As you may or may not know, Larry Bird and Magic Johnson have "co-written" a book together. (That is, they probably did a lot of talking while author Jackie MacMullen did the actual writing.) It's called When The Game Was Ours, and it comes out on November 4th. However, it's already making headlines...by making Isiah Thomas want to kick Magic's ass. The two main points of contention are:
1. Isiah spread rumors that Magic was gay or bisexual...or so Magic believes: Remember back in 1991 when Magic tested positive for HIV and had to retire? Magic's agent Lon Rosen claims Isiah told him: "I keep hearing Magic is gay." When Rosen reminded Isiah that the two men were friends and that Isiah knew him better than anyone, Isiah allegedly replied, "I know, but I don't know what he's doing when he's out there in L.A." In the book, Magic responds to this story by saying, "Isiah kept questioning people about it. I couldn't believe that. The one guy I thought I could count on had all these doubts. It was like he kicked me in the stomach.''
2. Magic (along with Michael Jordan) co-blocked Isiah from making the 1992 Olympic Dream Team: Said Magic: "Isiah killed his own chances when it came to the Olympics. Nobody on that team wanted to play with him. ... Michael didn't want to play with him. Scottie [Pippen] wanted no part of him. Bird wasn't pushing for him. Karl Malone didn't want him. Who was saying, 'We need this guy?' Nobody.''
You can kind of see how this happened, right? Magic hears that Isiah might kinda-sorta wonder whether he's gay in 1991, because science at that time had proven that only homosexuals and junkies got AIDS. When he hears what Isiah might have kinda-sorta said, Magic gets pissed but doesn't say anything, because it's uncomfortable to address rumors that your best friend thinks you might want to put his penis in your mouth. When 1992 rolls around and it's time for him to stand behind Isiah's inclusion on the Dream Team, Magic exacts his revenge by helping to keep one of the best point guards of all time off the greatest team of all time. And now, after all these years, Magic decides "clears the air" in a book about his rivalry with Larry Bird. Without telling Isiah in advance.
Sounds pretty fifth grade, right?
There's only one problem with Magic's claims and assumptions. Isiah denies questioning Magic's sexuality, mostly because his own brother, Gregory Thomas, had HIV. Said Thomas: "What most people don't know is, before Magic had HIV, my brother had HIV. My brother died of HIV, AIDS, drug abuse. So I knew way more about the disease, because I was living with it in my house.''
Whoops.
You know what this reminds me of? More fifth grade stuff. You have two best friends (Magic and Isiah) and one bitter enemy to both of them (Bird). Only, by some strange twist of fate, one of the bosom buddies (Magic) becomes friends with the enemy (Bird). Suddenly, the other bosom buddy (Isiah) is on the outside looking in...and wondering what in the hell happened. But of course boys don't talk about their feelings, so the two former friends just drift apart. By 8th grade (or in this case almost two decades later), one former friend (Isiah) finally hears through the grapevine (or in this case a book prepared for mass distribution) that his old buddy thinks all kinds of bad things about him based on stuff that may not even be true.
Ah, children.
Here are some of Isiah's responses to all this. Regarding the Dream Team cock-block:
"I'm glad that he's finally had the nerve and the courage to stand up and say it was him, as opposed to letting Michael Jordan take the blame for it all these years. I wish he would have had the courage to say this stuff to me face to face, as opposed to writing it in some damn book to sell and he can make money off it.''Regarding the "I said Magic's gay" rumors:
"Magic acted and responded off some really bad information that he got. Whatever friendship we had, I thought it was bulls--- that he believed that. Let me put it to you this way: If he and I were such close friends, if I was questioning his sexuality, then I was questioning mine too. That's how idiotic it is.Believe it or not, I feel a little bad for Isiah. The dude has been having a pretty rough decade or so. Misfortune and tragedy -- much of it self-imposed -- have dogged him at every turn. If you think about it, this all started in 1987 when he said that if Larry Bird was black he's be just another good player. Then, after a couple championships, he walked off the court without congratulating the Bulls after the 1991 Eastern Conference Finals. Then he bombed as Toronto's GM. Then there was the CBA debacle. Then Larry Bird fires him as coach of the Indiana Pacers. Years later, he gets fired again after almost destroying the New York Knicks. Then he allegedly tries to commit suicide and says it was actually his daughter who did it. Now this.
"They weren't going to let Magic play in the All-Star Game; all the players were coming out [against him]. You know how that all got turned around? I had a meeting with all of the players -- because I was president of the players' association -- and I told them not only was he going to play, but we were going to shake his hand and give him a hug. And I was the first to shake his hand and hug him and give him a kiss, to let people know that's not how the virus is spread. And you can go back and check at the players' association. Call Charlie Grantham [the former union executive director and COO] and ask him how Magic got to play in the All-Star Game. Ask him who called the meeting.
"I don't discriminate. I don't believe any race or ethnic group or social group should be discriminated against, because I have been discriminated against, and I know it would be wrong for me to discriminate. I think Magic has been misled on a lot of things, and unfortunately this has been another one of them. I am hurt and disappointed that he has chosen to believe others as opposed to his closest friends. And I think you can go back and look in that era and see who his closest friends were, and who his closest friends are now. At that time, I don't consider Lon Rosen to be one of his closest friends; he was one of his business advisers making money off him."
Bad times all around.
It's hard to blame 1991 Magic Johnson for being upset. After all, back then being diagnosed with HIV was like a death sentence. And, frankly, it was easy to believe that Isiah would say something stupid like "I don't know what he's doing when he's out there in L.A." in light of his previous comments about Bird. And yeah, maybe he was too emotionally wrung out to deal with it by the time the original Dream Team was being put together. I get all that. What I don't get is why it's taken Magic -- who's healthy and has seemingly long since come to terms with his HIV-positive status -- so long to speak up. And, really, he should have told Isiah directly before putting it into a book that's not even about Isiah.
But if The Magic Hour taught us anything, it's that Magic doesn't always make the best decisions. Oh well. I guess it's better to have man-loved and lost...than to have never man-loved at all.
Update! I had to add this comment from BleedingHeartPessimist: "I can just picture Larry Bird, sitting in his Birdcave, looking at a giant flow chart entitled "Plan to Destroy Isiah and Magic", crossing off another box, and chuckling to himself."
Update again! More high comedy from Hilary:
Michael Jordan probably saw it as Magic letting him take credit, not the fall.
Top Secret Meeting of Dream Team Players
Magic: He's not my BFF anymore. That is so 1990.
Larry: I never liked him either.
Karl Malone: Speaking of manlove, if he gets on, my basketball other half is probably going to be left off. Down with Isiah!
Charles Barkley and Scottie Pippen: We vote however Michael says, and everyone knows how he froze Michael out during that All-Star game.
Jordan: I want him off the team, too, but on one condition.
All: What?
Jordan: He thinks I'm the one behind everything. He gets to sit at home all summer and think about how if he would have acknowledged my greatness, he could have been on the greatest team ever. The biggest mistake anyone can ever make is not acknowledging my greatness, you know. And I never forget, and I will dedicate the rest of my life to humiliating anyone foolish enough to motivate me by -- anyone got a pen? This is good stuff, and I want to save it for my hall of fame induction speech.
Malone: Make sure John gets to be the other point guard, and he'll make up something about wanting to be brought into the hall of fame by another small dominant guard so Isiah can be there in person when you make the hall of fame speech!
Jordan: Deal!
Labels: AIDS, feuds, HIV, Isiah Thomas, Larry Bird, Magic Johnson, man love
Retired Legenditis (re-tird' lej'-uhnd-it'-is) noun. An acute psychological disorder that causes some (but certainly not all) NBA legends to lose their damn minds during retirement. At best, the ensuing erratic and unpredictable behavior embarrasses both them and their families. At worst, it sullies their legacy forever.
Usage example: Reggie Miller is the latest former NBA great to contract Retired Legenditis.
Word History: The term was coined last night (August 11, 2009) by Statbuster while we were discussing Reggie Miller's very public feud with Alex von Furstenberg, a Malibu surf shop owner and son of fashion legend Diane von Furstenberg. Apparently, Reggie spent several months flirting with von Furstenberg's fiancé -- clothing designer Ali Kay -- which caused von Furstenberg to go apeshit. It probably didn't help that Kay sent Reggie a couple sizzling pics via text message. Restraining orders were filled out by both parties but never filed, and von Furstenberg paid a small plane to fly a banner over the beaches of Malibu to warn Reggie off of married women. Bad times all around.
This mess was of course preceded by Reggie having a tramp stamp tattooed around his belly button and pouring vodka down the gullet of some barely-legal babe while wearing a ghastly sweater vest. Remember when NBA legends retired with dignity?
Oh, right. You probably don't. Not with Charles Barkley getting busted for DUI and then telling the arresting officer "I was gonna drive around the corner and get a blow job." (Later at the police station, Sir Charles told another officer "I'll tattoo my name on your ass" if he helped "get him out of the DUI.") Oh, and let's not forget Chuck's gambling addiction or that time he had a civil complaint filed against him for a $400,000 gambling debt he accidentally forgot to pay. He also joked about Isiah Thomas' alleged suicide attempt at a press conference (more on that below).
Hey, I guess it's tough being a basketball legend who doesn't play basketball anymore. Julius Erving made a sex tape with a woman who was not his wife, and that tape was mysteriously released during his messy divorce trial. Elgin Baylor spent a couple decades ruining the Clippers. (And after Elgin was FINALLY fired, he filed an employment discrimination lawsuit against the Clippers, team owner Donald Sterling, and the NBA. He alleges that he was underpaid during his tenure with the team and then fired because of his age and race.) Kevin McHale completely McFailed as GM of the Timberwolves. Larry Bird is still running the Pacers into the ground. Magic Johnson made a couple ill-fated comebacks (the second of which featured an ejection and suspension for bumping a referee and then claiming the ref bumped him), embarrassed himself with an ugly 16-game coaching stint with the Lakers (during which the team went 5-11), and then totally bombed as host of The Magic Hour (after which he blamed his failure on a lack of support from African American celebrities).
