SALT LAKE CITY - The game itself might not stand out in a list of greatest college basketball games. Michigan State's 75-64 victory in the national championship game over Indiana State was, on its own, remarkable only in the ease with which the Spartans dispatched the previously unbeaten Sycamores. But the meaning and importance of the game went so far beyond the final score. With good reason, Michigan State's first championship is often called the most important game in college basketball history.
Before the Spartans and Sycamores met in Salt Lake City, college basketball was often relegated to the back-burner of American sports. Sure, the occasional game could get some extra attention, but the NCAA tournament was, for the most part, largely ignored.
That started to change in 1979. Led by senior Larry Bird - who had been drafted the previous summer by the Boston Celtics, who were willing to wait a full year to be able to actually sign him - Indiana State went on a storybook run in the 1978-79 season. Bird averaged 30 points a game for the third straight season, and the Sycamores cruised to the national championship game with a 33-0 record.
Facing them was Michigan State, led by super sophomore Magic Johnson. Johnson was a once-in-a-lifetime talent, a 6-foot-8 point guard blessed with the best passing ability anybody had ever seen. The Spartans weren't undefeated like the Sycamores, but came into the NCAA tournament on a 10-1 run. The Spartans cruised through their first four tournament games, barely breaking a sweat as they met up with Indiana State.
The championship game matchup was a dream for basketball fans and NCAA promoters alike. The two best players in the country were matched up with a championship on the line. The game ended up setting the ratings record for an NCAA basketball game, a record it still holds.
But it's what happened after the Spartans beat the Sycamores that made this game into a legend. At first, it was viewed as a matchup between Magic and Larry for a championship. Afterwards, it became merely Magic vs. Larry, part 1, as Johnson and Bird the next season began an individual rivalry unlike any the NBA had ever seen. Bird and the Celtics and Johnson on the Lakers dominated the NBA in the 1980s and received much of the credit for helping the sport gain popularity throughout the decade.
Magic vs. Larry helped shape and define the NBA in the 80s. And it all started on March evening in Salt Lake City, when they were just a pair of talented college kids.
Showing posts with label Magic Johnson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Magic Johnson. Show all posts
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
February 9, 1992: Magic act
ORLANDO, Fla. - It was a simpler time in 1992, but that's not necessarily a good thing. The previous November, when Magic Johnson dropped the HIV bombshell, many people assumed that he was basically saying "I have less than a year to live." That was just the common viewpoint. In fact, the view was so prevalent that fans voted Johnson into the starting lineup in that season's All-Star Game, even though he didn't play a game all season. Though this sentiment was never verbalized, it was seen as almost a final thank you to Magic for his great career.
Of course, knowledge about the disease being what it was, players privately balked at having to share a court with Johnson. Karl Malone took a lot heat for publically saying he was worried about playing with Johnson that day, but he was merely saying what many other people were thinking. Many people thought it was a very serious risk to have somebody with a serious, deadly disease playing a contact sport when it isn't entirely certain yet how that disease could be spread.
Also unspoken is that it was very likely those fears that helped Johnson win the game's MVP award. Sure, his 25 points and 9 assists were both game highs, and that 3-pointer he swished to close out the game was one of the defining moments of the entire 1991-92 NBA season, but it's fairly easy to score 25 points in an exhibition game when players are subconsciously playing farther back than they normally would, just in case, you know...
But the one thing Johnson couldn't control was the opinions and fears of the players in the game. In fact, he certainly had to know they were coming. So he did the best thing he could do in that situation. He played. He joked. He high-fived and hugged. He laughed. He did everything in his power to show that he was just a guy, just a basketball player. He showed that he wasn't going to let his disease define him. And slowly, the feelings started to thaw.
That summer, when Johnson was named to the Dream Team, many of the protests and worries had dissipated. At the very least, they weren't being verbalized. After the All-Star Game, during which exactly zero of the other players on the court caught HIV from Johnson, people started to realize that maybe it was OK for someone with HIV to play basketball. By playing in the All-Star Game, Johnson showed it was OK for him to play in the Olympics. By appearing healthy and active during the Olympics, Johnson showed that maybe HIV wasn't quite as terrible as people originally thought. The education had begun.
Of course, knowledge about the disease being what it was, players privately balked at having to share a court with Johnson. Karl Malone took a lot heat for publically saying he was worried about playing with Johnson that day, but he was merely saying what many other people were thinking. Many people thought it was a very serious risk to have somebody with a serious, deadly disease playing a contact sport when it isn't entirely certain yet how that disease could be spread.
Also unspoken is that it was very likely those fears that helped Johnson win the game's MVP award. Sure, his 25 points and 9 assists were both game highs, and that 3-pointer he swished to close out the game was one of the defining moments of the entire 1991-92 NBA season, but it's fairly easy to score 25 points in an exhibition game when players are subconsciously playing farther back than they normally would, just in case, you know...
But the one thing Johnson couldn't control was the opinions and fears of the players in the game. In fact, he certainly had to know they were coming. So he did the best thing he could do in that situation. He played. He joked. He high-fived and hugged. He laughed. He did everything in his power to show that he was just a guy, just a basketball player. He showed that he wasn't going to let his disease define him. And slowly, the feelings started to thaw.
