I was at the Bulls' practice facility recently and found myself gazing at the banners of retired numbers hanging like church tapestries. Michael Jordan's name was up there, as were Scottie Pippen's, Jerry Sloan's and Bob Love's.

Did Norm Van Lier deserve a banner? I don't know. What I do know is that, in terms of aptness, it was probably best that he didn't have one. Being an outsider always suited Van Lier. It fit his personality like a floor burn, made him hungry, caused him to narrow his eyes.

It informed almost everything he did, from his days as a player to his later work as a radio and TV personality.

His edges were hard, his elbows were hard and his life was, at times, hard.

He was hard to get around if you had the basketball. He was hard to figure sometimes. And his hardheadedness was legendary.

You didn't want to be around Van Lier when there was a loose ball.

He doesn't have to fight anymore, not for respect, not for his due, not for anything. He was found dead Thursday morning. The cause of death wasn't immediately known.

I sat with Van Lier on a Comcast SportsNet show once and never forgot the way he rocked back and forth when he talked about a team's lack of desire and hustle. I can't recall which team it was -- Bulls, Cubs, Bears, it didn't matter. He was torqued.

At that particular moment, there seemed to be a very good chance that, given the opportunity, he would tackle a running back or take out a shortstop on a hard slide into second base.

He wasn't a superstar. He was a presence. He was the checkpoint you had to get past. He had to be accounted for. As a player, he demanded that.

He played his college ball at St. Francis in Pennsylvania because no big-time basketball schools came calling for his services. That's how it was for him, and that's how he ended up trying to prove to the world how wrong it was.

Did that hard personality create the demons that sometimes led him around by the nose? I don't know the answer to that question either. He had his struggles. He fought.

If you're a Chicagoan of a certain vintage, whenever you think of Sloan, you think of Van Lier. They were cut from the same rock. The Bulls drafted Van Lier in 1969 and traded him to the Cincinnati Royals. That led to a confrontation between the two players.

"We were playing an exhibition game against [the] Bulls, I think on the campus of Illinois State," Van Lier told the Washington Post. "Jerry and I got to pushing and shoving each other and then fighting. … Well, play continued at the other end, and Jerry and I kept going at it.

"The rest of the guys looked up and said, 'Where the hell are Norm and Jerry?' We had rolled right out of the gym into the halls of the arena. I think we knocked over a popcorn maker."

The Bulls later wanted to reacquire Van Lier, but before they did, they asked Sloan whether he would be able to coexist with the scrappy point guard.

Sloan said that any guy who fought like Van Lier could be his teammate.

Opponents would have rather had non-elective surgery than face Van Lier. He often was assigned to the other team's best guard and he usually made life hell for him.

But his offensive game tends to get lost in the discussions about his grit. He averaged 11.8 points, seven assists and 4.8 rebounds per game. That would get him about $8 million a year in the NBA today.

Hard, yes, he certainly was that. But there was a softness and a kindness to the man too.

He had become sentimental in recent years after losing several close friends.

He loved being old-school. He enjoyed talking about the bands he liked, including the Rolling Stones and Chicago. He liked to talk about toughness too. A lot.

He didn't have any use for players who weren't hustling. That attitude had nothing to do with his age, 61, and everything to do with what he thought was right and wrong. You stepped on the court, you played hard. That was a given.

It didn't matter if you played in his era or the current one. If you played with fire, he saw it.

If you didn't, God help you.

Being an outsider allowed him to look at the Bulls with a more discerning eye than other former members of the organization did. He was blunt, and he cared. It could be a wonderful, devastating combination on the air.

If you want to get a sense of that, go to YouTube.com and search for Norm Van Lier. There are a few classic rants about players who lack heart. Heart -- he knew all about that, inside and out.

Goodbye, Stormin' Norman.

Van Lier's highlights

*Led NBA in total assists (832) and assists per game (10.1) in 1970-71.

*Three-time first-team all-defense (1973-74, '75-76, '76-77).

*Averaged 13.9 points, 6.2 assists in 38 playoff games, all with Bulls.

*Three-time NBA All-Star: 1974, '76, '77.

Van Lier at a glance

Name: Norman Allen Van Lier III.

Born: April 1, 1947.

Hometown: East Liverpool, Ohio.

College: St. Francis, Pa.

Ht: 6-1. Wt: 173.

Drafted: Bulls' fifth pick of third round in 1969 draft.*

Career averages %% YR TEAM G MIN PPG RPG APG

1969-70 Cin 81 35.7 9.5 5.0 6.2

1970-71 Cin 82 40.5 16.0 7.1 10.1

1971-72 Cin/Blls 79 30.6 11.5 4.5 6.9

1972-73 Bulls 80 36.0 13.9 5.5 7.1

1973-74 Bulls 80 35.8 14.3 4.7 6.9

1974-75 Bulls 70 37.0 15.0 4.7 5.8

1975-76 Bulls 76 39.8 12.6 5.4 6.6

1976-77 Bulls 82 37.8 10.2 4.5 7.8

1977-78 Bulls 78 32.4 7.3 3.6 6.8

1978-79 Milw 38 14.6 2.8 1.1 4.2

Totals 74.6 35.1 11.8 4.8 7.0

Playoffs (5 yrs) 38 40.8 13.9 5.0 6.2

All-Star Games 3 12.3 1.7 1.0 1.0

*-Traded to Cincinnati; reacquired in season

%%

CAREER TOTALS

Games: 746. Points: 8,770.

Field goals: 3,313 of 8,003 (41.4 pct.).

Free throws: 2,144 of 2,749 (78 pct.).

Steals: 767. Turnovers: 249.

Rebounds: 3,596. Fouls: 2,661.

rmorrissey@tribune.com

Norman Vanlier