Inside Moves

by

Pete Croatto

Sports evolve. The style of play changes; new equipment and rules enter the realm. Players get bigger, faster, and stronger. In basketball, Elgin Baylor paved the way for Julius Erving and David Thompson who gave way to Michael Jordan and, later, Kobe Bryant. Now, LeBron James, who at 6'8" and 250 chiseled pounds of fluid, volatile athleticism, is the latest point on the developmental chart. 

It’s doubtful that someone will come along like Magic Johnson and Larry Bird, who not only saved a professional league but helped to make it a global, multi-billion dollar commodity. Say what you want about Jordan, but Magic and Bird provided the audience for him to shell sports drinks and sneakers. And regardless of LeBron’s freakish abilities and Kobe’s scoring touch, Magic and Bird might be the last basketball stars the public could relate to. They couldn’t jump out of the gym; they didn’t have bodies built by Atlas. The guys were all about hard work, getting teammates involved, and doing the little things. Don’t let Magic’s fancy passing and Hollywood smile fool you. I remember Magic’ longtime coach Pat Riley saying that he grasped the fundamentals better than anyone.

In the 1980s, a father could teach his children the game from Celtics and Lakers games. “Larry and Magic are still the only two guys I know who could take ten or eleven shots [a low number] and still dominate the game,” said Kevin McHale, Bird’s legendary teammate. Added Magic’s longtime teammate Kurt Rambis: “The characteristic that set them apart was their willingness to let someone else hit the winning shot. They didn’t need to do it themselves.”

What can kids learn from James: To pray for the genetic roll of the dice that allows someone to dunk from the free-throw line?

Bird and Johnson are also linked together because they came of age in the public eye together, starting by facing each other in the now-storied 1979 NCAA championship. They started their professional careers at the same time, meeting in three NBA Finals during the 1980s. In all, their teams won eight NBA championships in the 1980s. Their rivalry (undoubtedly heightened by the fact that Bird is white, and Magic is black) and their skill set provided a can’t-miss storyline. “Having two team-oriented superstars like them really helped save our game,” said Doug Collins, who’s been involved in the NBA as a player, coach, and broadcaster since 1973.

It’s fitting that both men now have a book, When the Game Was Ours, a title that reeks of two legends recollecting about when they were kings. Written by Jackie MacMullan of ESPN fame, the book is actually a third-person account of Magic and Larry’s basketball lives, with the two men providing quotes and insight. The result is an immensely readable overview for anyone who wants to learn why these guys matter that’s also filled with enough behind-the-scenes gossip to satisfy readers familiar with the legend. It’s a masterful compromise of a book, and I mean that in the best way possible.

MacMullan, thankfully, doesn’t delve into ponderous accounts and recollections of greatness. Instead, she traces Bird and Magic’s history as ballplayers and their commitment to their occupation, relying on interviews with nearly 100 sources. After a playoff sweep in 1983, Bird’s off-season workout consisted of shooting 800 step-back jumpers a day and running five miles uphill. (To say that Bird played in pain is like saying The Great Gatsby is a book about rich people.) Following a loss to the Celtics in the 1984 Finals, practices for Magic’s Lakers resembled one long rugby scrum. And, yes, both men followed each other in the papers. For a while, they hated each other.

She explains how the two players’ marketing appeal, coupled with forward-thinking NBA commissioner David Stern, began the sport’s metamorphosis from a black sport into a big business. We see the bitter rivals build a friendship namely because Larry’s mom, Georgia, loved Magic as a ballplayer and welcomed him during a commercial shoot with Bird in his native Indiana. We see how Magic’s acquisition of the HIV virus changed the social landscape (Magic had to be reminded that he didn’t have AIDS, while many thought he’d soon be dead.) And we learn that even legends can get the cold shoulder. In his ill-fated stint as a head coach, Magic finds the players tuning him out and ignoring his requests to hone their skills. As a front office executive with the Celtics, Bird’s suggestions are routinely ignored.

Perhaps because Magic and Bird are so secure in their legacy they’re happy to go beyond publicist-approved anecdotes. Magic slams his one-time best friend Isiah Thomas for his “petty decisions” and jealousy and teammate Kareem Abdul-Jabbar for his churlish demeanor, which made life after basketball difficult. Give credit to MacMullan for also revealing some tremendous side stories. In the early 1980s, the NBA All-Star Game was such a dud that Stern gave away tickets while the headline performer for the players’ banquet one year was Jonathan friggin’ Winters. During a game of pool in Barcelona during the 1992 Olympics, Bird and Magic argue with Jordan (fresh off winning the second of his six titles) about whose team is best, and eventually who is the best one-on-one player. “I’ve taken it [the NBA] to a new level,” Jordan, a vicious competitor, tells Magic and Bird. “And it’s not your league anymore.”  

I love to see proof that there’s more to an athlete’s world than what we see on television, and Magic and Larry allow us to see the humanity behind their historical significance. The release of When the Game Was Ours and Andre Agassi’s brutally candid Open (oh, how I can’t wait to read that), shows that athlete-endorsed biographies are also evolving into a genre that’s rewarding for all readers. Game on.

Books mentioned in this column:
When the Game Was Ours by Larry Bird and Earvin “Magic” Johnson, with Jackie MacMullan (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2009)
Open: An Autobiography by Andre Agassi (Knopf, 2009)


Pete Croatto’s essays, criticism, and humor writing have appeared in MAD, Publishers Weekly, BookPage, and The (Newark) Star-Ledger. He also reviews movies for ICON and FilmCritic.com, and maintains a movie blog. Pete currently lives in central New Jersey with three bookshelves made by his dad and an overused library card. Contact Pete.