Michael Jordan completely mismanaged the Washington Wizards (epitomized by his selection of Kwame Brown with the number one overall pick in the 2001 NBA Draft) until he was fired by owner Abe Pollin. The sacking came despite MJ's two-season comeback with the Wiz, during which he "led" the team to back-to-back 37-win seasons and utterly failed to make the playoffs (despite guaranteeing a postseason berth). Things have gone only slightly better with the Bobcats...seeing as how Mike only wasted the third overall draft pick of the 2006 NBA Draft on Adam Morrison. But that's the sole improvement. MJ also likes bumping and grinding with the barely-legals. And here's some more evidence that his divorce didn't exactly break his heart.
And then there's Isiah Thomas. First, he destroyed the CBA. Second, he got fired as coach of the Pacers by his former rival Larry Bird. Then he became GM and later the coach of the New York Knicks...otherwise known as The Greatest Epic Fail in NBA History. Shortly after the Knicks finally canned him, Isiah apparently tried to commit suicide by overdosing on sleeping pills. He then claimed it was his daughter who tried to kill herself. The truth was never made clear, but when asked about the situation during a press conference, Isiah couldn't deny it was a suicide attempt.
The moral of this post? Maybe it's better NOT to become an NBA legend.
Labels: Isiah Thomas, Larry Bird, Magic Johnson, Michael Jordan, Reggie Miller, Word of the Day
I love these old school shoe commercials. Seriously, I can't get enough of 'em. All-time greats, laughable production values, not-so-special effects and acting that's so lifeless and wooden it would embarrass those LeBron and Kobe puppets. The best part of this commercial: The slightly creepy forced group laugh at the end. (That's the exact same laugh, by the way, that my college roommate used to have when I walked in on him with an Adam & Eve catalogue.) Second-best part: Larry's delayed reaction after Dr. J takes his shoe. (If only they'd had Larry say "Aw, schucks!" or "Gee willikers!"...)
Labels: Converse, Dr. J, Larry Bird, Magic Johnson, shoe commercials
Most people are aware that first year (and second year, and third year...) college students often experience significant and sometimes dramatic weight gain (typically referred to as the freshman fifteen). Now let's assume that you're a parent who's sending a child to college for the first time. Would you want this man feeding that child?
Well, that's what's happening at Florida A&M University, where Magic Johnson is turning a popular student-dining facility into -- wait for it -- Subconnection Magic. According to The Famuan:
Subconnection Magic will cost whoever pays for these things around $900,000. In case you're unfamiliar with numberomatics, that's almost one million dollars...which may sound like a lot of money for a glorified cafeteria, but there's some big-time bang for that buck: SM will feature multiple flat screen TVs (with subliminal messaging that will drive students into an eating frenzy), additional seating (for those soon-to-be super-sized asses), longer operating hours (because gob-stuffing takes time), and "excellent customer service" (think Oompa-Loompas, only serving burgers and fries in addition to delicious candy).
And, regardless of all the bells and whistles, you just know that the food will be good. Because if there's one thing Magic Johnson knows -- other than the cure for AIDS -- it's eating. The grand opening of Subconnection Magic is scheduled for January 2009.
Well, that's what's happening at Florida A&M University, where Magic Johnson is turning a popular student-dining facility into -- wait for it -- Subconnection Magic. According to The Famuan:
The location, formerly known as the Orange Room, will have two new eateries built on the foundation set by the Orange Room. "The Grill 155 will have an expanded menu from what was previously in the orange room," said Terry Woodward, general manager of University Dining.Indeed. Why would college students want to sit outside, suffering in the loathsome sunshine and hatefully fresh air, when they can huddle under acne-revealing halogen lights and let Magic Johnson slowly but inexorably transform them into quivering, sloshing ham-beasts?
"FAMU has been selected as the first university to partner with Magic Johnson on this new concept," Woodard said. "Mr. Johnson is very excited about the partnership and looks forward to being a part of its grand opening."
Anitra Dufresne, a senior health information management student from Ft. Lauderdale, said she thinks the new dining area is going to be the new campus hang out spot. "Why would people want to sit in the sun or in the rain on The Set, when they could sit in the orange room with their friends, eat and beat the heat?" Dufresne asked.
Subconnection Magic will cost whoever pays for these things around $900,000. In case you're unfamiliar with numberomatics, that's almost one million dollars...which may sound like a lot of money for a glorified cafeteria, but there's some big-time bang for that buck: SM will feature multiple flat screen TVs (with subliminal messaging that will drive students into an eating frenzy), additional seating (for those soon-to-be super-sized asses), longer operating hours (because gob-stuffing takes time), and "excellent customer service" (think Oompa-Loompas, only serving burgers and fries in addition to delicious candy).
And, regardless of all the bells and whistles, you just know that the food will be good. Because if there's one thing Magic Johnson knows -- other than the cure for AIDS -- it's eating. The grand opening of Subconnection Magic is scheduled for January 2009.
Labels: eating, entrepreneurship, fat legends, Magic Johnson
Trying to get young men and women to join the Army can be a tough sell, especially with an average salary of about $15K a year for new recruits. On the upside, you can earn fat cash for college for a mere three to five years of indentured servitude. Assuming that, you know, you don't get blown up in Iraq first.
Today's Army recruitment videos are dramatic and inspirational. In 1987 they were...a little silly and nonsensical. Take this one, which uses Magic Johnson as an example of "being all that you can be." While I can't argue that Magic did indeed get the absolute most out of his physical abilities, I'm not sure how the message "See how this talented athlete has become the best player in his sport and is making bags and bags of money?" was supposed to inspire anyone to earn poverty-level wages for the right to have scary old guys scream and spit all over you. But what do I know about military psychology? Besides, I bet those yummy field rations make it all worthwhile.
Random sidenote: Basketbawful reader Wormboy mentioned (and vehemently agreed with)another criticism leveled against Magic in the article I referenced in yesterday's post: "While imploring the kids to 'Make sure that you make the right decisions' and underscoring that remark with 'You know what's right from wrong,' the NBA legend never took ownership of his monumental mistake of contracting HIV. With this disease rampant in the black community, it seems only appropriate that Johnson's act include one measly mention of his poor decision-making."
Here's the thing, though: Magic's wide-ranging campaign against HIV has been well-chronicled. (Go to the I Stand With Magic site for more details.) He has spent a great deal of time since his fateful retirement announcement owning up to his mistake and speaking out about the dangers of HIV and AIDS. Realistically speaking, how long does Magic need to keep apologizing? Is he really responsible for bringing it up at each and every single speaking engagement he does? Really?
While I agree with the general sentiment -- that it is important to continue to inform and educate the black community (and all communities) about the threat HIV poses to the world -- I also think there is a time and place for it. And Magic has done it many times in many places, and continues to do so. So, in my opinion, that criticism was a trifle unfair.
Today's Army recruitment videos are dramatic and inspirational. In 1987 they were...a little silly and nonsensical. Take this one, which uses Magic Johnson as an example of "being all that you can be." While I can't argue that Magic did indeed get the absolute most out of his physical abilities, I'm not sure how the message "See how this talented athlete has become the best player in his sport and is making bags and bags of money?" was supposed to inspire anyone to earn poverty-level wages for the right to have scary old guys scream and spit all over you. But what do I know about military psychology? Besides, I bet those yummy field rations make it all worthwhile.
Random sidenote: Basketbawful reader Wormboy mentioned (and vehemently agreed with)another criticism leveled against Magic in the article I referenced in yesterday's post: "While imploring the kids to 'Make sure that you make the right decisions' and underscoring that remark with 'You know what's right from wrong,' the NBA legend never took ownership of his monumental mistake of contracting HIV. With this disease rampant in the black community, it seems only appropriate that Johnson's act include one measly mention of his poor decision-making."
Here's the thing, though: Magic's wide-ranging campaign against HIV has been well-chronicled. (Go to the I Stand With Magic site for more details.) He has spent a great deal of time since his fateful retirement announcement owning up to his mistake and speaking out about the dangers of HIV and AIDS. Realistically speaking, how long does Magic need to keep apologizing? Is he really responsible for bringing it up at each and every single speaking engagement he does? Really?
While I agree with the general sentiment -- that it is important to continue to inform and educate the black community (and all communities) about the threat HIV poses to the world -- I also think there is a time and place for it. And Magic has done it many times in many places, and continues to do so. So, in my opinion, that criticism was a trifle unfair.
Labels: commercials, Magic Johnson, United States Army
I love Magic Johnson, not only because he's one of the greatest players in NBA history, but because he has a way with the English language. See, Magic doesn't just speak; he makes love to words. He once explained the passing rapport he shared with his Lakers teammates by saying "When we're out there, it's like we have ESPN." He also coined the terms fundamativity and harmonism, which make my life better on an almost every-day basis.
But some people don't share my generous appraisal of Magic's grammatical successivations. One such person is Star Tribune columnist CJ, whose current column is titled "Johnson isn't magical when he puts a reverse English spin on his grammar." In it she weaves the dark tale of how Magic recently gave an inspirational speech to a group of kids at the Mall of America -- he cut the ribbon at the grand opening of the mall's new Best Buy store -- and [prepare to be shocked!!] he committed a handful of verbal gaffes, such as saying "hisself" instead of "himself." I know. Pretty dark and sinister stuff.
Her biggest complaint came over this extended Magicism: "You can't be late to the dinner table [when you have six sisters and three brothers] or what will happen? All the food gone." Then: "Now here's a kid from the ghetto, grew up in the neighborhood and he don't [sic] drink coffee and he owns Starbucks."
Speaking as a longtime Magic fan, I can tell you for certain that this oration was actually really good for him. However, CJ's gripe is that successful businessmen like Magic should be able to speak better, and that Magic's oral diarrhea is setting a bad example for the kiddies...since nobody can succeed if they talk like an idiot.
