When the Game Was Ours - Larry Bird [15]
"Nobody told us to do it," Bird said. "We just did. We were stealing the ball and scoring on them like crazy. Then all of a sudden Hall just blew the whistle and stopped the drill. He was mad. Next thing you know, we're on to something else. He didn't seem very happy with us."
In their final game against the Soviets, which the Americans won handily, 102–87, Bird and Magic brought the fans out of their seats with their sizzling back-and-forth exchange. It was a snippet of brilliance, at least half of which Hall publicly acknowledged when the tournament was over. Pressed on how he chose his starting quintet of Macy, Robey, Givens, Moncrief, and Bailey over the talent he had on his roster, Hall said, "We felt that was our best unit. But today Magic came in with his road show and he blew them out of the press. He's a sensational player and real fine young man."
Moncrief and Givens were named to the All-Tournament team, while two Kentucky boys, Robey (20.0 minutes) and Macy (18.7 minutes) were among the team leaders in minutes played. Bird and Magic left content—they had made their mark in the privacy of the workout sessions.
"It's too bad we didn't play more," said Magic. "We were the crowd favorites. I'm not sure people had ever seen players like Larry and me."
Although they generated a large measure of respect for each other, the two players departed without having a single meaningful conversation. They arrived as strangers and left as mere acquaintances.
Eleven months later they met again, with the NCAA national championship—and their college legacy—on the line.
2. MARCH 25, 1979
Salt Lake City, Utah
THE DOOR TO THE gymnasium creaked open, unleashing a rush of disquieting noises. First it was a burst of boisterous laughter, then a thunderous commotion of bodies clomping toward the entrance.
Magic Johnson and his Michigan State teammates turned in unison to see who dared to interrupt Coach Jud Heathcote in midsentence, in mid-strategy, as he reviewed his team's defensive assignments for the final time in preparation for their NCAA basketball championship game.
The Spartans were down at the far end of the gym, huddled around their coach and a full-court heave away from the distractions that had punctuated their session, yet even from that distance the interlopers were unmistakable: the Indiana State basketball team, clad in jeans, boots, and ten-gallon cowboy hats.
The first person Magic looked for was their star, Larry Bird. He was amazed to see him standing there, his hat slightly askew.
Indiana State was scheduled to hold a shoot-around immediately following Michigan State's workout, but the allotted time for the Spartans had not yet expired. The ISU players knew that, but guard Carl Nicks said, "Let's go in there and watch practice and flaunt our stuff. Let's let them know we're here."'
There was an instant when the two basketball teams, one day away from playing in the most widely anticipated college title game ever, simply stood frozen in place and studied one another in silence.
Yet that moment was swiftly obliterated by the screeches of Heathcote once he checked his wristwatch and realized the Sycamores were encroaching on his precious practice time.
"We still have 20 minutes! You aren't supposed to be in here! Get out of my practice!" Heathcote howled.
As quickly as they materialized, Bird and his boys disappeared, slamming the door demonstratively behind them.
Magic was alternately stunned and amused by Indiana State's behavior, but Heathcote seethed for 10 minutes after the Sycamores left, teeth clenched and spittle flying.
"They don't respect you!" Heathcote roared. "They are trying to distract you! No one interrupts our practice! Do you see what they are trying to do?!"
Heathcote, who had been motivating college athletes for 15 years, recognized an opportunity when he saw one. He