Magic vs. Bird
The NCAA championship matchup between Magic Johnson and Larry Bird captivated America and started one of basketball’s greatest rivalries. Today, their friendship provides the highlights.
THE BIRTH of modern basketball — whether Dr. James Naismith likes it or not — was March 26, 1979. The storyline was Black vs. White … Slick vs. Hick … Michigan State vs. Indiana State … Magic vs. Bird. Forty-five years later, the highest-rated college basketball game of all time has been memorialized with books, screenplays and an enduring theory that it lionized March Madness and saved the NBA. All true.
The everlasting relationship between Magic Johnson and Larry Bird is a study in race relations and human spirit, two strangers who crossed paths on a Monday night and showed opposites can be equals. Those who watched it live remember where they were. Those who can only watch it on YouTube could use a history lesson.
Bird’s No. 1 Indiana State Sycamores were college basketball’s version of the movie “Hoosiers,” while Magic’s No. 3 Michigan State Spartans were college basketball’s Globetrotters. To anyone who witnessed the lead-up, this was a must-watch national title game as much for the sociology as the basketball.
Magic and Bird had crossed paths just once before as backups on the ’78 World Invitational Team coached by Kentucky’s Joe B. Hall. Fresh off the ’78 NCAA title, Hall started his own Jack Givens over Bird and his own Kyle Macy over Magic. Good for him, but bad for Givens and Macy, who got torched by the two benchwarmers in practice. When Bird returned to French Lick, Ind., he told his brother, “I just seen the best player in college basketball: Magic Johnson.” Not that he would dare tell Magic.
As the nation tuned to NBC for the ’79 title game — a 24.1 rating that’s never been replicated — 33-0 Indiana State hung around, trailing by six with 10 minutes to play. But Bird never had his Jimmy Chitwood “I’ll make it” moment and seemed envious of Magic’s no-look passes in MSU’s 75-64 victory.
They weren’t fond of each other.
Then a funny thing happened on their way to the pros: Magic got drafted by the Lakers; Bird by the rival Celtics. Their rookie year, Brent Musburger couldn’t even say, “You are looking live at the NBA Finals” — because games were on tape delay. But talk about mustwatch. By the time Magic’s Lakers had faced Bird’s Celtics three times in the ’80s, the Finals were live — with much of the country split along racial lines.
“Changed the NBA,” said Bucks assistant and former All-Star Vin Baker. “There wasn’t anything else in sports but Larry-Magic.”
Behind the scenes, Magic and Bird had shot a mid-80s Converse commercial together in French Lick, with Bird’s mother, Georgia, inviting Magic inside their home. The two realized they were both working class, both unselfish; one and the same. Magic began leaving tickets for Bird’s family at games in L.A., Bird reciprocating for Magic in
Boston. When Magic was diagnosed with HIV in 1991, an inconsolable Bird had to be talked into playing the next night and threw a no-look pass in Magic’s honor. When Magic joined the ’92 Dream Team, he pushed the aging Bird to play alongside him. When Newsweek magazine wanted Magic on its cover with Michael Jordan, Magic basically said: “Only if Larry joins us.” Magic and Bird were a package deal.
“Important they embraced each other,” said Baker. “We were coming out of segregation, and to have this Black-white rivalry, it eased tension and people’s minds like, ‘Oh, they’re friends?’”
That’s the lesson: How insufferable rivals turned a tense college championship game into a can’t-mention-onewithout-the other relationship. To this day, Magic watches that ’79 game on his private jet, not just because he won that night but because, to him, celebrating Bird never, ever gets old.