When the Game Was Ours - Larry Bird [94]
"I never did understand what Pat Riley's problem was. It was a harmless thing. It was good for the league, good for their image, and good for both of our franchises."
Jones had an intimate knowledge of such rivalries, since he had played alongside Bill Russell during his epic battles with Wilt Chamberlain. When the Celtics played in Philadelphia, Russell often spent the day with Chamberlain—even took a nap in his bed—but when it was game time, all that hospitality was forgotten.
"We'd get on the court, and Russ would look through Wilt as if he wasn't there," Jones said. "I knew Larry would be the same way."
Following the commercial, Magic anticipated a more civil reunion when he saw Bird before their rare regular season meetings.
"I still wanted to beat the Celtics in the worst way," Magic said. "I still wanted to take away what Larry Bird had. But now, after the game, I found myself saying, 'Hey, let's go have a beer.'"
Bird's answer, however, did not change from previous years: thanks, but no thanks. Their relationship changed that afternoon in West Baden, but he still wasn't willing to socialize with the one player who stood in the way of every single basketball goal he'd set for himself and the Celtics.
"I could separate the guy who sat in my basement and told me all about his family from the guy who was wearing a Lakers jersey and trying to keep us from winning a championship," Bird said. "It was easy, to be honest."
The slogan "Choose Your Weapon" eventually became dated and politically incorrect. According to Jack Green, the name of a subsequent campaign for Phoenix Suns star Kevin Johnson, originally "Run and Gun," was scrapped and the campaign renamed "Run and Slam" after urban groups voiced their opposition. The "violent nature" of the wording ultimately killed the Weapon campaign.
Yet the success of the concept convinced Nike to invest millions in a young megastar they nicknamed Air Jordan. The spectacular young Bulls star turned the Oregon-based shoe company into a major player in the athletic industry.
Because their schedules were so busy and because they lived on different coasts, the karma between Magic and Larry on that beautiful fall afternoon was never again re-created on camera. Yet the residual effect of their time together was an unspoken, shared understanding of the blessings and burdens of carrying a franchise.
"I would have never guessed how it would turn out," Bird conceded. "If we had never done that commercial, I doubt we ever would have sat down and talked like we did. We may never have gotten to know each other."
The commercial aired throughout the 1985–86 season, which began with Bird continuing to labor through severe back pain. By the end of the exhibition season, Bird was contemplating shutting it down for the year. The pain was nauseating, and the stiffness limited every aspect of his game. Dr. Silva brought in a physical therapist named Dan Dyrek to examine him. Dyrek discussed surgery, an option Bird quickly dismissed. They talked about rest and treatment, and Bird agreed to half of that course of action.
"I'll do the treatment," he said, "but I'm not missing any games."
For the next three months, Dyrek worked on Bird's back, attempting to alleviate the pressure of the compressed nerves. After every practice, the forward would drive to Dyrek's office for an hour (or more) of treatment. He religiously did a series of exercises that helped his mobility, but shooting a basketball remained problematic for the first ten weeks of the season. By the New Year, however, the treatment finally paid dividends.
Once Bird regained his touch, the Boston Celtics were brimming with Career Best Efforts of their own. The Big Three of Bird, McHale, and Parish was in its prime, and D.J. and Ainge had established themselves as reliable fixtures in the backcourt.
Auerbach asked Maxwell to come early to rookie camp to reclaim his place in the team