Really, CJ? I wouldn't be too sure about that...
Labels: grammar, Magic Johnson
This is part 3 of our ongoing Worsties coverage. It runs through the end of last January. More parts to follow.
Isiah continues to lose grip on reality, Part I: A day after 2007 gave way to 2008, Isiah Thomas had this to say about his godawful team: "I believe that one day we will win a championship here. And as I sit here and I say it today, I know people will laugh even more at me, but I'm hell bent on getting this accomplished and making sure that we get it done. And I'm not leaving until we get it done." Emboldened by their coaches strong words, the Knicks promptly went out and got blown out at home by the Sacramento Kings (13-18), who were without Kevin Martin, Ron Artest, and Mike Bibby. After the game, Thomas altered his stance ever so slightly: "I don't necessarily just want to win a championship. I want to leave something that's going to stand for a long time. I want to leave a legacy, I want to leave tradition. I want to leave an imprint, a blueprint in terms of how people play, and how they coach and how they respond when they put on the Knick uniform. And I want to leave what I left in Detroit. Every person that walks through that door as a Piston, when they put on that uniform, there's a certain pride that they carry. And I want to put that here and I want to leave that here in New York. I want to leave a championship legacy." Seriously, I know people who got put in padded cells for less crazy than this.
Knicks try to stifle "Fire Isiah" movement: A 22-year-old college student was arrested outside Madison Square Garden for selling t-shirts that said, "Don't Hate The Player Or The Game. Hate The Coach." The man in question, one Ivan Cash, thinks the arrest was meant "to put a lid on all the demands by fans for a new coach.'' No kidding? erhaps we should just tattoo "Duh" on his head and get it over with.
Scottie Pippen requests head coaching position (world laughs): During the 2006-07 seasons, Pippen wanted to come back and play in the NBA, even going so far as to say, "The fans who understand the game, the GMs and coaches, I think they'd rather have a Scottie than a Michael [Jordan]. Because I'm an all-around player. Coaches would rather have a Scottie-type player than a Michael. I was an all-around player. I made people around me better." Surprisingly enough, nobody -- and I mean nobody -- was interested in his services. In 2008, Pip decided he wanted to coach the Bulls. "What's my disadvantage? No NBA coaching experience? [Scott] Skiles' record with the Bulls wasn't that great. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to do what you've done your whole life. I've played basketball, run teams and won. They didn't put me at point guard because I could dribble good. They put me there because I could run a team. I wasn't the best dribbler, the best shooter. I wasn't a point guard. But I knew how to run a team." Actually, I seem to remember guys like John Paxson, B.J. Armstrong, Ron Harper, and even Steve Kerr playing point for the Bulls back then, but whatever. Pippen continued: "With a guy [Jordan] who loved to touch it and shoot all the time, I was able to keep him under control. That didn't come from the bench, it came from making the right decisions. You try to make the game fun for everyone and then we were able to find Mike. The games I felt he was getting off too much, I'd find a way to get other guys off. And then guys weren't running at him all the time and he could take off in the right place." Uh, yeah. I don't really want to hear about Pip getting other players off. Beyond that, his assertion that it was he, and not Phil Jackson or Jordan himself, that reigned Jordan in is patently ridiculous. As is most of everything else Pippen is saying these days. Particularly when you consider that, right after announcing he wanted to coach the Bulls, he started ripping into the players. On Tyrus Thomas: "He doesn't know how to play the game. He's great from the neck down." On Ben Wallace: "You don't pay a rebounder $15 million. OK, they did. He doesn't know the game like Dennis Rodman did." On Kirk Hinrich: "He's not that talented...you can't have midgets running your backcourt." On Luol Deng: "he's trying to show 28, 29 teams what he's about instead of going out and playing." On Andres Nocioni: "He's turning into Rasheed Wallace with the kinds of things he does on floor." I don't care about his six championships or his place in the 50 Greatest NBA Players. He's an idiot if he thinks talk like that is going to land him a head coaching job anywhere in the NBA, let alone for the Bulls. Does he really think the players would listen to him after he blasted them in the press like that? Ben Gordon sure wasn't listening. "I don't really care what Scottie has to say. Everybody's entitled to their own opinion, but it doesn't have anything to do with anything."
Chauncey Billups gives us a sign of things to come: "Mr. Big Shot" missed three freethrows in the fourth quarter of the Piston's 92-85 loss to the Celtics. He also missed a critical three-pointer in the closing minutes that could have given his team the lead (he was 3-for-9 from three-point range for the game). Then, rather than giving the Celtics credit afterward, he tried to diminish the impact of their victory. "They're a little more happy than we were when we won our game at their place. It was just a regular game for us with two good teams playing. They were kind of playing like it was the Super Bowl. There was probably a little more at stake for them and their psyche than it was for us." And see, that's why the Pistons have failed to make it back to the NBA Finals the last few years. That arrogant, lackadaisical makes for great soundbytes...and disappointing playoff exits.
The Suns' Achilles' heel revealed by...us: Frustrated by the Suns' relative underperformance, I wrote a letter to them to please stop sucking. In that letter, I disclosed that they were, by far, the worst rebounding team in the league. In retrospect, I wish I hadn't written this letter. I'm not saying Steve Kerr read it or anything, but if he did, it's the kind of thing that could push a GM into making a panic trade...
Pat Riley starts eyeballing the "Quit" button: Even as the Heat lose their ninth game in a row and fall to 8-28, rumors start circulating that Riles might retire after this season. Somewhere, Stan Van Gundy laughs in equal parts delight and bitterness.
Isiah continues to lose grip on reality, Part II: The NBA's walking punchline continued to deliver. A few days after stating his intent to win a championship in New York, he was quoted in the New York Daily News as giving himself "two votes of confidence" in his dual role as the Knicks coach and general manager. ''There could be smarter people [than me], but in terms of determination and passion to make it right, I know I'm not going to find anybody [better] out there. I am determined to fix this and make it right.'' He then basically conceded that this season sucks big time, but that ''...you stick around long enough, it happens. You just have to fight your way through it. Through these tough times, you still have to set the example and be the leader. Because there's a locker room full of men looking for direction, and my job is to provide that.'' Isiah then went out and provided that example by coaching the Knicks to yet another home loss in which he got ejected for (possibly) making contact with an official. What terrible crime against humanity compelled Isiah to rush out onto the floor and get himself tossed? He felt Yao Ming should have been called for a three-second violation. Way to choose your battles there, Isiah.
Gordan Giricek
Saint Louis Billikens remind me why I hate college basketball: I'm not a big fan of college basketball (unless it's my alma mater or March Madness), but I couldn't not mention this travesty: The Billikens set a modern Division I record for fewest points in a game with 20. Saint Louis went zero for their first nine shot attempts. At one point, they missed 23 consecutive shots and finished 7-for-48 (14.6 percent) from the field, including 1-for-19 from 3-point range. They had scored only 7 points by halftime, a performance that made their 13-point second half look positively scintillating. What does a coach even say to his team after a performance so historically dreadful? Well, Rick Majerus, the Billikens' coach, noted after the game that this was his first year with Saint Louis and that he did not recruit the team. "It's like being a stepparent. I didn't pick them. They didn't pick me." Wow. Feel the love.
Update! Basketbawful reader deej pointed out that our boy Larry Hughes was a Billiken, and Johnny Drama provided this wonderful and related link. Turns out the Billikens were, in a way, paying tribute to their most famous son.
The Dark Lord is stunned as it snows in hell: Seriously.
The inmates start running the asylum in Chicago: First, Joakim Noah screamed at assistant coach Ron Adams at practice, after which interim head coach Jim Boylan suspended Noah for one game for his behavior. Then a cabal of Bulls players -- led by Ben "I am killing this team with my huge contract and lousy play" Wallace and Adrian "He's still on this team?" Griffin -- vote to suspend Noah for an additional game. Stunningly, Chicago's coaching staff and management supported this move. Bulls GM John Paxson appeared on the Mike North Morning Show on WSCR-AM (670), and said that everyone in the Bulls' organization, including team chairman Jerry Reinsdorf, thought that the players' group decision to bench Noah was ''outstanding.'' Mind you, these were the same players who tuned out and quit on Scott Skiles, leading to the "coach who turned things around" getting fired on freakin' Christmas eve.
JamesOn Curry decides the entire world is his bathroom: The Bulls rookie, best known for a gratuitous capital O in his first name, added a big P to his arsenal of extraneous letters last night. Curry, who was serving a stint with the Iowa Energy of the NBA Developmental League, was urinating in an alley near the Hampton Inn in Boise, Iowa, when he was spotted by a police officer. As the officer approached in his patrol car, Curry saw him and started to walk away (only after holstering his boomstick, one hopes). The officer turned his emergency lights on and Curry bolted. He went into the Hampton Inn and was stopped by a locked door (d'oh!). Curry was then taken into custody and charged with misdemeanor counts of urinating in public, resisting arrest, and being a damned fool. The biggest tragedy to come out of this is that Curry -- due to suspension -- was forced to miss the Zooperstars performance during halftime of the Energy's next game against the Austin Toros.
Lakers fans turn on Kwame Brown: During L.A.'s 106-98 loss to the Suns, Lakers fans played The Giant Falling Anvil to Kwame Brown's Wile E. Coyote, booing him with a pitiless rage that would make even Hannibal Lecter a little uneasy. Kwame played so badly -- 3-for-8 shooting, two blown layups, one missed dunk, and 7 turnovers -- that one wonders whether he has the manual dexterity necessary to accomplish even the simplest of tasks, like using a remote control or unwrapping a piece of gum. Update! Basketbawful reader dunpizzle provided some video.
And it happened again.
More Knicks drama unfolds: Former Knicks coach Larry Brown revealed that management had spies "throughout the arena" to keep in eye on him. As a result, he never felt fully comfortable viewing Internet porn in his office. I mean, he still did it and everything, but it wasn't nearly as satisfying as it could have been.
