When the Game Was Ours - Larry Bird [103]
Yet Kareem continued to be an enigma. While at times he could be outgoing, even playful, those moments were offset by the more frequent occasions when he was difficult, standoffish. On those days, Johnson wrestled with whether he should call out the captain for his temperamental nature. If any other player had caused that kind of friction on the team, Magic would have admonished him. But Abdul-Jabbar was different. Keeping him happy required a delicate balance of respect and distance. It was indisputable that the team was more successful when their center was engaged and focused.
As far as his teammate could figure, there were two Abdul-Jabbars: the genuine, elegant, articulate man who brought Magic to tears at his retirement ceremony with his heartfelt remarks, and the bitter, stubborn man who snubbed Riley at his Hall of Fame induction.
"Thank God Kareem was my teammate, because I used to cringe at the way he treated people," Magic said. "There was a way to say no if you didn't want to sign an autograph. You could say, 'I'm busy right now,' or, 'Sorry, not today.' But Kareem didn't do it in a very kind way. Sometimes he'd have people in tears. It's hurt him now that he's done playing."
More than a decade after both men retired, Kareem approached Magic to learn more about Johnson's business acumen. Abdul-Jabbar had struggled to find his niche since he stopped playing, and he was looking to Magic, who had made millions off the court, for advice.
"I want to be like you," the center said.
Magic shook his head.
"No, you don't," Johnson answered. "To be like me, you've got to shake hands, hug people, attend luncheons. You've got to be nice to people all the time. You've got to make small talk. You've got to be on."
"Well, maybe I can do it another way," Abdul-Jabbar said.
"There is no other way," Magic explained. "You have to be cordial. You can't treat your teammates without any courtesy, or humiliate reporters, or blow off fans."
Magic shared a story with Abdul-Jabbar that happened in his second season in the pros and resonated with him for a decade. The Lakers were finishing up a pregame shoot-around when a man and his young son timidly approached Abdul-Jabbar and asked, "Kareem, can we please get a picture?"
"No," Abdul-Jabbar snapped, without breaking stride.
Magic, standing nearby, could see the young boy was crushed. Johnson was not yet an All-Star, an MVP, or a household name, although he was well on his way to accomplishing all of that. He walked over to the father and said, "How about a picture with me?"
As the grateful father lined up the shot, Magic joked, "Maybe I'll be in the Hall of Fame someday too."
Twenty-two years later, Johnson sat in a boardroom representing Magic Johnson Enterprises with hopes of generating some new business. After he made his pitch, an older gentleman approached him.
"We met before, a long, long time ago," the gentleman said. "You posed for a picture with my son. Kareem blew us off, but you were very nice."
The son was a grown man, a successful attorney in Los Angeles. His father was the CEO of the company Magic was soliciting.
"My son is 29 years old now," the man said, "and he still has that picture on his wall."
As Magic walked out of the meeting with a new multimillion-dollar client in his portfolio, he thought to himself, "See, Kareem? It could have been you."
Although his introspective personality was a mystery to Magic and the Lakers, Abdul-Jabbar handled his diminished role with dignity in 1986–87. He passed the mantle to Magic without complaint, remained a key member of the team's nucleus, and on any given day could submit a vintage Abdul-Jabbar night, sweeping hook and all.
"When he was on top of his game, no one could touch him," Magic said.
Riley was banking on Abdul-Jabbar and Magic to seamlessly carry his team onward together. The addition of Thompson provided LA with the added depth and younger legs in the front court.