The Larry and Magic Effect

 (an excerpt from Chapter 17, Saviors)

Hype surrounding collegiate mega-stars had helped revitalize the NBA before, most notably with Chamberlain, Abdul-Jabbar, and Walton.  Each player eventually led his respective team to a championship, but none created anything close to a Russell-era dynasty. Chamberlain played eight seasons before securing a title with Philadelphia. Abdul-Jabbar delivered early in Milwaukee, but not until Oscar Robertson joined the lineup; the Lakers had yet to win a title during his tenure in LA. Walton brought a Championship to Portland his third season, but became estranged with the team for the way its doctors handled his injury during the 1978 playoffs and sat out the entire 1978-79 season. He was traded to the Clippers in May 1979, but re-injured the navicular bone in his foot during an exhibition and wound up playing only 14 games in 1979-80.[1]

Expectations for the Bird – Magic age differed greatly. Neither was a big man expected to dominate the game with a physical presence in the middle. Rather, they would arrive in the NBA as complimentary players, expected to make their existing teammates better. It had taken thirty years, but the essence of Dr. Naismith’s game had finally found its way to the NBA.

Nearly as important to the league was the newcomers’ style off the basketball court, as there was much more to the Larry – Magic story than statistics alone. Both had similar backgrounds: they grew up in large Midwestern families with meager, two-parent incomes.  Nothing came easy for either, yet each was driven to his own sense of perfection. The two shared a simplistic philosophy in regards to achieving that goal: practice makes perfect. Finally, they chose to further their educations, learning the importance of structure and teamwork via the collegiate game. In a nutshell, Magic Johnson and Larry Bird epitomized everything the NBA wanted its league to represent.

Alas, nothing is ever perfect. While pro basketball had long abandoned race as an issue—by 1980, more than 80% of NBA players were black—it would be naïve to assume the same was true of sports fans across the nation. Of the four major pro sports—basketball, football, baseball, and hockey—only basketball featured such a lopsided racial composition in favor of African Americans. Naysayers who feared such a disparity would cause repercussions at the box office pointed to the recent decrease in league attendance as proof their claim had merit. Some players fueled the argument themselves by siding with Kermit Washington, suggesting he would not have been treated as harshly by the league for causing the injuries to Rudy Tomjonivich had both men been white.

Fans who chose to align themselves on either side of such issues were quick to stamp a racial emphasis on the Bird – Magic rivalry. Some went so far as to refer to Larry as “the Great White Hope,” a reference to Jim Jeffries, the retired Heavyweight Champ coaxed out of retirement in 1910 by racist whites with the explicit hope he could defeat World title-holder Jack Johnson, an African American.  As stated earlier, Johnson’s victory incited a wave of racial violence, prompting some congressmen to push for a ban on the sport. Boxing survived of course, but its image remained tarnished for many years.

Fortunately for the NBA, whatever racial overtones focused on Magic vs. Bird did not reflect negatively on the league. Most hoop fans, black and white, wanted to see Bird flourish with the Celtics and Magic revitalize the Lakers for the good of the game. Likewise, the NBA eagerly awaited the positive media attention its high profile, cross-country rookies would generate. Publicity wise, the battered league needed all the help it could get. Cable television was still in its infancy. ESPN, billing itself as the Total Sports Network, launched in September 1979 and relied on college and amateur sports to fill its early programming schedule. The pro game remained dependent on network television, newspapers, and word of mouth to draw fans to arenas. As expected, Magic and Larry delivered on all fronts.  Johnson’s exuberant smile and Bird’s diligent, blue collar work ethic symbolized exactly the type of role models Commissioner O’Brien wanted to present to the general public so it would once again view the NBA as wholesome, family entertainment.

Naturally the addition of its two prize rookies remained the focus of the NBA’s 1979-80 season, but the league also incorporated several new rules that had an immediate impact on the game. By far the most important of these was the 3-point field goal. Owners had been going back and forth on the idea for years and remained divided as to whether it would add anything to the game short of desperation shots at the end of quarters. But others saw its obvious potential: a way to move scoring away from the basket, thus encouraging and rewarding less physical play. Another proposal that had remained on the fence for several years—adding a third official—was approved on a trial basis. In an attempt to increase local rivalries, schedules were realigned so that teams within the same division played each other more often.

The 3-point shot did not live up to its hype that first year, at least insofar as shooting percentage was concerned, but Magic and Larry more than delivered on their end.  

