When the Game Was Ours - Larry Bird [44]
Abdul-Jabbar, who had carried the Lakers for six seasons, was particularly insulted by Magic's windfall. The morning after the contract was announced, Kareem wondered aloud in the papers, "What is he, player or management? We don't know."
Johnson's new deal was a problem—a big problem. An irate Nixon met him in the hallway and said, "Buck, what's going on? The guys are talking. They say you are hanging all the time with Buss. That's a no-no in this business."
"I didn't know that," Magic said. "Dr. Buss is my friend."
"Players and management don't hang out together," Nixon said.
"Hey, I'm hanging with Dr. Buss. That boat has already sailed," Magic replied.
"Well, I'm just telling you, we don't know how to take you," Nixon continued. "If something is said in the locker room, we don't know if you are going to take it back."
"What are you talking about, Norm?" Magic said incredulously. "I've already been in your locker room for two years. Has anything we've said gotten back to Dr. Buss?"
Nixon shrugged. For the next couple of weeks, Magic was on an island. The only player he trusted was Cooper, who was busy fighting for a niche on the team. Magic wasn't the only player who chafed at Westhead's style. Neither Wilkes nor Nixon liked it either, but only the young buck spoke his mind.
Magic's frustration spilled over on November 18, 1981, in Salt Lake City. The Lakers were in the middle of a tight game with the Utah Jazz when Westhead called time-out. As the team gathered in the huddle, Magic began talking about the miscues of the previous two plays and how the Lakers could correct their mistakes.
"Magic," Westhead said, "be quiet and pay attention."
"We're just going over what we need to do," Magic said.
"I don't want to hear anything out of your mouth," Westhead retorted. "That's your problem. You talk too much."
Johnson flinched. He turned away from the huddle and moved toward the water cooler.
"Get back here!" Westhead hissed. "You're busting the system. You're not doing your job."
Cooper ushered his friend back into the huddle. "Forget about it, Buck," Cooper said. "Just play."
Los Angeles hung on to win 113–110. As Magic walked off the court, his coach was waiting for him in the hallway. Westhead pulled him into the coach's room and warned him, "You better get with it, or we're going to have problems."
"You've stopped us from running, and you're blaming me," Magic said. "The other guys don't want to tell you, but they don't like playing this way either."
The argument escalated. Reporters lingered in the hallway, capturing the scene. Johnson emerged from the office and angrily kicked the water cooler in the hallway. Then he went back to his locker and announced he wanted to be traded.
Pat Riley witnessed all of it. He knew tensions were building between Westhead and Johnson. He could sense Magic's frustration with playing a slower pace, and he knew Westhead's patience had been running thin with the outspoken guard.
"I should have gotten involved," Riley said. "Maybe I could have stopped it. It was an awkward situation. I loved Earvin, but I was working for Paul."
When the team returned to Los Angeles the next morning, both West and Buss were waiting for Magic. They told him that his decision to go public with his complaints was inappropriate and immature. Then they told him they had fired Westhead, something West had been planning to do anyway.
Magic was relieved. The team played San Antonio at home the next night, and he wanted to get back to Showtime. In a curious arrangement, Riley, whom he liked and trusted, was named the head coach—but West would be moving down to the bench to help him as a "consultant."
On the night of November 20, Johnson arrived earlier than normal to the Forum in case Riley wanted to review any game details. He was anxious for a new start and couldn't wait for the game to begin.
"I was thinking everything was back to normal," Magic said.
The boos started the moment he joined the lay-up line. Magic glanced around to see who they were directed toward.