Shaq's wallet fuels our economy: Thanks to his ongoing divorce issues, the press gives us an insider's view of The Big Spender's monthly expenditures: $1,500 for cable TV, $110,000 for vacations, $17,000 for clothing, $26,500 for babysitting, and $23,000 at gas stations. Man, I need to quit my job and get hired on as Shaq's nanny. That has "hit sitcom" written all over it.
Tony Parker's dark secret revealed: Eva Longoria finally admitted to something that everyone who follows the NBA already knew. No, not that Tony Parker has a very small penis (although that's true too). The dude totally fakes fouls and injuries. Gee, I'm so very shocked. Remember in last year's playoffs when Parker obliterated Steve Nash's nose with his bulbous head? I mean, Nash's poor beak freaking exploded, yet he just stood there and took it like a man while Parker was writhing around on the court in totally bogus agony.
Magic Johnson makes bold (read that "stupid") prediction: The man who gave us harmonism and fundamativity has now offered up the following insane prognostication: The New York Knicks (who were at that time 14-31) were going to make the playoffs. In fact, Johnson said, "I think that they’re going to be a tough eight or seven seed, too." Why would Magic think something so, you know, stupid? "Because you can see that they’ve turned the corner. Now everybody knows their roles, their minutes. I watch every game." Well, there you have it. Magic watches every Knicks game. No wonder he's lost his damn mind.
Chris Webber returns (waaaah waaaah waaaaaaaah): [The following was submitted and written by Justin from Birdmonster.] Warrior fans have a long, hate-flavored memory. And while I will always have a special place in my charcoaled soul for Mike Dunleavy, Todd Fuller, and the unforgettable Uwe Blab, only Chris Webber had the ability to pull his shorts past his bionic knees and crap all over our faces twice.
A brief history: Webber famously forced a trade after his first season in the Bay, a trade which netted the Warriors the unstoppable manbeast known as Tom Gugliotta. C-Webb would become a perennial all star and the cornerstone of those enjoyable turn of the millennium Sacramento teams while Tom Guglitta would earn the nickname "The Grub."
Then, last season, right before the Shaq & Pau trades, our lovable Warriors signed Webber after more than a decade of wear and tear. Warriors fans enjoyed the hallucination that Webber, with his smooth passing and crafty old-man-game, could be a valuable piece in Don Nelson's ever fluid line-up. I know I talked myself into it.
Then I saw him play.
It was a tragedy.
Webber played a staggering nine games and averaged 3.9 points and 3.6 rebounds a game before his android joints rusted. While Warrior fans begged to see us some Brandan Wright, C-Webb got 14 minutes a night to bog down the Warriors offense and make a defense built on scrappiness into one built on crappy-ness. I was actually upset he was taking minutes from Austin Croshere.
So thanks CWebb. We'll let you know when that statue outside Oracle is up.
Labels: Chauncy Billups, Chris Webber, Isiah Thomas, Magic Johnson, NBA Worsties, New York Knicks, Phoenix Suns, Scottie Pippen, Tony Parker
That new Magic-and-Larry promo for the Lakers-Celtics Finals got me thinking about some of the great Magic Johnson commercials from the 80s and early 90s. Those ads did more than just brainwash us into mindless consumerism; they taught us things, too. Like the fact that spicy chicken can give you superpowers and diet soft drinks are best enjoyed while wearing a tuxedo.
The commercial Magic teaches some white kid how to hit a reverse layup and then does a magic trick.
The lesson: That it's possible, even for America's goofy white youth, to learn Magic Johnson's signature moves on the first try. Also, that all it takes is a towel and Magic's crotch to transform a basketball into a bottle of 7-up.
Update! Basketbawful reader Five Pound Bag has informed me that the goofy blond dude in Magic's 7-up commercial was actually Ann Meyers, one of the most notorious serial killers of...wait, sorry, that was Michael Meyers. Ann Meyers was one of the greatest female basketball players of all time. She was so good that she actually signed a contract with the Indiana Pacers in 1980 (seriously). So, you know, my bad. But you have to admit, she was very mannish in that video.
The commercial: Magic Johnson hangs out with some kids and tells them: "Don't foul out, say no to drugs."
The lesson: That -- with apologies to Josh Howard -- drugs are bad. Very, very bad. However, the subtext is that having promiscuous sex with many anonymous partners without protection isn't just okay, it's freaking awesome. (Right up until you contract a deadly STD, anyway.)
The commercial: Several people, including Magic Johnson, drink Diet Pepsi in what one presumes is their "natural environment."
The lesson: That anybody -- regardless of race, creed, or social standing -- can enjoy the cool, refreshing, calorie-free deliciousness of Diet Pepsi. Even if it does taste like ice-cold ass. Also, that Magic's "natural environment" is suspended from a backboard while wearing a tuxedo.
The commercial: Magic plays some pickup ball before rehydrating with some Slice.
The lesson: That Gatorade is for sissies (or it was in 1990). Nothing restores complex carbohydrates and electrolytes quite like a can of vaguely orange-flavored soda. Also, Magic isn't above using his basketball powers in petty, frivolous ways to amaze young children who barely recognize him.
The commercial: Magic Johnson selfishly eats an entire bucket of chicken at a pickup game. Then breaths fire.
The lesson: That running into Magic Johnson at a dreary, local gym is less exciting than the prospect of sharing greasy, deep-fried chunks of slaughtered farm animals with him. Additionally, pyrotechnics are the best way to get people to back the hell off when you're eating. Oh, and (as karma pointed out) black men like to play basketball and eat fried chicken...who knew?
The commercial Magic teaches some white kid how to hit a reverse layup and then does a magic trick.
The lesson: That it's possible, even for America's goofy white youth, to learn Magic Johnson's signature moves on the first try. Also, that all it takes is a towel and Magic's crotch to transform a basketball into a bottle of 7-up.
Update! Basketbawful reader Five Pound Bag has informed me that the goofy blond dude in Magic's 7-up commercial was actually Ann Meyers, one of the most notorious serial killers of...wait, sorry, that was Michael Meyers. Ann Meyers was one of the greatest female basketball players of all time. She was so good that she actually signed a contract with the Indiana Pacers in 1980 (seriously). So, you know, my bad. But you have to admit, she was very mannish in that video.
The commercial: Magic Johnson hangs out with some kids and tells them: "Don't foul out, say no to drugs."
The lesson: That -- with apologies to Josh Howard -- drugs are bad. Very, very bad. However, the subtext is that having promiscuous sex with many anonymous partners without protection isn't just okay, it's freaking awesome. (Right up until you contract a deadly STD, anyway.)
The commercial: Several people, including Magic Johnson, drink Diet Pepsi in what one presumes is their "natural environment."
The lesson: That anybody -- regardless of race, creed, or social standing -- can enjoy the cool, refreshing, calorie-free deliciousness of Diet Pepsi. Even if it does taste like ice-cold ass. Also, that Magic's "natural environment" is suspended from a backboard while wearing a tuxedo.
The commercial: Magic plays some pickup ball before rehydrating with some Slice.
The lesson: That Gatorade is for sissies (or it was in 1990). Nothing restores complex carbohydrates and electrolytes quite like a can of vaguely orange-flavored soda. Also, Magic isn't above using his basketball powers in petty, frivolous ways to amaze young children who barely recognize him.
The commercial: Magic Johnson selfishly eats an entire bucket of chicken at a pickup game. Then breaths fire.
The lesson: That running into Magic Johnson at a dreary, local gym is less exciting than the prospect of sharing greasy, deep-fried chunks of slaughtered farm animals with him. Additionally, pyrotechnics are the best way to get people to back the hell off when you're eating. Oh, and (as karma pointed out) black men like to play basketball and eat fried chicken...who knew?
Labels: commercials, lessons, Magic Johnson
Note: Thanks to Ryan R. for the graphic.
This is Part 8 of our The Worst of Celtics-Lakers series. This was the infamous "Lakers Revenge" series, where L.A. finally beat the Celtics in the Finals...in Boston Garden no less. And I will now throw up in my mouth.
1985 NBA Finals
Be careful what you wish for: As noted in Part 7, Magic Johnson pretty much blew the '84 Finals with costly turnovers and missed freethrows. He became so depressed afterward that Kevin McHale started calling him "Tragic Johnson" and Larry Bird was gracious enough to openly invite another showdown with the Lakers in the Finals: "I'd like to give them the opportunity to redeem themselves. I'm sure they have guys who feel they didn't play up to their capabilities."
Cedric Maxwell: 1984-85 was not a good season for Cornbread Maxwell. First, he held out of training camp because of a contract dispute. Then, in February, he underwent arthroscopic knee surgery and missed 25 games (which was, essentially, the rest of the regular season). When Maxwell finally returned for the playoffs, it was clear that he hadn't fully recovered, and some people in the Celtics organization -- Red Auerbach in particular -- felt that Max hadn't fully committed himself to rehabbing his knee. This enraged Auerbach, particularly since the team had given in and signed Max to a big contract extension after he had held out. To make matters worse, Cornbread openly sulked that he didn't get his starting job back (K.C. Jones decided to leave Kevin McHale, who had been on fire in Maxwell's absence, in the starting lineup). So between the subpar play and his attitude, Jones and the rest of the Celtics lost faith in the man who had taken them to the promised land in Game 7 of the '84 Finals...and he became firmly rooted to the useless Boston bench. (More on that later.)
Fun fact: Maxwell once said: "You know what I like to do in the offseason? I like to get in my big, fancy car, drive around to construction sites, and watch guys work. Then I roll down the window and say, 'Guess what boys? I got nothing to do today.'"
The new 2-3-2 format: The NBA, in collusion with CBS, had opted on a new 2-3-2 format for the NBA Finals. The company line was that the change was made to cut down on travel. This, of course, was complete and utter shenanigans. It was done for money, not to save the teams and media a few bucks on travel expenses. As Peter May explained: "CBS needed a series of at least six games to make a profit, and the chances of a six-game series were better with a 2-3-2 format." Proof positive that this decision was not made for basketball purposes: The format has remained 2-2-1-1-1 for every other playoff round. Anyway, the biggest problem with the revised format is that it forces the team with homecourt advantage to play Game 5 on the road. And most NBA experts and players -- and Larry Bird is prime among them -- feel strongly that Game 5 is the most pivotal game of any playoff series.