That summer, when Johnson was named to the Dream Team, many of the protests and worries had dissipated. At the very least, they weren't being verbalized. After the All-Star Game, during which exactly zero of the other players on the court caught HIV from Johnson, people started to realize that maybe it was OK for someone with HIV to play basketball. By playing in the All-Star Game, Johnson showed it was OK for him to play in the Olympics. By appearing healthy and active during the Olympics, Johnson showed that maybe HIV wasn't quite as terrible as people originally thought. The education had begun.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
November 7, 1991: The Announcement
INGLEWOOD, Calif. - It was one of the most shocking announcements in sports, one of the days where people will remember where they were when they heard it. On November 7, 1991, standing in front of a microphone at the Great Western Forum, a vague look of fear in his eyes, Magic Johnson announced to a stunned world that he had contracted HIV and would have to retire immediately.
Stunned isn't a strong enough word. Here was this feared but unknown disease, one that most people were starting to become aware of but were still of the belief that it was restricted to drug users and gay men, that it wasn't capable of becoming "mainstream." And here was one of the world's most famous athletes, a man in perfect physical condition and in the prime of his career, standing in front of everybody saying he had "attained" HIV.
People's reactions were immediate and predictable. First was the shock: Magic Johnson was going to die. In most people's minds, that was the only possible final result; a diagnosis of HIV in 1991 was a death sentence, and there was nothing anybody could do about it.
The next reaction was surprise: Magic Johnson is gay? To most people, that was the only explanation for how he got this disease. Even medical professionals at the time believed AIDS was restricted to the gay community, that the only exception was people who had shared needles while taking drugs. So Magic had to be gay. But what about his wife? Magic denied this, of course, because he wasn't gay.
What happened next has come to define Magic Johnson's life just as much as his basketball prowess. He became an ambassador for the disease. What was viewed as a death sentence when he uttered those stunning words in 1991 became a learning opportunity, a chance for the American public to find out more about this previously mysterious disease.
But first, Magic had to come clean. After first saying he didn't know how he got HIV, he later admitted to having unprotected sex with scores of women while he was playing. That meant that yes, you could get HIV through heterosexual sex.
The next thing Magic did was make a comeback. After retiring for the 1991 season after his diagnosis, he was voted to play in the 1992 All Star game anyway, and despite outspoken fears from his competitors about catching the disease, he played and won the MVP award. Then, he was chosen to play on the Dream Team for the 1992 Olympics. There, he spread knowledge about the disease by simply showing up to play. It was possible for a man with HIV to life a healthy, athletic lifestyle.
And that's when it started to sink in to people. HIV and AIDS weren't synonymous. Yes, AIDS was caused by HIV, but simply having HIV did not mean a person had AIDS. Magic was proving this. A diagnosis of HIV did not have to mean the end of a person's productive life.
It's now 2010. It has been 19 years since Magic Johnson shocked the world by admitting to having HIV, 19 years since he said the words that most people equated to a death sentence. At the time, absolutely nobody thought that he would still be alive 19 years later. Most would have considered him lucky if he made it 9 years. But turn on the NBA broadcasts on TNT, and look at Magic. He looks like any other retired athlete who put on a few too many pounds after stepping away from the game. He looks nothing like the frightening pictures of people in their final days in their battle with AIDS, the people that seem to be all skin and bones.
And that's Magic's biggest legacy. He didn't have to say a word, didn't have to raise a cent for AIDS research and awareness. He just had to live his life. By living his life, by not letting his HIV diagnosis define him, Magic Johnson gave everybody hope.
Stunned isn't a strong enough word. Here was this feared but unknown disease, one that most people were starting to become aware of but were still of the belief that it was restricted to drug users and gay men, that it wasn't capable of becoming "mainstream." And here was one of the world's most famous athletes, a man in perfect physical condition and in the prime of his career, standing in front of everybody saying he had "attained" HIV.
People's reactions were immediate and predictable. First was the shock: Magic Johnson was going to die. In most people's minds, that was the only possible final result; a diagnosis of HIV in 1991 was a death sentence, and there was nothing anybody could do about it.
The next reaction was surprise: Magic Johnson is gay? To most people, that was the only explanation for how he got this disease. Even medical professionals at the time believed AIDS was restricted to the gay community, that the only exception was people who had shared needles while taking drugs. So Magic had to be gay. But what about his wife? Magic denied this, of course, because he wasn't gay.
What happened next has come to define Magic Johnson's life just as much as his basketball prowess. He became an ambassador for the disease. What was viewed as a death sentence when he uttered those stunning words in 1991 became a learning opportunity, a chance for the American public to find out more about this previously mysterious disease.
But first, Magic had to come clean. After first saying he didn't know how he got HIV, he later admitted to having unprotected sex with scores of women while he was playing. That meant that yes, you could get HIV through heterosexual sex.
