When the Game Was Ours - Larry Bird [91]
Larry Johnson was riding the bench on a junior varsity team with a record of 1–6 when Fox called them together and said, "Do I have to call up that eighth-grader Earvin Johnson from the middle school to show you guys how to bring the ball up?"
Earvin, who was already 6-foot-4, dropped 48 points on the Oddo Eskimos, a crosstown middle school rival. He entertained a packed gymnasium with behind-the-back passes and full-court jams while his brother Larry sat court-side, urging him to smash the school record of 40 points. He did so in three quarters, then sat back and watched his teammates from the bench in the final minutes.
By the time Earvin was a ninth-grader, Larry Johnson had been bounced from the high school team because of his poor attitude. When he left, he angrily told Fox, "My brother Earvin will never play for you. I'll make sure of it."
When Magic finally arrived at Everett, his initial interaction with Fox and the players was awkward. He was fiercely loyal to his brother Larry, but he also ached to play.
"I've got to do this," he told his older brother, the anguish clear in his voice.
In the beginning, Johnson's older teammates resented his abilities and, ignoring him completely, pointedly passed the ball among themselves. Yet, over time, their stance softened. Magic was too talented, too unselfish, and too charismatic to dislike.
"What they figured out," said Larry Johnson, "was if they gave Earvin the ball, he was going to give it right back."
Magic's congeniality was a gift and a blessing to a school that was struggling to maintain order in the wake of the redistricting. There were incidents throughout Johnson's tenure at Everett between white and black students, yet the gifted young ballplayer defused much of the tension by coaxing his friends into becoming like him—colorblind.
He showed up at parties held by his white teammates, even though he and his friends were often the only blacks in attendance. He convinced his white friends to listen to his soul music and coaxed the principal into setting aside a room to dance during free study periods. He organized a protest when no African American cheerleaders were picked for the school's squad, even though their talents were undeniable.
"For all his basketball skills, the biggest contribution Earvin made to Everett was race relations," said Fox. "He helped us bridge two very different cultures. He ran with the white kids, but never turned his back on the black kids. He broke down so many barriers. He was so popular the students figured, 'Hey, if Earvin is hanging out with these guys, it must be okay.'"
It was an Everett tradition that after the first practice of the season, the players ran around the basketball court until the last teammate was standing. Two years in a row, that person was Earvin Johnson. The summer before his senior season, Johnson's teammate Randy Shumway informed Fox that he was out to beat Magic. The two ran around the court for more than a half-hour as their teammates dropped by the wayside. After 45 minutes, both players were panting, clearly exhausted, yet neither was willing to quit. Fox was contemplating how he should break the stalemate when he noticed Johnson whispering in Shumway's ear. The two did one more lap together before Magic announced, "That's it, Coach. We're calling it a draw."
"Earvin could have outlasted him," said Fox, "but he knew it would be better for team morale if he didn't."
Although Johnson was the hardest-working player Fox had ever seen, he was not above challenging his coach. In Magic's sophomore season, Everett played in a holiday tournament against Battle Creek Central; the players were told to be at the school at a designated hour, and not a minute later. As the team filed onto the bus, their best player, the notoriously tardy Earvin Johnson, was missing. Fox took a deep breath, then instructed the bus driver, "Let's