The Lakers in Game 1: This game has become known as The Memorial Day Massacre, and for good reason: The Celtics won it 148-114. Everybody on the Boston roster was on fire that day, particularly Scott Wedman who shot an NBA Finals record 11-for-11 from the field (including 4-for-4 from three-point range). As K.C. Jones put it: "It was one of those days where if you turn around and close your eyes, the ball's gonna go in." Meanwhile, Kareem was a complete loss: He found himself in early foul trouble, got embarrassed by Robert Parish (who repeatedly ran by the 38-year-old legend like it was a layup drill), and finished with only 12 points and 3 rebounds. (His performance was so bad that he personally apologized to Oh, and the Celtics owned a 63-43 advantage on the boards (Magic pulled down only 1 rebound; he had been averaging 7 RPG for the playoffs).
The Celtics in Game 2: They should have been ready. They should have realized that they wouldn't get all those extra points from Game 1. But they didn't. The Lakers fastbreaked their way to a 21-6 lead which they extended to 18 by halftime. Boston made a run to get back into it, but lost the game -- and homecourt advantage -- with a 109-102 loss. Larry Bird had 30 points and 12 rebounds, but shot only 9-for-21 and committed a team-high 5 turnovers. Dennis Johnson was 6-for-18. Cedric Maxwell was 0-for-1 and had zero rebounds in 11 minutes of lack-tion. Quinn Buckner had a two trillion. And Robert Parish, who sprained an ankle in the second quarter, was destroyed by Kareem (30 points, 17 rebounds, 8 assists, 3 blocks).
The Celtics in Game 3: As Hubie Brown would say, this game was "chippy" -- Boston reserve Ray Williams was tossed for punching Kurt Rambis and Bob McAdoo and Kevin McHale got double-technicals for roughing each other up. And, believe it or not, the Celtics were ahead 48-38 midway through the second quarter. That's when they got Showtimed. The Lakers went on a 27-11 run to end the half and continued pummeling Boston en route to a 136-111 arse-kicking. The Celtics shot 43 percent (compared to 54 percent for L.A.) and got pounded on the boards (63-48). Larry Bird shot 8-for-21, Dennis Johnson was 3-for-14 and Robert Parish (6-for-14) was once again handed his jock by Kareem (26 points, 14 rebounds, 7 assists, 2 steals, 2 blocks).
The Lakers, having learned a lesson from the Celtics' physical tactics in '84 were now bumping and hitting their foes at every opportunity. As Mitch Kupchak, who was then playing for L.A., put it: "All I did was bang in 1985." Lakers assistant coach David Wohl put the team's new "hit 'em hard and hit 'em often" tactic into the following perspective: "They keep stealing your lunch money and every day it's another quarter until you finally get fed up and whack him. Our guys are tired of having their lunch money taken away."
Since the Boston bench was non-existent (more on that later), the starters were getting worn down, leading McHale to complain: "They're beating us on the boards. They're beating us up." Bird, meanwhile, wanted to settle things in the Forum parking lot. "I don't know if the league is up for that, but the Celtics are." You'd think Larry would have had his fill of fighting by now (more on that later).
Larry Spriggs: He had a one trillion in the Lakers' 107-105 loss in Game 4.
K.C. Jones: He had been playing the hell out of the starters all series, and he did it again in Game 5. Dennis Johnson played all 48 minutes, Kevin McHale played 46, Larry Bird and Robert Parish both played 44. Only two players got off the Boston bench: Scott Wedman (19 minutes) and Cedric Maxwell (1 rebound and 1 foul in 5 minutes). Meanwhile, he earned two technicals -- and an ejection -- for arguing with the officials. The Celtics, down by as many as 18, cut the lead to 4 on four different occasions during the final quarter but eventually succumbed 120-111. And the starters, to a man, looked absolutely and utterly spent.
Given the circumstances, Jones should have cut the team's losses and saved his starters for Game 6. But he didn't, and the team paid for it.
Fun fact: James Worthy was poked in the eye in Game 5, and the injury forced him to wear goggles in Game 6. He would go on to wear them for the rest of his career. Just in case you were wondering about that.
Johnny Most: The late, great Celtics radio man opened his Game 6 broadcast by telling everybody that Kurt Rambis had just crawled out of a sewer. Ah, you've gotta love a homer.
The Celtics in Game 6: [Insert the depressing music here.] By losing this game, the Celtics not only surrendered their title, they not only lost to the hated Lakers, they lost the championship series in the Boston Garden for the first time in franchise history. It was a dark day...a very dark day. Larry Bird scored 28 points, but he took 29 shots to do it (and he missed 17 of them). Dennis Johnson and Danny Ainge were a combined 6-for-31. And Robert Parish (5-for-14) was once again demolished by the oldest man in the league (Kareem had 29 points, 7 rebounds and 4 assists despite battling foul trouble all night and eventually fouling out). The game was actually tied 55-55 at halftime, but the Celtics ran out of gas in the second half, mostly because of...
The Boston bench: The Celtics starters played all but 26 of the 240 possible minutes in Game 6. Over the last two games, they played 430 of 480 minutes. Cedric Maxwell, M.L. Carr, Quinn Buckner, Ray Williams, and Carlos Clark didn't play a single minute in the final game. And the Boston starters played every single minute of the second half. But while the bench was Big Reason #2 that the Celtics failed in 1985, Big Reason #1 is...
Larry Bird: Larry won his second MVP in 1985. During the regular season, he averaged 28.7 PPG, 10.5 RPG and 6.6 APG while shooting 52 percent from the floor. Yet he went belly-up in the Finals, shooting 44 percent for the series (and only 42 percent after Boston's killer Game 1). Bird's shooting woes were credited to the outstanding defensive play of Michael Cooper (who after the previous year's Finals had taken video tapes of Bird on his family vacation), in addition to the Lakers solid anti-Bird defensive schemes. As David Wohl put it: "In 1985, we had three, maybe four guys on Larry. We wanted to pressure him all the time. We wanted to deny him the ball, just make him work to even catch it. I think we were more relentless in that series, and in the last two games I think it caught up with them."
And while all that is true, there's more to the story.
Bird started the playoffs on fire and was averaging 30 points (on 50+ percent shooting) and 10 rebounds up until Game 3 of the Eastern Conference Finals. That's when Larry's production really began to fall off. He then averaged 16 PPG and 6.3 RPG for the rest of that series and only 23 PPG and 8 RPG in the Finals. So...what happened?
Larry was already struggling with existing back and elbow injuries when he showed up to Game 3 of the Eastern Conference Finals with a heavily bandaged right index finger (this, by the way, was the same finger that had been mangled in a college softball game before Larry's rookie season). The injury hadn't occurred in a game and nobody within the Celtics organization would comment on it. And while the press sort of left it alone until after the playoffs, it became a three-ring media circus over the summer (well, in Boston, anyway). The story ran in both the Boston Herald and the Boston Globe. And here are as many of the facts as may ever be known (since Larry himself has chosen to never publicly discuss it):
On May 16, 1985 -- the off-day between Games 2 and 3 of the Eastern Conference Finals -- Larry, Quinn Buckner and Larry's friend Nick Harris went to a Boston bar named Chelsea's. At some point in the evening, Larry got into a fight with a man named Mike Harlow (who was a bartender from a nearby bar named Little Rascals and a former college football player) in an alley next to Chelsea's. During fight, Larry knocked Harlow the hell out and injured his right index finger.
Now, there are two versions of why the fight took place. In version one, Larry's friend Harris had been beaten up by Harlow (allegedly for repeatedly hitting on Harlow's girlfriend) and Larry came to Harris' five-fingered rescue. In version two, Larry made the advances on Harlow's girlfriend and that was why the two men fought (although that story didn't explain why Harris got beaten up first).
Either way, Harlow was hurt badly enough (or pretended to be hurt badly enough) to be admitted to Massachusetts General Hospital after the fight. He then filed a lawsuit against Larry. But before it went to trial, and out-of-court settlement was reached (for somewhere between $15,000 and $21,000) and the documents were sealed.
The fact that this happened while Larry was hanging out with Harris wasn't a big surprise. According to the Boston Herald, Harris (then a 39-year-old used car salesman) had previously been convicted for selling drugs, fixing odometers, and "fraudulent bookkeeping." The Celtics didn't want Larry hanging out with his shady buddy, and they had even asked the Massachusetts State Police to run a background check on Harris (the Celtics denied this, although the state police confirmed it). It was also reported that the Celtics had specifically asked Larry to end his friendship with Harris and Larry refused (though both parties denied it), while Bird's agent, Bob Woolf, "literally begged" Larry's close friends to convince Larry to ditch Harris. Eventually, after the Finals, Larry did so.
So yeah, the Lakers played great and the Boston bench sucked. But it is also quite possible -- even probable -- that Larry Bird cost the Celtics the 1985 NBA championship.
Even more sour grapes: Kevin McHale remained convinced that the Celtics should have won it all in '85. And years later he was still talking about it. "We had a better team than they did that year. Max got hurt and everything, but they came to the Garden not thinking they could be us in that sixth game, no way. We had played like crap. We shot the ball poorly. If we had played well that sixth game, I'm not sure they'd have showed up for the seventh game. They were a great team and all, but they did not believe at that point that they could beat us. That was a turning point for them." Uh, sure, Kevin. Whatever you say.
Jerry Buss and Pat Riley, quote machines: After the game, Buss told Brent Musburger: "This trophy removes the most odious sentence in the English Language. It can never be said again that 'the Lakers have never beaten the Celtics.'" Riley added: "They can no longer mock us as they did a year ago." I will now throw up in my mouth again...
