If you want to understand the lightning-fast crossover or that quiet, almost stoic intensity Derrick Rose carried through sixteen seasons in the NBA, you have to look at a specific set of blocks on Chicago’s South Side. He isn't just "from Chicago." That’s too broad. To be precise, where Derrick Rose from is a neighborhood called Englewood, a place that shaped him into the youngest MVP in basketball history and, later, one of the most resilient humans to ever lace up a pair of Adidas.
Englewood is tough. Honestly, that might be an understatement. Growing up there in the 90s and early 2000s meant navigating a landscape where the graduation rates were low and the crime rates were high. Rose lived in a four-bedroom house on 73rd and Paulina with about ten or eleven people at any given time. It was crowded. It was loud. But for "Pooh"—the nickname his grandmother gave him because he was a chunky baby who looked like Winnie-the-Pooh—it was home.
The Concrete Rose of Murray Park
Most people think stars are born in elite prep academies. Not Rose. He was forged at Murray Park. This wasn't some pristine facility with hardwood floors and air conditioning. It was a rugged outdoor court where he’d spend hours shoveling snow off the concrete just to get shots up in the dead of a Chicago winter.
What’s wild is how the neighborhood reacted to his talent. Usually, in places like Englewood, a kid with that much potential becomes a target. For Rose, it was the opposite. The local gangs actually declared Murray Park a "safe zone" because of him. They knew he was the ticket out, not just for himself, but for the reputation of the neighborhood.
His three older brothers—Dwayne, Reggie, and Allan—acted like a human shield. They saw the scouts, the agents, and the street influencers circling like vultures from the time Derrick was in eighth grade. They basically locked him down. If you wanted to talk to Derrick, you had to go through Reggie. You didn't get his cell phone number. You didn't get to take him to parties. They let him be a kid who played Xbox and ate gummy bears while they handled the "business" of being a prodigy.
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Why Simeon Was the Only Choice
When it came time for high school, a lot of people expected the top-ranked kid in the city to go to some suburban powerhouse. Instead, he stayed home. He chose Simeon Career Academy. Why? Because it was in his backyard.
"I had heard too many stories about people who go too far out of their neighborhood, where people try to test you," Rose once admitted.
At Simeon, he wore the number 25 to honor Ben "Benji" Wilson, a former Simeon star who was killed just before his senior season in 1984. That pressure would break most kids. Rose just used it as fuel. He led the Wolverines to back-to-back state titles in 2006 and 2007, cementing himself as a local deity before he ever set foot on a college campus.
Beyond the Windy City: Memphis and the Return
The journey took a quick detour to the University of Memphis. Under John Calipari, Rose led the Tigers to a 38-2 record and a National Championship appearance. Even then, everyone knew he was a "one and done" player. The NBA was calling, and specifically, the lottery balls were bouncing in a way that felt like destiny.
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In 2008, the Chicago Bulls had a 1.7% chance of landing the number one pick. 1.7 percent. That’s nothing. But the math didn't matter. They won the lottery, and they took the kid from Englewood.
The connection between the city and the player was instant. When Rose won Rookie of the Year in 2009 and then became the youngest MVP in history in 2011, he wasn't just a basketball player. He was a symbol. He represented the idea that you could come from the most neglected part of the city and reach the absolute peak of the world.
The Retirement and the Legacy Left Behind
Fast forward to September 26, 2024. After years of devastating knee injuries—the ACL tear in 2012, the meniscus tears, the endless surgeries—Derrick Rose officially retired. He didn't just post a tweet. He took out full-page ads in the newspapers of the six cities he played in: Chicago, New York, Cleveland, Minneapolis, Detroit, and Memphis.
It was a class move. Very on-brand for a guy who never cared much for the flashy "look at me" culture of the modern NBA.
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The Bulls recently announced they will retire his No. 1 jersey during the 2025-26 season. It’s the ultimate "thank you" from a city that saw itself in his struggle. Mayor Brandon Johnson even declared January 4 as "Derrick Rose Day." Honestly, if you walk through Englewood today, you’ll still see kids wearing his jersey. He showed them that the "What if" stories don't have to be sad.
How to Apply the "Rose Mentality" to Your Own Life
Derrick Rose’s story isn't just for basketball fans. It’s a blueprint for anyone dealing with setbacks. Here is how you can take his Englewood-born resilience and use it:
- Protect your inner circle. Just like Rose’s brothers shielded him, you need to audit who has access to your energy. Cut out the noise.
- Embrace the "What if." Rose said in his retirement statement that he wouldn't change his injuries because they helped him find "real joy" beyond the game. Stop mourning the version of your life that didn't happen.
- Give back to your roots. Rose donated $1 million to After School Matters in Chicago. Success is empty if you don't reach back.
- Pivot with grace. When he couldn't be the "Windy City Assassin" anymore due to his knees, he reinvented himself as a veteran leader and a 50-point scorer in Minnesota. If your "Plan A" breaks, build a better "Plan B."
Where Derrick Rose from didn't define his limit; it defined his floor. He started in the basement of Englewood and ended up in the rafters of the United Center. Whether you’re an athlete or an entrepreneur, that kind of grit is the only thing that actually lasts.
Actionable Step: If you're feeling stuck by a setback, write down your own "What if" story. Then, right next to it, write one thing that wouldn't have been possible if everything had gone perfectly. That's where your real growth is.