Editor’s note: Joel Lorenzi is taking over the Chicago Bulls beat this season for The Athletic, joining after covering the NBA champion Oklahoma City Thunder. A Chicago native, here is his (re-)introduction to the city.

CHICAGO — Never, ever did I consider this journey would bring me back home.

I grew up weaving through the narrow blocks West of Humboldt Park, innocently hoping to play full-court games at the edge of the park against grown men. I came up watching Derrick Rose hold his own versus Dirk Nowitzki and Brandon Roy from the nosebleeds of the United Center. I squeezed into wooden bleachers while at Whitney Young High School, witness to some of the best prep basketball this nation can offer. My blood type is Out West.

Chicago was the incubator for my love of basketball. I set out on this winding path to chronicle the journeys of those who make the game what it is. I followed the stories. They took me through mid-Missouri, Indianapolis, Houston, Omaha and Oklahoma City.

Now, I’m the new Chicago Bulls beat writer at The Athletic.

This city, storied and prideful, and this fan base, once spoiled and stringent with its standards, know their worth.

Bulls fans: I’m well aware of the pride that still swells in you from the ’90s, when no one outside of Chicago could tell you anything so long as Michael Jordan had a pulse (or chose to play basketball).

I know the part of your soul that was crushed when Rose took that fateful fall in 2012.

I can sense the part of you that’s withered, hopelessly holding on to the memories of the dynasty and what could’ve been with Rose.

I know how you think. What you feel. What stings. What lingers. What keeps you faithful.

I know you’re not going to tune out — not completely — until this franchise makes you feel the way you once felt.

I hope to reel you back in. To make you feel something. If nothing else, to make you feel seen and heard.

I learned some things in my time away.

In Missouri, I learned about overachievers (and underachievers).

In Indiana, I embedded myself in a state that truly loves basketball. I shared space with a young star flipped by a franchise that promised him the world. That Tyrese Haliburton guy turned out to be OK.

In Omaha, I saw young talent boil over, pushing the limits of what a program thought it could do.

In Oklahoma City, I saw the makings of a winner. Process. Culture. Greatness. The juxtaposition of platitudes and personality. The strength of youth. The power of friendship. The benefits of the willingness to rebuild.

I saw risks be rewarded. I witnessed team building at its finest. The intricacy involved in shifting the pieces until they fit. In choosing the correct ones to depend on, even when others squint at the vision. And in the end, I saw the city capture its first NBA title.

All in a place with far less hoop pedigree.

Chicago is starving. Its most loyal fans can feel their ribs touch as they wait for a taste of optimism. These days, they only hope that someone is listening.

Here I stand, hoping to be the conduit between what was once basketball’s most celebrated franchise and its fan base. I promise to bring you the stories that make your ears perk up, from Michael to Matas.

I see you. I feel you. I’ve walked these same streets. I hope you sense that when you read me.

(Photo of United Center: Michael Reaves/Getty Images)