The best tributes do not hide in some private corner where only the already-convinced will see them. They stand in the open, force people to look up, and remind Chicago exactly who Stacey King was. That is what makes the new mural in Logan Square such a fitting gesture: it places a beloved Bulls figure, and one of the city’s most recognisable broadcasting voices, on a wall that thousands of people will pass every day.
King died suddenly on June 7 at the age of 59, and less than two months later his memory has already been painted into the cityscape at 2929 West Fullerton Avenue. It is visible from the Blue Line northbound toward O'Hare International Airport, which means this is not a hidden memorial for the already initiated. It is public, unavoidable and properly local — exactly the kind of tribute a man like King deserves.
A Bulls legacy that never really left Chicago
King’s basketball story in Chicago has always carried a certain neatness to it. The Bulls selected him with the No. 6 overall pick in the 1989 NBA Draft, and he was on the roster for the franchise’s first three championship runs in 1991, 1992 and 1993. He was not the headline act in that era, but that is part of the point. Championship teams need players who understand their role, and King was part of a winning structure that became part of NBA history.
He later became something even more durable in the city: a broadcaster for the Bulls for two decades. That matters. Plenty of former players pass through organizations. Fewer become part of the daily rhythm of a fan base. King did. His voice became tied to Chicago basketball in a way that extended far beyond the box score.
And of course there was the line that followed him everywhere: “Too big, too strong, too fast, too good!” It was the sort of emphatic declaration that could only belong to someone with the personality to match the moment. It became a signature because it sounded exactly like King — loud, direct, and impossible to mistake for anyone else.
Why this mural matters
There is a tendency in sports to reserve the most visible honors for the biggest names and the cleanest narratives. That is understandable, but it can flatten a team’s real history. The mural in Logan Square resists that impulse. It says that Chicago’s basketball memory is not only about the banners and the superstars. It is also about the people who helped carry the franchise across two decades and into the modern era.
That is why the location matters so much. A mural near the Blue Line is not an isolated shrine. It becomes part of the commute, part of the background, part of the city’s daily visual language. People heading north toward O'Hare International Airport will see it, and so will anyone moving through Logan Square. King’s face is now part of Chicago in the most literal way possible.
There is no need to overcomplicate this. A man who helped define a championship era, then spent two decades becoming the voice of the team, has been given a tribute that fits the scale of his connection to the city. In a sport that often moves too fast to pause properly, this one does exactly that. It stops, looks back, and gets it right.
