As I was making my way down the steep slope of the United Center cheap seats this afternoon, just off a supremely satisfying/agonizing double-overtime Bulls victory, I caught a bit of Joakim Noah’s post-game interview at courtside. The World’s Only Respectable Man With a Ponytail held forth with a platitude-riffic speech, complete with talk of never giving up, working hard, providing a team effort, and never giving up on a hard-working team effort. But there was an inspired bit of Noah-ism in there, when he paused and took the microphone in hand, and thanked the crowd for their support, and said something mildly mild about how the team couldn’t have done it without the fans. But after spending the last half hour on my feet, I had to wonder if the fans could have done it without Noah. Ever since Scott Skiles, this team has been aching for some personality. And now, with Noah, they got it.

For the past five years, this team has been toying with success, which has frustrated a loyal fan base. But even more frustrating is their utter lack of personality. If you met most of this team at a party, you’d want to find another party. Derrick Rose is possessed of a disquieting quietude. Tyrus Thomas would not acknowledge your existence because you are not Tyrus Thomas. Ben Gordon would only talk pilates. Kirk Hinrich would want to know who ate all the cereal, seriously. Aaron Gray would stare over your shoulder, assessing the progress of his meager playoff beard in a photo frame’s reflection. John Salmons looks like a jazz pianist, which means he’s probably about as much fun as a jazz pianist. You don’t want to hang out with these people. You want to hang out with Noah. I thought of this toward the end of double overtime, when Noah pulled down a rebound and drew a Big Baby Davis foul. Little Ben Gordon ran across the court, threw himself at Noah, screamed something the microphones hopefully didn’t catch, slapped him in the ass, and then followed him around like Noah was captain, his captain. And I thought, “Holy shit, Joakim Noah just made Ben Gordon grow a personality.” The Bulls had finally found what they needed, their clown and their king, their man with a first name no two announcers pronounce the same and a ponytail to make mothers cry.

Welcome to the savior of your Chicago Bulls, the man with a heartbeat to match your own. And, of course, moves you could never hope to match: