When the Game Was Ours - Larry Bird [32]
Unlike most of America, which was forced to watch the game on tape delay because no major network was willing to run the NBA Finals in prime time during its sweeps period, Bird watched the game in real time. He had a friend in the television business who arranged for a live feed to be pumped into the restaurant.
As he lamented his own rookie season, which he felt ended prematurely at the hands of Julius Erving and the Sixers, Bird admitted to his buddies he was curious how Magic would fare. He knew by charting Magic's productive box scores that he had become LA's everyman, yet even so, when Bird saw his rival step into the circle for the opening tap, he guffawed.
"You gotta be kidding me," Bird said. "Magic can't jump!"
Johnson didn't win the tip, but that was the only moment when his game fell short that evening. He was a catalyst offensively, driving the lane and knocking down fallaways. He was an agitator defensively, using his strong body to knock Philly off the ball. He was, as always, the most expressive player on the floor. He led Los Angeles on a 7–0 run to start the game and never looked back.
"I found myself rooting for him even though I didn't like him," Bird said.
Although the game was tied 60–60 at halftime, Johnson was buoyant. Chones, as promised, was thwarting Dawkins. The Sixers, as Magic predicted, were flummoxed by the Lakers' new lineup. When Johnson started hitting shots over Caldwell Jones, they switched Erving onto him. Then they tried Bobby Jones. It didn't matter. None of them could derail Earvin Johnson's momentum.
"I knew exactly how Magic was feeling," Bird said. "There are times when you get it going and you are in this incredible place, this zone, where you are controlling the game. You feel no matter what you try, it's going to work. It's the greatest feeling in the world, because no one can stop you.
"And nobody was going to stop Magic that night."
The Lakers won the title with a 123–107 victory. Magic was an NBA champion on his first try, without his captain, a future Hall of Famer, in the lineup. He logged 47 out of a possible 48 minutes, was a perfect 14 of 14 from the free throw line, and finished with 42 points, 15 rebounds, and 7 assists.
It was an unprecedented performance. Johnson was the youngest Finals MVP in history and the first rookie ever to win the award.
Bird witnessed Magic's brilliance with conflicting emotions. He marveled at his ability and his poise under pressure, but was also overcome with envy. He left the bar feeling unsettled.
"I was jealous and ticked off, but at the same time I was in total awe of what he had done," Bird said.
By the time he arrived home, Bird had calmed down—until he watched Johnson's highlights on the news and became agitated all over again.
"Damn," Bird said. "I've got to win one of these things [championships]. This guy's got two in a row. He's making me look bad."
Earvin "Magic" Johnson had a knack for making things look easy, yet his decision to turn professional and subsequent indoctrination with the vaunted Lakers was stressful, emotional, and, in the beginning, painfully lonely.
Magic was a pleaser, and in the spring of 1979, while he was still plucking confetti from Michigan State's championship victory parade out of his afro, his Spartan teammates were already pleading with him, "C'mon, man. Stay with us. Let's go for two championships."
For a moment, he was legitimately tempted. Johnson had two seasons of eligibility left, loved being "the Magic Man" on campus, and felt the Spartans could repeat as champions if he stayed in school. Yet the lure of the NBA was irresistible.
Greg Kelser was graduating and had already hired an agent who promoted himself, in part, by saying he had done some work for NBA star Julius Erving.
Erving was one of Magic's idols. Dr. J signed with the Virginia Squires of the ABA after leaving the University of Massachusetts early and had