Sources: NBA.com, Wikipedia, Basketball-reference.com, Ever Green by Dan Shaughnessy, Drive: The Story of My Life by Larry Bird and Bob Ryan, The Big Three by Peter May, Larry Bird: The Making of an American Sports Legend by Lee Daniel Levine, and this awesome Web site that has box scores for every NBA Finals through 2003.
Labels: Boston Celtics, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, Larry Bird, Los Angeles Lakers, Magic Johnson, NBA Finals, Worst of Celtics-Lakers
This is Part 6 of our The Worst of Celtics-Lakers series. This was the first Magic versus Bird Finals and the series in which the Lakers -- after a break that lasted almost two decades -- once again got to be the Celtics' bitch.
1984 NBA Finals
Short-shorts: Come on. Just look at that picture!
Sheer and utter ugliness: There's no way to put this bluntly, so I'll put it nerdly: The 1983-84 Boston Celtics looked like they belonged in the Star Wars Cantina moreso than the NBA Finals. Larry Bird (as Bill Simmons has pointed out many, many times) was rocking the world's premier blond afro-mullet and a mustache that looked like something from an out-of-the-bag Halloween costume. Dennis Johnson was a black man with freckles. Robert Parish had an "I'm about to choke a bitch" scowl permanently frozen on a face that looked like it was chiseled out of granite. Kevin McHale looked like the love child of Herman Munster and Plastic Man. M.L. Carr tried to camouflage his resemblance to a chipmunk with a porn-star mustache. Greg Kite -- bless his heart -- was a goofy white goon. Oh, and Danny Ainge, while not technically ugly, looked like that whining, bratty kid you hated in kindergarten.
M.L. Carr, quote machine: Carr saw the Lakers as "preppies" and "wimps" because they were based in southern California, which at that time was regarded as the preppie capitol of the world. And, prior to Game 1, he didn't think those pretty boys could hack the brutal conditions in Boston Garden. Said Carr: "Get the convertible out, put the top down, and don't be coming here with any Polos and Pierre Cardins. Make sure you don't mind getting wet, 'cause the Garden's gonna be a sweatbox."
Scheduling: The Lakers eliminated the Phoenix Suns in Game 6 of the Western Conference Finals on a Friday night (West Coast time). Game 1 of the NBA Finals was immediately scheduled for Sunday night in Boston (East Coast time). But then Game 2 wouldn't be until the following Thursday. Why? Network television, my friends. CBS refused to disrupt its prime-time lineup during May sweeps and David Stern -- then in his first year as league commissioner -- didn't want the Finals shown on tape delay (as they had been in the early 1980s). Therefore Game 1 had to be aired before sweeps started and Game 2 would be aired only after the sweeps ended. Because God knows that the American people needed to see what happened on the sweeps episodes of Scarecrow and Mrs. King and Knots Landing.
Fun fact: Ever wonder why the NBA regular season begins in November instead of October, as it did back in the 80s? Stern did that so the Finals would come after the May sweeps and therefore be "ready for prime-time." Seriously.
K.C. Jones: When the Finals began, K.C. decided to put the 6'2" Gerald Henderson on the 6'9" Magic Johnson. He made this decision despite the fact that the Celtics had acquired Dennis Johnson in the offseason for the express purpose of defending guards like Andrew Toney and Magic. The reason? Because Magic was guarding Henderson, and that way Henderson could stick with Magic when the Lakers chose to fastbreak (which was, you know, every possession). Basically, Jones was terrified that D.J. wouldn't be able to find Magic in transition, which was a woeful underestimation of D.J.'s skills as a defensive player. K.C. stuck with this ludicrous game plan until midway through Game 4.
The Celtics in Game 1: They were rested. They were at home, where they had been 33-8 during the regular season and were 9-0 in the playoffs. The Lakers, meanwhile, were exhausted from playing on Friday night and taking a cross-country commercial flight to Boston (they didn't even have time for a real practice; they simply sketched a court on the hotel floor and walked through plays). Nonetheless, L.A. jumped all over Boston, building a 20-6 lead in the first six minutes. They led by 13 at halftime (65-52) and by 19 midway through the third quarter (73-54). The Celtics made a valiant comeback attempt, but fell short and lost 115-109.
For the game, Boston shot 43 percent (compared to 57 percent for the Lakers) and committed 17 turnovers. Cedric Maxwell was 3-for-8 from the field. Larry Bird shot 7-for-17 and committed 6 turnovers. Robert Parish (13 points) got destroyed by the 37-year-old Kareem Abdul-Jabbar (32 points, 8 rebounds, 5 assists) before fouling out (and Kareem was suffering from a migraine headache at the time). Oh, and Danny Ainge had a two trillion.
Kevin McHale's missed freethrows: Having already lost Game 1 at home, the Celtics absolutely could not afford to lose Game 2. Despite that, they were facing a two-point deficit with 20 seconds left. But Kevin McHale had been fouled and had the chance to tie the game by converting a couple foul shots. But he didn't. He bonked both of them...and his knees were shaking.
Here's how Larry Legend remembered it: "I'll never forget it. He missed the first one and now he's worried, so now he's trying to guide the ball in. He didn't make that one either. What we didn't know until we saw the tape was that while he was lining up that second shot, Kevin's knees were clacking back and forth. They were really shaking. Oh, we got on him hard. Max was leading it, calling him 'Clacker' and 'Slacker' and 'Knee Shaker.' Everybody said, 'How would you like to have Kevin taking the last shot of the game?' It was so funny." Yeah. Funny. But only because the Celtics won the game. And that happened because of...
The tragic turnover, Part I: Thanks to McHale's blown freethrows, the Lakers were still leading 113-111 with 20 seconds. Coach Pat Riley had told Magic to call a timeout if McHale made his foul shots. Magic, however, misunderstood and called a timeout after the misses. This allowed the Celtics to set up their defense as opposed to forcing them to commit a quick foul. After the timeout, Magic inbounded the ball to James Worthy at midcourt, and Worthy tried to lob the ball over the Boston D to Byron Scott. But Gerald Henderson rondo'd the pass and took it in for a layup.
This is how Henderson remembered it: "We were pretty down after Kevin missed those fuckin' freethrows. M.L. and me had been coming in as a defensive tandem for a while, and we'd tell each other, 'Let's make somethin' happen. We gotta make it happen.' It wasn't hard to get pumped up with M.L. around. I think I had Byron Scott. Magic took the ball out. He passed it to Worthy, and I left my man anticipating because whoever went to double-team Worthy had left their man. You rotate and I rotated to the open man. I guess it was an instinctive thing. I was at full speed. After I got it, Worthy came over. He wanted the ball back, but at that point, it's two."
The tragic turnover, Part II: Henderson's steal and layup made it 113-all, but the Lakers had the ball and 13 seconds...which should have been all the time they needed to get a good shot. Particularly since they had Kareem (with his unblockable skyhook) and Worthy had been on fire all day (11-for-12). But Magic dribbled out the clock without attempting a shot or a pass. And it wasn't because of the Celtics defense. He just had a brainfart of legendary proportions. The Celtics went on to win in overtime, 124-121.
The Celtics in Game 3: This ass-kicking couldn't have been more complete if Larry Bird had strapped a self-operated ass-kicking machine to his back. The Lakers were already leading by 11 at halftime. But then...then they exploded for 47 points in the third quarter. During one particularly brutal five-minute run, the Lakers scored 18 consecutive points while the Celtics missed 10 shots and committed 5 turnovers. Boston shot 39 percent for the game, got outrebounded 63-44, and eventually lost 137-104. It was the worst loss in the Celtics playoff history.
Bird busts his teammates, Part I: After the game, Bird was pissed. And Larry did what many frustrated athletes have done in the same situation: He threw his team under the bus. Said Bird: "We played like a bunch of sissies. I know the heart and soul of this team, and today the heart wasn't there, that's for sure. I can't believe a team like this would let L.A. come out and push us around like they did. Today I didn't feel we played hard. We got beat bad, and it's very embarrassing." Ye-ouch.
Bird's "Sissy Speech" is now the stuff of legends. Boston sportswriter Peter May called it a "Churchhillian 'We shall fight on the beaches' address," and many people credited it with turning the series around. That said, it would not go over well today. I mean, think about it. When Kobe Bryant went out shakin' trees, he got crucified. When Joakim Noah correctly accused his teammates of not being dedicated to winning, his coach told him to shut up. When Carmelo Anthony called his team out for quitting in the playoffs -- which they did -- he got blasted by the press. Times, they have 'a changed.
The "Finals MVP" announcement: The day after Game 3, the Los Angeles papers began a print campaign to have James Worthy named Finals MVP, despite the fact that the Lakers were still two games away from winning the title. This enraged the Celtics, and Cedric Maxwell noted that he had to play six games and win a championship before being named Finals MVP in 1981.
McHale's infamous clothesline: Game 4 was what Hubie Brown would call "chippy." Larry Bird ass-checked Michael Cooper into the stands. Kareem whacked Bird in the face with an elbow, and Larry responded by getting all up in Kareem's face. There was pushing. There was shoving. And all this came to a head in the second quarter when Kevin McHale almost killed Kurt Rambis.
This was one of the most violent plays in NBA history. In his book Who's Better, Who's Best In Basketball, Elliot Kalb claimed that this play opened the door for the hand-to-hand combat tactics of the Bad Boys Piston teams of the late 80s (and therefore those brutal Knicks and Heat teams from the 90s). But according to the man who committed the foul, it was kind of an accident.
Said McHale: "I didn't know what the hell was going on there. Sitting next to M.L. on the bench, he'd scream every time they got a layup. 'No more layups! Grab 'em, grab em!' I heard this for six minutes every game. (McHale was still the sixth man at this point.) So I got out there, and coming down on the break, they passed it one way, they got it back to Kurt, and I just...turned. It looked like I horsecollared him. I was trying to grab him. His momentum carried my left arm so far away I couldn't lock 'em. He just went down really hard, and I went, 'Oooooh.' At that point, it was such a physical series, I wasn't going to help him up. I felt bad, and I hoped he wasn't hurt. Hey, if I was trying to hurt somebody, I'd try to hurt Magic or somebody, not Kurt Rambis. It just happened. That kind of set the tone for our team, but I just wanted to grab the guy. I sure didn't want to get him like that."
