us," Taj Gibson said. "He doesn't talk to people he doesn't know. He's not into that, because he's in his shell. For the people he's close to, in his circle, we talk all the time."
Rose grew up in Englewood, and while he was always focused on basketball, he wasn't completely insulated from the reality around him. That's why he felt the need to speak up about the Garner verdict, which came on the heels of the Ferguson case and the Tamir Rice shooting in Cleveland. Rose, who talks often about the violence and poverty in Chicago, appeared in Noah's anti-violence PSA last summer and helped out at Noah's One City basketball tournament.
"Usually I stay out of politics and police brutality," Rose said. "I'm not saying all cops are bad or anything, I'm just saying what happened them days is uncalled for and I think that hurt a lot of people. It hurt the nation. But my biggest concern is the kids. I know what they're thinking right now. I was one of them kids.
"When you live in an area like that and you don't got any hope, and police are treating you any way. I'm not saying all police [officers] are treating kids bad, but when you live in an are like that, it gives you another reason to be bad. My biggest concern are the kids and making sure that my son grows up in a safe environment."
Rose's 2-year-old son, Derrick Jr., known as PJ for Pooh, Jr., was at Saturday's game, blissfully roaming the halls in a pair of adorable toddler light brown Timberlands. Rose said being a father has changed his perspective on a lot of issues, police brutality among them.
"I don't want my son growing up being scared of the police or even having that thought on his mind that something like that could happen," Rose said.
PJ will grow up in a much different environment than his father, but for African-American men, the fear remains.
"People look at us and say we make a lot of money, we play basketball, we don't have any issues," Warriors forward Andre Iguodala told me Saturday of Rose's statement and the Garner story. "That could be us. That could be any of our family members, so it hit real close to home."
Rose has always had the potential to stand for more than just basketball. With a small but important gesture, Rose realized that potential in a way that remained true to himself.