Boston saw the most dramatic improvement of any team in NBA history. Cellar dwellers the previous season at 29-53, it won the Atlantic Division with a league best 61-21 record, a 32-game jump. [2] Bird joined third-year man Cedric Maxwell and longtime veteran Dave Cowens on the Celtic frontline. The “small” rookie forward contributed 21.3 points, 4.5 assists, and 10.4 rebounds per game for the Celtics. The men in green swept Houston in the semifinals, winning by an average of 18.5 points per game, but ran out of gas when they got to the Conference Finals and fell to Philadelphia in five.

Although Los Angeles had never sunk to the abyss of its Boston rival, the acquisition of Abdul-Jabbar had not returned the Lakers to Championship status either. Magic’s arrival was expected to change that, and the 20-year-old from Michigan showed no sign of disappointing. The Lakers improved from 47-35 to 60-22 and disposed of their Western playoff opponents, Phoenix and Seattle, with consecutive 4-1 series victories. Kareem, finally playing with a talented passer again, won league MVP for the sixth time, surpassing Bill Russell’s previous record of five. The Lakers had not made it to the Finals since Abdul-Jabbar’s arrival in 1975-76. Its last appearance had been as defending Champs in 1973, a series they lost 4-1 to the Knicks.

The 76ers squad that took Walton’s Trail Blazers to six games in 1977 remained basically intact less George McGinnis, who had moved on to Denver. The high-flying Julius Erving (26.9 pts, 7.4 rebs, 4.6 asts) was still in near prime form at age 29, but the 76ers were hardly a one-man show. Darrel Dawkins and Caldwell Jones had matured into solid frontline players, averaging a combined 22 points and 20.6 rebounds per game, while former ABA defensive specialist Bobby Jones gave the team a lift off the bench. The 76ers also featured second year Maurice Cheeks, who was fast evolving into one of the league’s best point guards under the tutelage of Coach Billy Cunningham. (All Star guard Doug Collins was still on the team, but a knee injury kept him out of the playoffs.)

Likewise, L.A. was more than Kareem (24.8 pts, 10.8 rebs, 4.5 asts) and Magic (18 pts, 7.2 rebs, 7.3 asts). The club’s supporting cast featured one of the game’s top small forwards in Jamaal (formerly Keith) Wilkes, then in his third year with the Lakers. Norm Nixon started beside Magic in the backcourt, but Johnson often moved to power forward to make room for sixth man Michael Cooper. Together, the threesome averaged nearly 44 points and 18 assists per game. Veterans Spencer Haywood and Jim Chones helped Abdul-Jabbar upfront.

The much-anticipated series was a draw after four, with each club having secured a victory on its opponent’s court. Game 5 in Los Angeles lived up to pre-game hype with a nail-biter that saw the home team up by two as the third quarter wound down. But then the unexpected happened: Kareem twisted an ankle and headed for the locker room amid a suddenly hushed Forum crowd. Fans relaxed as he returned in the fourth quarter to score 14, giving him 40 points on the night, including the go-ahead basket with 33 seconds remaining on the clock.

Abdul-Jabbar’s heroics proved costly, however; he was unavailable for Game 6 in Philadelphia two nights later. When Coach Westhead asked Magic to take over at center, a position Earvin had not played since high school, the rookie assured him it would be no problem. “Never fear,” he told anxious teammates on the flight to Philly, “E.J. is here.”[i]

No one gave the Lakers a chance on the opponents’ court without Kareem—no one except a confident young rookie named Magic Johnson. Earvin switched from center to forward to guard throughout the game, depending on what the team needed at any particular time—a position he would later refer to as CFG-Rover. When the final buzzer sounded, the Rover had scored a game-high 42 points, including 14 for14 at the free throw line and nine straight down the stretch to seal a 123-107 Laker win. “Amazing,” Erving said of Magic’s game. “Unreal.”[ii] An impressed Doug Collins added, “I knew he was good, but I never realized he was great.”[iii]  Johnson played 47 of the game’s 48 minutes. His line included seven assists, three steals, a blocked shot, and 15 rebounds, earning him a spot in NBA history as the first rookie to win Finals MVP. His game that night is often referred to as the best single performance in NBA Finals history. After the game, a smiling Earvin said of his achievement: “If it weren’t for the big fella, we wouldn’t even be here.”[iv] Speaking directly into the camera, Magic encouraged Kareem, who had watched the game on television from his home in L.A., to go out and do a little dancing to celebrate.

And so it was a happy ending for the 1979-80 NBA season. Magic and Bird had supplied the initial breath of fresh air the embattled league had been gasping at for years. But experienced owners knew one successful season did not ensure a rebirth for professional basketball. As the league entered its fifth decade, the question on everyone’s mind was, could it last?