When the Game Was Ours - Larry Bird [85]
Their individual contracts with Converse had required previous joint commitments at industry shows, company meetings, and occasional private corporate outings. Magic, Julius Erving, and Bird were commissioned to appear at a golf outing in Connecticut once and while Johnson didn't play, he toured the course in a cart with clients, regaling them with NBA anecdotes.
"Dr. J and I were chatting away, having fun," said Magic. "Larry was hitting the golf ball and ignoring us completely."
It was a time when athletic endorsements were still relatively rare, and savvy companies were just beginning to launch their new lines using sports personalities. During the 1984 Olympic Games in Los Angeles, for instance, Nike plastered the city with billboards of its shoes using five-time Pro Bowl safety Lester Hayes of the Oakland Raiders as the face of its product.
Three months into his job as Converse's advertising manager, Lou Nagy was sent to New York to oversee a commercial with Bird, Magic, and Dr. J at Manhattan College. It was a traditional shoot featuring the three stars discussing how the Converse Pro sneakers made them better players, and it was slated to run only in the top ten television markets in the country.
The trip was memorable to Nagy for one reason in particular. The night before the taping, Converse hosted a dinner at the Hyatt Regency in New York City for the players. Bird and a friend from French Lick showed up wearing jeans and windbreakers. The restaurant enforced a dress code that required a sport coat. Nagy assured Bird that he would find him a blazer, but as soon as he went inside to rustle one up, the Celtics star disappeared into the city streets.
"At least he showed up for the shoot the next day," said Nagy.
As Magic's and Bird's careers continued to blossom—and interconnect—Converse senior vice president Jack Green determined that the best way to capitalize on the rivalry was to accentuate their differences. The "Weapon" campaign would not be a commercial featuring two rivals walking arm in arm, he explained. Instead, Converse would highlight the fierce competition between the two.
"It wasn't going to be cutesy," Green said. "We wanted it to be unique, but a very basketball-oriented ad. That appealed to Larry in particular."
When presented with that story line, Johnson warmed to the idea. Bird, clearly the more reluctant of the two, finally agreed to tape the commercial, but only if Magic was willing to travel to Indiana to shoot it. That stipulation, he figured, would be a deal-breaker.
He was astonished to learn later that Johnson agreed to the terms.
"The more I thought about it, I just thought it would be something that could be great for both of us," Magic said. "Did I want to go all the way out to West Baden, Indiana? No. But it became pretty clear that was the only way it was going to get done."
The production crew descended on Bird's property a few days in advance of Magic's arrival to set up their equipment and frame the backdrop they wanted. The day before the commercial was to be shot, Converse executives received a phone call from Charles Tucker, Johnson's agent. Both Magic's and Larry's contracts were up, and he informed them that the two players had decided their compensation wasn't lucrative enough. The two were prepared to hold out for more money. Larry, who had a close relationship with Converse executive Al Harden, told him to take care of Magic immediately, and he'd trust Harden to pay his portion later. Their demands were not that exorbitant—about an extra $15,000 each—and with the shoot already running up a bill of $180,000 a day, Converse capitulated.
When Johnson and his cadre of limousines arrived at Bird's summer home, the first to greet him was Larry's mother, Georgia Bird. She was a devoted basketball fan whose interests did not lie solely with her son's Celtics. Born and raised in Indiana, she faithfully chronicled the college game and her favorite player, Isiah Thomas, the former college star