The Shocking Night Shaquille O'Neal Almost Took Off Brad Miller's Head
Shaq Daddy nearly put the Chicago Bulls center into the ICU. And it all went down ten yards in front of me.
IF YOU EVER GET the opportunity to stand behind Shaquille O’Neal, take it.
My chance to bask in The Big Aristotle’s bigness came about on the evening of January 12, 2002. A lousy Chicago Bulls team was hosting the World Champion Los Angeles Lakers, and as a hard-working member of the Bulls’ content team, I was afforded a seat on press row.
Before you say, “Oooooh, press row, lucky Alan,” bear in mind that in this era of Chicago basketball, press row was a big nothingburger. Y’see, the 2001-02 Bulls were a Dumpster fire — at that point in the season, they were in the midst of a 2-14 stretch — so the justifiably disinterested local newspaper sports editors sent either one or zero reporters to cover the mess. The national press had no interest in being anywhere near the United Center, so most nights, a peon writer such as myself was able to sit on the floor, one seat to the right of the stanchion, inches from the court.
For the sake of this story, my close proximity is important.
Each game night, we scribes and the visiting team entered the arena through the same tunnel, all of us making our way onto the court more or less simultaneously. Being that they were players and I was a peon writer, I’d always hang back and let the Kobes, the Yaos, and the A.I.s of the world wander onto hardwood before I did.
On the night in question, I found myself walking behind #32. And it was epic.
Shaq was a building, a 16-wheeler, and a Patagotitan mayorum, all wrapped up into one yellow-and-purple package. At the time, O’Neal was listed at 7’1'“, 325, but in 2023, he claimed that at points during the 2002 season, he tipped the scales at over 400 pounds. From my perspective — a perspective that had me eye-level with what seemed like a three-foot-wide ass — I won’t disagree.
For the sake of this story, Shaq’s girth is important.
The game tipped off, and it was surprisingly competitive, something that visibly irked the mighty Lakers, as the Bulls came into the clash with a record of 7-28, while Los Angeles were a near-reverse-mirror-image 26-7. Shaq, Kobe, Rick Fox, Derek Fisher et all sauntered into the U.C. expecting a cakewalk; instead, they found themselves in a tight contest. And Shaq found himself getting salty with Brad Miller.
Ah, Brad Miller.
The 6’11, 260-pound center from Purdue was a righteous dude, one of the few Bulls on the roster who treated us peon writers with the same politeness and respect he bestowed upon the “real” writers: Always chatty, always forthcoming, and usually funny.
I dug him. Opponents didn’t.
You couldn’t call Brad a dirty player, but you could say he was dirty-adjacent, a guy who elbowed and chirped his way through his respectable 14-year career. Sure, the two-time All-Star could be an irritant, but this Bulls squad was so crappy that there generally wasn’t anything for opponents to get irritated about.
On this evening, though, Miller and his sub-.500 mates were hanging tight with the defending champs. Thus there was plenty to be irritated about. Especially for Shaq.
What with my close proximity to the action, I was able to enjoy every magical moment of O’Neal’s and Miller’s battle in the paint. The hip checks and trash talk made for quality entertainment, standing in sharp contrast to the rest of the season, which wasn’t entertaining in the least.
Fast forward to the fourth quarter. Shaq and Brad were going at it in the paint on my side of the court. And going at it. And going it. And going at it some more. Finally, Shaq had enough.
As an errant rebound bounced out of bounds, Miller staggered towards the left side of press row (remember, I was on the right), his back to the court. O’Neal, who was about four feet behind Miller, cocked his fist, reared back, and threw a punch.
This wasn’t a casual punch — O’Neal put all of his 400 pounds into it. It was a punch that would’ve sent Mike Tyson to the canvas. It was a punch that would’ve put a dent in the John Hancock building.
Had it landed, it was a punch that would’ve ended Brad Miller’s career.
Fortunately for Miller, his staggering motion had him falling away from O’Neal, so the Big Aristotle’s Big Swing was a Big Whiff.
After the punch, gravity did its work, and the two lumbering centers fell face-first into press row. The intelligent reporters over on the left side of the basket scattered, while the intelligent reporters on the right side stayed put.
But there was one dumbass writer who had no regard for his own safety, one dumbass writer who ran towards the melee.
Yes, dear readers, I was that dumbass — so dumb, that I’d do it again…but only because I escaped unscathed. If I’d have gotten an O’Neal knee to the softies, I’d make a wiser decision next time around.
From my up-close view of the scrap, I was again taken by Shaq’s bulk, which seemed even bulkier as he rolled around on the floor. After giving me a nasty glare, one of the officials separated the combatants, then twice T’d them up, then sent them to their respective locker rooms.
For the Bulls, that night’s story had a happy ending, as they pulled out a 106-104 overtime win, a memorable victory in a forgettable season.
FOR THEIR ROLES in the rumble, Shaq was fined $15,000 and suspended for three games, while Miller was suspended for one.
You can’t accuse Shaq of attempted murder, as the Inside the NBA co-host wasn’t actually interested in killing Miller. Just maiming him:
“I wanted to bust his eardrums up that’s all, I wanted him to hear f**k[ing] tweety birds for the rest of his life.”
All these years later, Miller still cringes at his near death experience — hell, if I remembered it so vividly it would stand to reason that it would scar the guy who was almost sent into the second balcony. In 2021, Miller told Prep Athletics:
“If [O’Neal had] been one inch to the right and squarely hit me in the back of the head I probably wouldn't be sitting here in the same spot right now.”
He’s not wrong.