The Lakers choke job: Most people believe that McHale's clothesline is what changed the series. As Cedric Maxwell put it: "Before Kevin McHale hit Kurt Rambis, the Lakers were just running across the street whenever they wanted. Now they stop at the corner, push the button, wait for the light, and look both ways."
But here's the thing: The Lakers were leading by six points when that happened, and they were still leading by five with less than a minute left in regulation. But Parish converted a three-point play after a sequence in which the Celtics got three straight offensive rebounds, and then Bird hit two freethrows with 16 seconds left. The Lakers had the ball and a chance to win it, but Parish stole a pass from Magic, who was trying to get it into Worthy in the post.
In overtime, Magic missed two huge freethrows. Then Worthy missed one and Maxwell gave him the choke sign. The score was tied with 16 seconds left when Magic was forced to pick up Bird (Michael Cooper had fallen down). Larry promptly sank a fallaway shot over Magic and the Celtics went on to win 129-125.
Bird's followup: After Game 4, the press was excited to find out how Bird felt about how his teammates had responded to his "sissy challenge." And this is what Larry said: "It was better. We just played like a bunch of women tonight." Ha, ha...that crazy Larry.
Fun fact: The Larry Bird: A Basketball Legend DVD uses this quote after the Celtics' Game 3 loss, presumably because they didn't have the "sissies" comment on film. But trust me: He said it after Game 4.
The Boston press: When the Lakers returned to Boston for Game 5, they had a surprise waiting for them. The Boston papers had printed the name of the hotel the Lakers were staying in. As a result, they were harassed all night by phone calls and false fire alarms. I'm guessing they didn't get much sleep.
The Game 5 heat wave: Ah, the greatness of Red Auerbach. He made a phone call to God and asked for a heat wave before Game 5. And he got it. It was 97 degrees and humid in Boston on that fateful day. And since the Garden -- which was built in 1928 -- had no air conditioning or windows, it felt more like 200 degrees. It was so bad that referee Hugh Evans had to leave at halftime and Kareem spent time on the bench desperately sucking air from an oxygen mask. This is how Kareem described the oppressive conditions: "I suggest that you go to a local steam bath, do one hundred pushups with all your clothes on, and then try to run back and forth for 48 minutes."
I'm not saying the heat is why the Lakers lost. But it sure didn't help their cause.
The Celtics in the final 16 minutes of Game 6: Boston was leading by 11 in the third quarter (84-73) and then everything came undone. L.A. outscored them 46-25 in the final 16 minutes to win 119-108. I guess you could have blamed Greg Kite and his one trillion, but Bird didn't...
Bird busts his teammates, Part II: Bird was great in Game 6: 28 points, 14 rebounds, 8 assists, 3 blocks. But he was very unhappy afterwards that he only got 11 shots (particularly when D.J. had 20 shots and Henderson had 17). Said Bird: "I wanted the ball in my hands, especially when the 11-point lead was going down. I was making things happen when I had it. I didn't get it enough when we needed it." But Bird wasn't only mad at his teammates.
Bird's conspiracy theory: I wrote about this last year, but Larry believed that Game 6 was rigged. Said Bird: "Stern told a fan that the NBA needed a seven-game series, that the league needed the money. When the commissioner makes a statement like that to a fan, you know it's going to be tough. When Stern makes a statement like that, things are going to happen. You just don't make statements like that and not expect anything out of it. He's the commissioner and he shouldn't be saying anything like that. The NBA wanted a seventh game because they wanted to make more money and they got their wish. There is no reason for me to lie. He said it. He's a man and he'll live up to it. He may say he said it in jest. But I'm out there trying to make a living and win a championship."
Stern chose not to respond to Bird directly, but NBA spokesman Brian McIntyre said: "David said Bird's comment is ridiculous. Like every fan in America, he has been looking forward to a seventh game. It's a dream matchup, and everybody has wanted to see a seven-game series since Day 1."
What I would have asked Bird is this: If the game was rigged for the Lakers to win, why did the Celtics have a 35-17 advantage in freethrow attempts?
Lakers fans: After Game 6, M.L. Carr was hit in the face and eyes by a beer cup full of an unidentified liquid. (Carr said "I don't know what it was, but it definitely wasn't beer.") Carr's eyes were so irritated by whatever it was that he had to wear goggles in Game 7. This act so enraged Maxwell that he told DJ: "Let's kill them on Tuesday. Let's kill those freaks." (Max had 24 points, 8 rebounds and 8 assists in Game 7.)
The climactic Game 7: The Celtics shot 39 percent from the field in the final game. So how'd they win? By raping the Lakers on the boards (52-33, including 20 offensive rebounds). Oh, and they also got 51 freethrow attempts (compared to 28 for the Lakers). Some of those came at the end of the game when the Lakers had to intentionally foul, but still...
Tragic Johnson: If you've made it this far, you'll notice that there was a disturbing trend throughout this series: Magic throwing the ball away and missing freethrows at critical moments. And it happened again in Game 7. The Lakers came back from a 14-point deficit to trail by only three with about a minute left. Magic had the ball, but D.J. knocked it loose. Michael Cooper recovered it and gave it back to Magic, who once again had it knocked away...this time by Maxwell. The Celtics recovered and the Lakers were forced to foul D.J., who put the game away with a couple freethrows.
Magic didn't take it well. After the game, he stayed in the showers for so long that Isiah Thomas, who had come to the game to support his longtime friend, went looking for him. This is how Magic put it just recently: "But when Larry beat us the first time in '84 I think it was, you know, I was devastated. I went into hiding for about a month, sat in the dark. I was so mad, upset, you know, because the Celtics beat the Lakers once again."
This fact wasn't lost on the press, who reported on Magic's depression for most of the summer. In response, McHale started referring to him as "Tragic Johnson."
Red Auerbach, the gracious winner: Red, never one to miss a chance to stick it to the Lakers or the press, had this to say after the game: "You guys (the media) were talking about a dynasty the Lakers had. But what dynasty? Here's the only dynasty right here. This team."
Kevin McHale: Most people think that Bird wouldn't have won a championship without McHale. But it should be noted that when the Celtics won it all in '81, McHale averaged 10 MPG in the Finals. And he didn't exactly light it up in '84, either. Here are Kevin's averages for the championship series: 13.4 PPG, 5.9 RPG, 44 percent shooting (33-73). Not exactly impressive, is it?
Dennis Johnson, quote machine: Per the usual custom, the Celtics were invited to the White House to be honored for winning the NBA title. President Ronald Reagan spoke to them in 90-degree heat on Rose Garden Lawn. Reagan said: "As the leaders of your organization changed, as one group of stars was replaced by another group, the Celtics not only survived, they maintained their championship form because the Celtics have been a team of champions, larger and greater than any one player, coach or manager." DJ, amazed at how unfazed Reagan was by the heat, took the microphone and said: "Mr. President, how do you stand out here and don't sweat?"
Sources: NBA.com, Wikipedia, Basketball-reference.com, Ever Green by Dan Shaughnessy, Drive: The Story of My Life by Larry Bird and Bob Ryan, The Big Three by Peter May, Larry Bird: The Making of an American Sports Legend by Lee Daniel Levine, and The Boston Celtics 1984 Championship Official Souvenir Book.
Labels: Boston Celtics, Larry Bird, Los Angeles Lakers, Magic Johnson, NBA Finals, Worst of Celtics-Lakers
Allan Houston. Charles Oakley. Penny Hardaway. Reggie Miller. These and other former All-Stars are either making a comeback or are thinking about making a comeback. Even Greg "Dancing Queen" Ostertag is contemplating a return to the NBA, and he wasn't any good to begin with.
Nostalgia is fun. It's why we hang on to old toys and watch ESPN Classic. Spiderman #300 is a collector's item, but that's not why I keep it sealed in a plastic bag and stored inside a moisture-protected box. I do all that so I can see Spiderman punch Green Goblin* in the face any time I want. Reliving our happiest memories is one of the highlights of human existence, so it's totally natural to get excited when a living legend crawls out of the mothballs. Although he retired in 1973, Wilt Chamberlain made an annual "I just might come back someday" announcement up through the late 80s...and people would wet themselves every single time. Seriously, stock prices for adult diapers would skyrocket whenever Wilt did a television interview.
We all want to see the great ones play again, but once the initial nostalgic blitz fades, we're left with one incontrovertible fact: Comebacks never end well. Not for George Mikan (who averaged 10 PPG and lasted half a season), or Bob Cousy (who scored 0.7 PPG and lasted only seven games), or Dave Cowens (who averaged 8 PPG in 40 games), or even Michael Jordan** (who compiled a 74-90 record and zero playoff appearances in two seasons with the Wizards).
I guess Magic Johnson did "okay" in '96 -- 14 PPG, 7 APG, 6 RPG, 32 games, and a first round playoff exit -- but he came back fat and sassy; his once-slender body was covered in 40 pounds of excess blubber, he feuded with his younger teammates, and he even got suspended for chest-bumping an official. Watching the greatest point guard of all time play power forward and waddle up and down the court -- leading my college roommate to quip "Hey, the Lakers are running the FAT BREAK!!" -- ruined about 50 percent of my childhood memories. (The other half were ruined when I accidentally walked in on my grandparents playing "Queen of Pain." Don't ask).
Which brings me to my next point. I don't know what's more depressing: Watching formerly great players come back and fail, or watching them transmogrify into disgusting fatties. What exactly happens when NBA players retire? Do they invest their entire pension on Twinkies and Moon Pies? According to sports-nutrition and weight-loss experts, the answer is obvious: Active athletes need more calories than they get, while retired athletes gobble up more calories than they need. Ex-pros transform into lumbering ham monsters the same way the rest of us do: Too much food, not enough exercise.
