Alex Caruso, known for his gritty defense, headband swagger, and cult hero status among Los Angeles Lakers fans, has never been one to chase the spotlight. But when it comes to defending his legacy—especially the 2020 NBA championship won in the Disney World “Bubble”—Caruso isn’t afraid to poke back at doubters. Recently, the current Chicago Bulls guard added a humorous yet pointed jab to the long-running debate surrounding the legitimacy of that title, reminding everyone just how real that run was for those who lived it.
“It’s funny, man,” Caruso said during a recent podcast appearance. “People call it the Mickey Mouse ring or whatever. But I’m like, cool—go live in a hotel for three months, away from your family, with daily testing and zero fans, and let me know how fake it feels when you’re diving on the floor for loose balls in Game 6 of the Finals.”
It was vintage Caruso—honest, sarcastic, and rooted in the truth. While his words carried a dose of humor, they also underscored the emotional and physical toll that the NBA’s 2020 Bubble season demanded from its players. That summer, amid a global pandemic and a suspended season, the league created an unprecedented environment inside Walt Disney World’s ESPN Wide World of Sports Complex. There were no screaming fans, no home-court advantages, no travel. Just 22 teams, endless COVID-19 protocols, and a single mission: crown a champion.
And the Lakers, led by LeBron James and Anthony Davis, did just that. With Caruso playing a critical role off the bench—defending at a high level, igniting transition offense, and making hustle plays that don’t always show up in box scores—Los Angeles captured its 17th NBA title. For Caruso, then a relative unknown who had clawed his way from the G League to a pivotal rotation spot on a championship team, it was the ultimate validation.
Yet ever since the confetti fell, critics have sought to downplay the accomplishment. Some argue that the lack of travel and absence of hostile crowds created easier conditions. Others label it an asterisk title, suggesting it was more summer camp than championship grind. The term “Mickey Mouse ring,” coined by skeptics, has gained traction in certain corners of the basketball internet. But for players like Caruso, who lived every moment of the Bubble experience, the criticisms don’t hold water.
“People don’t realize how mentally taxing that was,” Caruso added. “Every day, the same routine, the same walls, the same cafeteria food. We couldn’t leave. There were guys losing their minds. And still, we were locked in. That wasn’t fake—that was probably harder than a normal season.”
Indeed, the Bubble required an extraordinary level of mental fortitude. Players were isolated from family and friends, subjected to daily COVID tests, and lived under strict safety measures that kept them confined to the campus. In the midst of all this, they also grappled with the social and emotional weight of national unrest following the police shooting of Jacob Blake in Wisconsin, which nearly brought the season to a halt.
Caruso, like many players, found solace and motivation in the team camaraderie that developed in the Bubble. The Lakers, bonded by their shared isolation, thrived in the unusual setting. “We were already a close group,” Caruso said. “But being in the Bubble made us tighter. No distractions. No flights. Just hoops and each other.”
His impact, though often overlooked by those who focus only on star players, was undeniable. Caruso’s defensive tenacity and basketball IQ allowed him to flourish alongside James and Davis. In the clinching Game 6 of the NBA Finals against the Miami Heat, Lakers head coach Frank Vogel inserted Caruso into the starting lineup—an acknowledgment of his value on the game’s biggest stage. Los Angeles rolled to a 106-93 victory, with Caruso providing defensive pressure and spacing that disrupted Miami’s offensive flow.
“That game still gives me chills,” he said. “Starting an NBA Finals game? That’s every kid’s dream. And we delivered.”
Despite his contributions, the legacy of that 2020 title remains a hot topic. The notion of a “fake” championship is mostly driven by rival fan bases or analysts seeking click-worthy debates. Still, for Caruso and his former Lakers teammates, the skepticism doesn’t sting—it just adds another layer of motivation.
“Look, it’s one thing if you say we had it easier because there were no travel days or hostile fans,” Caruso noted. “But to call it fake? Come on. We still had to win four rounds against elite teams, still had to guard Jimmy Butler, still had to go through Dame, Harden, Jokic. That wasn’t fake basketball. That was pure basketball.”
His perspective aligns with that of many NBA legends and analysts who’ve defended the Bubble’s integrity. In fact, some have argued that the Bubble was basketball in its purest form—free from distractions, fan pressure, and travel fatigue. It was a test of skill, discipline, and focus. And in that context, Caruso flourished.
Since leaving Los Angeles and signing with the Chicago Bulls in 2021, Caruso has continued to build his reputation as one of the league’s premier perimeter defenders. He was named to the NBA All-Defensive First Team in 2023 and has become a fan favorite in the Windy City. But no matter how far he goes in his career, that 2020 championship remains a defining moment.
“I think people forget how good that Miami team was,” Caruso said. “They weren’t some fluke. Jimmy was playing out of his mind, Bam was a beast, they had shooters everywhere. And we took care of business. I’m proud of that. I’ll always be proud of that.”
His pride, however, doesn’t mean he takes the criticism too seriously. In typical Caruso fashion, he leans into the jokes while making sure the truth shines through. When asked if he’s bothered by the “Mickey Mouse ring” label, Caruso chuckled. “Nah, I just tell people, ‘If it was so easy, why didn’t your team win it?’”
It’s a fair question—and one that cuts to the heart of the debate. The reality is that every NBA champion faces unique challenges, whether it’s injuries, schedule quirks, or global pandemics. The Bubble simply presented a different kind of test—one that exposed mental weaknesses, revealed true chemistry, and rewarded teams that could block out the noise.
Caruso’s journey from an undrafted free agent to NBA champion has always been improbable. He’s never had the flashiest stats or biggest endorsement deals. But what he brings—toughness, smarts, and an unrelenting drive—can’t be faked. And neither, he insists, can that ring.
“In the end, people can say what they want,” he said. “But when I look at my finger and see that championship ring, I know what it took to earn it. And no hashtag or Twitter joke can take that away from me.”
Whether it’s years down the line or at his jersey retirement night, Caruso will continue to wear that championship like a badge of honor. Not because it came in the Bubble—but because it came from a place of commitment, sacrifice, and excellence.
So if the doubters still want to call it fake, that’s fine. Caruso will just smile, tip his cap, and remind them: he was there. He lived it. And most importantly, he won it.
