When the Game Was Ours - Larry Bird [152]
Michael Jordan had seized the baton and led the league to spectacular new heights with his high-flying, jaw-dropping play. In that time, Jordan cashed in on a portfolio of endorsements that included Gatorade, McDonald's, Coca-Cola, Chevrolet, Hanes, Wheaties, and Rayovac and that was valued at hundreds of millions of dollars at its peak.
But Magic, Larry, and Michael were retired, and in 2004 the league was at a crossroads. The Lakers won three straight championships from 2000 to 2002, but were reeling from allegations of rape by a Colorado woman against their shining star, Kobe Bryant, and from a bitter feud that erupted between Bryant and superstar teammate Shaquille O'Neal.
LeBron James had just completed his rookie season and served notice he would figure prominently in the NBA's future, but he had not yet been ordained "King James." Though his time was surely coming, LeBron's accomplishments, like those of his NBA peers, were about to be dwarfed by the bedlam in Auburn Hills.
"It was the worst thing I'd ever seen," Magic said. "Like watching a car wreck. We're supposed to cherish the fans—no matter what. They say bad things all the time. They throw things and you deal with it and you go home, and it's a new day."
Not this time. The line had been crossed, and the results were teetering on catastrophic. In an unprecedented decision, the referees canceled the final 45.9 seconds of the game. As the Indiana players tried to leave the court, they were pelted with cups, popcorn, batteries, and beer. The Indiana Pacers and the Detroit Pistons, by Magic's calculations, had just set the NBA back ten years.
"Poor Larry," Magic said to Cookie. "This has got to be his worst nightmare."
Within minutes, Bird was on the line with Rick Carlisle, his friend and former teammate who was now the head coach of the Pacers.
"There's cops everywhere," Carlisle told Bird. "It's chaos here."
"Do you have someone with Ronny?" Bird asked.
"Yes, he's surrounded by security," Carlisle reported. "We're getting on the bus and getting the hell out of here. I think we'll be all right."
As Bird hung up the phone and dialed Walsh, who was attending a wedding in New York, he knew the Pacers would not be all right. He recognized a bona-fide disaster when he saw one.
Bill Walton, who was in Auburn Hills to broadcast the game, somberly informed his audience, "This is the lowest moment in my 30 years of the NBA."
While Bird understood the magnitude of what had just occurred, even he couldn't have forecasted how devastating it would be to his franchise.
Commissioner David Stern was out to eat with friends when he was interrupted by a flurry of urgent phone calls. He found the nearest television set and returned to his table, grim-faced. Dinner was over.
So were the championship hopes of Larry Bird and the Indiana Pacers.
Reggie Miller had been injured and wearing street clothes the night Artest whacked Ben Wallace and ignited the worst brawl in NBA history. One of the many things Bird revisited in the wake of the incident was how it might have been different had Miller been in uniform and able to convince Artest to come off the scorer's table.
The morning after the fight, the condemnations began in earnest. This was not just a SportsCenter topic; World News Tonight, CNN, and the Wall Street Journal weighed in. In interviews, Magic Johnson, his voice stern, called for lengthy suspensions of Artest, Jackson, and O'Neal.
"Thanks, buddy," said Bird, as Johnson declared that the Indiana players had "destroyed all the goodwill that Larry and Michael and myself have built up through the years."
Commissioner David Stern handed down sanctions that were unprecedented: Artest was suspended for the remainder of the season, which amounted