The young man’s deepest commitments lay etched in the tattoo art that covers much of his body — the cross on his right bicep, the words “God’s Child” scrolled across his upper back, the name of his mother Brenda extending down his right wrist and hand.

Just one year ago, Chicago Bulls guard Derrick Rose was smarting from his team’s first-round playoff exit after a season in which he made just 16 total 3-pointers and earned a reputation as a talented point guard who simply could not shoot.

Now, Rose has the Bulls in the midst of a deep playoff run after leading them to the best record in the league. And his shooting? Try 128 regular season 3-pointers and a reputation as one of the most dangerous scorers in the game.

The transformation was enough to earn the 22-year-old team captain the NBA’s MVP award, making him the youngest player ever to receive the honor. Award voters could not ignore the 25 points, 7.7 assists, and 4.1 rebounds per game. Never mind that Rose routinely carried the Bulls on his back with fourth-quarter heroics reminiscent of the last Chicago star to claim MVP honors.

But Rose is not simply a developing player who has found his shooting stroke. He is a developing person who has found his voice.

Summoned to a podium to receive his award at a Marriott just outside his hometown of Chicago, Rose delivered a deep and humble dash of oratory color to accompany his remarkable bloom: “First, I want to thank God for giving me the ability to go out there and play the way that I’m playing.” He went on to thank the league, teammates, coaches, Bulls management, trainers, family, and friends, capping the run of gratitude with a three-minute tribute to his mother as he fought back tears: “My heart. The reason why I play the way I play. . . . You keep me going every day, and I love you. I appreciate you being in my life.”

The young man’s deepest commitments lay etched in the tattoo art that covers much of his body — the cross on his right bicep, the words “God’s Child” scrolled across his upper back, the name of his mother Brenda extending down his right wrist and hand.

“I’m not here to shout, boast, or preach,” the soft-spoken Rose once said. No need when game and life are loud enough.

@Copyright 2011 World News Service – Used with permission