Magic and Charles Barkley are prime examples of this. If you ever watch the TNT Pregame Show and Halftime Report, you'll notice those guys are always on opposite ends of the broadcasting table. That's to keep the studio from tipping over. Even Michael Jordan's getting into the fat act; last season he was spotted in a skybox at a nationally televised Bulls game sporting a tragic yellow turtleneck and a jiggly paunch. And let's not forget Larry Legend. This picture was taken at a Celtics/Pacers game last November.
Why, Larry? Oh god, why?
Brett over at The Association thought it was a fat guy in a Larry Bird costume. I can only wish that was true. It's all there: The turtleneck (which people apparently think is some sort of "fat camouflage"), the double-chin, the 12-pack abs. Holy god, his head is so bulbous his hair doesn't even fit on it anymore. I didn't know that was even possible. WTF??
There's a simple answer. Larry's a junk food junkie. This is obvious from the products he endorses. Take this old commercial for Lay's brand Potato Chips. The premise is that Kareem Abdul-Jabbar bets Larry that he can't eat only one lard-soaked grease chip. And of course he can't. This commercial also introduces us to the nameless horror of Larry Bird's bald head.
There are others, but my personal favorite is a McDonald's clip for the "Big 33" burger. The commercial opens with Bird citing his height and what we must assume was his playing weight, and explaining that he's a "big guy" and an "awful big eater." Next, Larry confides that he loves "hambuggers," which is why he typically eats six regular burgers and/or three Quarter Pounders in a single sitting. He then introduces us to his personalized burger: A Quarter Pounder with Cheese that's wrapped in bacon and soaked in barbeque sauce. Finally, we're treated to a montage of Larry stuffing his face full of Big 33 burgers, followed by glowing praise delivered in his trademark Midwestern drawl: "Purty tastee."
The burger, or bugger, actually doesn't look half bad. I'm sure that it is, as Bird helpfully pointed out, pretty tasty. But that doesn't mean you have to eat a plateful of them. I don't know. The greats ones are always described as having a burning hunger for winning. Maybe it's just a burning hunger, period. I can only hope that Larry, Magic, and the others hook up with the NutriSystem Diet. Hey, it worked for Dan Marino.
* Spiderman actually punched Venom in the face in issue 300. I just wanted to say Green Goblin.
** Let's get something straight: I don't count Jordan's first comeback as a true "comeback." Mike took a year off in his prime and came back in his prime. That's not a comeback, it's a vacation.
Nostalgia is fun. It's why we hang on to old toys and watch ESPN Classic. Spiderman #300 is a collector's item, but that's not why I keep it sealed in a plastic bag and stored inside a moisture-protected box. I do all that so I can see Spiderman punch Green Goblin* in the face any time I want. Reliving our happiest memories is one of the highlights of human existence, so it's totally natural to get excited when a living legend crawls out of the mothballs. Although he retired in 1973, Wilt Chamberlain made an annual "I just might come back someday" announcement up through the late 80s...and people would wet themselves every single time. Seriously, stock prices for adult diapers would skyrocket whenever Wilt did a television interview.
We all want to see the great ones play again, but once the initial nostalgic blitz fades, we're left with one incontrovertible fact: Comebacks never end well. Not for George Mikan (who averaged 10 PPG and lasted half a season), or Bob Cousy (who scored 0.7 PPG and lasted only seven games), or Dave Cowens (who averaged 8 PPG in 40 games), or even Michael Jordan** (who compiled a 74-90 record and zero playoff appearances in two seasons with the Wizards).
I guess Magic Johnson did "okay" in '96 -- 14 PPG, 7 APG, 6 RPG, 32 games, and a first round playoff exit -- but he came back fat and sassy; his once-slender body was covered in 40 pounds of excess blubber, he feuded with his younger teammates, and he even got suspended for chest-bumping an official. Watching the greatest point guard of all time play power forward and waddle up and down the court -- leading my college roommate to quip "Hey, the Lakers are running the FAT BREAK!!" -- ruined about 50 percent of my childhood memories. (The other half were ruined when I accidentally walked in on my grandparents playing "Queen of Pain." Don't ask).
Which brings me to my next point. I don't know what's more depressing: Watching formerly great players come back and fail, or watching them transmogrify into disgusting fatties. What exactly happens when NBA players retire? Do they invest their entire pension on Twinkies and Moon Pies? According to sports-nutrition and weight-loss experts, the answer is obvious: Active athletes need more calories than they get, while retired athletes gobble up more calories than they need. Ex-pros transform into lumbering ham monsters the same way the rest of us do: Too much food, not enough exercise.
Magic and Charles Barkley are prime examples of this. If you ever watch the TNT Pregame Show and Halftime Report, you'll notice those guys are always on opposite ends of the broadcasting table. That's to keep the studio from tipping over. Even Michael Jordan's getting into the fat act; last season he was spotted in a skybox at a nationally televised Bulls game sporting a tragic yellow turtleneck and a jiggly paunch. And let's not forget Larry Legend. This picture was taken at a Celtics/Pacers game last November.
Brett over at The Association thought it was a fat guy in a Larry Bird costume. I can only wish that was true. It's all there: The turtleneck (which people apparently think is some sort of "fat camouflage"), the double-chin, the 12-pack abs. Holy god, his head is so bulbous his hair doesn't even fit on it anymore. I didn't know that was even possible. WTF??
There's a simple answer. Larry's a junk food junkie. This is obvious from the products he endorses. Take this old commercial for Lay's brand Potato Chips. The premise is that Kareem Abdul-Jabbar bets Larry that he can't eat only one lard-soaked grease chip. And of course he can't. This commercial also introduces us to the nameless horror of Larry Bird's bald head.
There are others, but my personal favorite is a McDonald's clip for the "Big 33" burger. The commercial opens with Bird citing his height and what we must assume was his playing weight, and explaining that he's a "big guy" and an "awful big eater." Next, Larry confides that he loves "hambuggers," which is why he typically eats six regular burgers and/or three Quarter Pounders in a single sitting. He then introduces us to his personalized burger: A Quarter Pounder with Cheese that's wrapped in bacon and soaked in barbeque sauce. Finally, we're treated to a montage of Larry stuffing his face full of Big 33 burgers, followed by glowing praise delivered in his trademark Midwestern drawl: "Purty tastee."
The burger, or bugger, actually doesn't look half bad. I'm sure that it is, as Bird helpfully pointed out, pretty tasty. But that doesn't mean you have to eat a plateful of them. I don't know. The greats ones are always described as having a burning hunger for winning. Maybe it's just a burning hunger, period. I can only hope that Larry, Magic, and the others hook up with the NutriSystem Diet. Hey, it worked for Dan Marino.
* Spiderman actually punched Venom in the face in issue 300. I just wanted to say Green Goblin.
** Let's get something straight: I don't count Jordan's first comeback as a true "comeback." Mike took a year off in his prime and came back in his prime. That's not a comeback, it's a vacation.
Labels: Charles Barkley, comebacks, fat guys, Larry Bird, Magic Johnson, Michael Jordan, Reggie Miller, Wilt Chamberlain
For somewhere north of 50 bucks, you can own a genuine McFarlane of Michigan State's Magic Johnson (doing his best Wilt Chamberlain impression, apparently) a split second away from sending a jumper by Indiana State's Larry Bird straight down Larry's throat.
I wonder -- if the outcome of the game had been different, would Magic still look like a more muscular Bill Russell? And would he still have arms that look like they belong on Optimus Prime?
I wonder -- if the outcome of the game had been different, would Magic still look like a more muscular Bill Russell? And would he still have arms that look like they belong on Optimus Prime?
Labels: eBay, Larry Bird, Magic Johnson
un-emulate-able (un-em'-yoo-lat'-a'-buhl) adjective. Used to describe a basketball player whose physical abilities and/or style of play cannot be duplicated.
Usage example: Players like Larry Bird and Magic Johnson are truly un-emulate-able.
Word History: The term was coined by Shaquille O'Neal on March 15, 2007, after the Miami Heat notched a 93-86 victory over New Jersey Nets. Said Shaq: "I'm un-emulate-able. I took the files and deleted them, ate 'em, used 'em in the bathroom, flushed it into the sewage plant, and blew the sewage plant up. So there's no way my style can be copied. It's gone." Reading between the lines, it appears that Shaq's savage hunger has reached the point where human food can no longer fulfill the nutritional requirements of his monstrous body, forcing him to feed on abstract concepts like "style of play" and "government intelligence." Reading even further between the lines, it seems that his bodily excretions also serve as powerful explosives. Let the world's toilets...beware.
Is it just me, or does it look like they're double-teaming the championship trophy?
Usage example: Players like Larry Bird and Magic Johnson are truly un-emulate-able.
Word History: The term was coined by Shaquille O'Neal on March 15, 2007, after the Miami Heat notched a 93-86 victory over New Jersey Nets. Said Shaq: "I'm un-emulate-able. I took the files and deleted them, ate 'em, used 'em in the bathroom, flushed it into the sewage plant, and blew the sewage plant up. So there's no way my style can be copied. It's gone." Reading between the lines, it appears that Shaq's savage hunger has reached the point where human food can no longer fulfill the nutritional requirements of his monstrous body, forcing him to feed on abstract concepts like "style of play" and "government intelligence." Reading even further between the lines, it seems that his bodily excretions also serve as powerful explosives. Let the world's toilets...beware.
Labels: Larry Bird, Magic Johnson, Miami Heat, New Jersey Nets, Shaq, Word of the Day
I've already reminisced about the NBA on NBC, which was a huge part of what made me love basketball in the early to mid-90s. This was (to me) their best and most iconic intro: Larry Bird, Magic Johnson, and Michael Jordan passing the ball back and forth to the Roundball Rock theme. Still gives me the chills...
Labels: Larry Bird, Magic Johnson, Michael Jordan, NBA on NBC
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