The next thing Magic did was make a comeback. After retiring for the 1991 season after his diagnosis, he was voted to play in the 1992 All Star game anyway, and despite outspoken fears from his competitors about catching the disease, he played and won the MVP award. Then, he was chosen to play on the Dream Team for the 1992 Olympics. There, he spread knowledge about the disease by simply showing up to play. It was possible for a man with HIV to life a healthy, athletic lifestyle.
And that's when it started to sink in to people. HIV and AIDS weren't synonymous. Yes, AIDS was caused by HIV, but simply having HIV did not mean a person had AIDS. Magic was proving this. A diagnosis of HIV did not have to mean the end of a person's productive life.
It's now 2010. It has been 19 years since Magic Johnson shocked the world by admitting to having HIV, 19 years since he said the words that most people equated to a death sentence. At the time, absolutely nobody thought that he would still be alive 19 years later. Most would have considered him lucky if he made it 9 years. But turn on the NBA broadcasts on TNT, and look at Magic. He looks like any other retired athlete who put on a few too many pounds after stepping away from the game. He looks nothing like the frightening pictures of people in their final days in their battle with AIDS, the people that seem to be all skin and bones.
And that's Magic's biggest legacy. He didn't have to say a word, didn't have to raise a cent for AIDS research and awareness. He just had to live his life. By living his life, by not letting his HIV diagnosis define him, Magic Johnson gave everybody hope.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
May 16, 1980: Point Center
PHILADELPHIA - In the quest for a championship, there are almost always tough decisions to consider, sacrifices to be made. Every team gets injuries and bad luck - the ones who best deal with them end up holding the trophy at the end of the year.
In 1980, the Los Angeles Lakers were faced with a dilemma. Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, their hall-of-fame center, had been dominating the series, and the Lakers held a 3 games to 2 lead on the 76ers. However, Abdul-Jabbar had injured his ankle near the end of game 5, and though he gamely returned near the end of the game, there were questions about how effective he'd be. The Lakers made the tough decision of holding Kareem out of game 6, keeping him home in Los Angeles to get treatment, while they went to Philadelphia to play without him.
With Kareem out, the Lakers needed a center. With no true backup they could trust, they turned to their rookie point guard, Magic Johnson, and asked if he could take over for the game.
Now it might seem odd to have a point guard starting at center, but at 6-9, Magic was no traditional point guard. Plus, the only real task he had to perform as a center was taking the center jump to start the game. After that, it was simply time to play.
And did Magic ever play. Officially, Magic played every position for the Lakers in that game, but really, he simply played the game. He didn't have a set position or a set role - just lead the team. He led them to an 11-0 lead to start the game. When the Sixers took an 8-point lead in the second quarter, Magic led the Lakers back to a halftime tie. When the Sixers cut the lead to 103-101 with five minutes left, Magic led his tired team to a game- and season-closing 20-6 run to wrap up the championship.
Magic's final numbers were staggering: 42 points, 15 rebounds, 7 assists, 3 steals. All from a 20-year-old rookie who was playing out of position. And while Kareem dominated the series statistically, averaging 33 points and 13 rebounds a game, Magic's game 6 performance was enough to give him the MVP award.
Game 6 also represented the day that Magic officially "arrived" in the NBA, the day that all the promise he showed in leading Michigan State to the national championship the year before came to fruition. With Magic asserting himself in 1980, and Larry Bird doing the same against the 76ers the next year, the NBA had found its pair of superstars to lead it through the rest of the decade.
In 1980, the Los Angeles Lakers were faced with a dilemma. Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, their hall-of-fame center, had been dominating the series, and the Lakers held a 3 games to 2 lead on the 76ers. However, Abdul-Jabbar had injured his ankle near the end of game 5, and though he gamely returned near the end of the game, there were questions about how effective he'd be. The Lakers made the tough decision of holding Kareem out of game 6, keeping him home in Los Angeles to get treatment, while they went to Philadelphia to play without him.
With Kareem out, the Lakers needed a center. With no true backup they could trust, they turned to their rookie point guard, Magic Johnson, and asked if he could take over for the game.
Now it might seem odd to have a point guard starting at center, but at 6-9, Magic was no traditional point guard. Plus, the only real task he had to perform as a center was taking the center jump to start the game. After that, it was simply time to play.
And did Magic ever play. Officially, Magic played every position for the Lakers in that game, but really, he simply played the game. He didn't have a set position or a set role - just lead the team. He led them to an 11-0 lead to start the game. When the Sixers took an 8-point lead in the second quarter, Magic led the Lakers back to a halftime tie. When the Sixers cut the lead to 103-101 with five minutes left, Magic led his tired team to a game- and season-closing 20-6 run to wrap up the championship.
Magic's final numbers were staggering: 42 points, 15 rebounds, 7 assists, 3 steals. All from a 20-year-old rookie who was playing out of position. And while Kareem dominated the series statistically, averaging 33 points and 13 rebounds a game, Magic's game 6 performance was enough to give him the MVP award.
Game 6 also represented the day that Magic officially "arrived" in the NBA, the day that all the promise he showed in leading Michigan State to the national championship the year before came to fruition. With Magic asserting himself in 1980, and Larry Bird doing the same against the 76ers the next year, the NBA had found its pair of superstars to lead it through the rest of the decade.
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