A New Chapter in Classic Magic-Bird Tale

KANSAS CITY, Mo. -- The National Collegiate Basketball Hall of Fame inducted eight new members Sunday night, and nearly half of the two-hour ceremony was devoted to two of them. Not that it wasn't deserved: from the moment the list of enshrinees for the Hall's fourth class was announced, it was universally known that it would be a Magic-Bird celebration.

Earvin "Magic'' Johnson and Larry Bird did not disappoint, as they served up memories of the moment they shared 30 years ago in the NCAA championship game, spoke of the legacies they carved out in basketball at every level -- and remained in their easily-recognizable characters almost as if they were scripted for the event.

The perfect illustration: at one point in the informal setting of the induction, they sat on the stage in the historic Midland Theater in downtown Kansas City in conversation with broadcasters and masters of ceremony Clark Kellogg and Steve Lavin. Johnson did a spot-on imitation of his Michigan State coach and fellow inductee Jud Heathcote, who had instructed him to impersonate Bird for the scout team the day before the 1979 final against Indiana State. Stomping, smacking his forehead and screeching, "E, you have to be Larry Bird!'' Johnson had the crowd roaring.

It was all in answer to a question about how each player would have scouted the other's game. When it was Bird's turn, he nodded at Johnson and said, "Ah, he's pretty good.'' It evoked laughter as well.

Thus, Johnson played the flamboyant, gregarious one and Bird the low-key introvert. They comfortably played up the differences that made their face-off that much more compelling, as well as the friendship that famously but slowly evolved out of their rivalry, all of which culminated not only in a best-selling book they've co-authored, When the Game Was Ours, but a long-awaited joint induction into a basketball shrine.

The Magic-Bird presence did eclipse a sterling class: players Wayman Tisdale and Travis Grant, coaches Heathcote and Gene Bartow and contributors Walter Byers and Bill Wall. It also dominated a ceremony that ran the gamut from bittersweet (Tisdale, the three-time all-American at Oklahoma and 12-year NBA player, died of cancer last May, and his widow, Regina, accepted the award) to comic (of all people, Bob Knight, there ostensibly to present for Byers, the NCAA's first executive director, and Wall, longtime head of USA Basketball, did a good 20 minutes of stand-up about both men and the state of the game past and present).

But Bird and Johnson were the stars, so much so that, in much the way the Naismith Hall of Fame moved its induction to a larger venue in deference to the drawing power of Michael Jordan, this induction was moved to the newly-renovated, 82-year-old Midland Theater from the Sprint Center and the adjoining College Basketball Experience because of the magnetism of the two marquee players. They drew the longest, and most, standing ovations of the night. (Next on that list was Tisdale, whose smooth jazz from his successful post-basketball recording career was played for the incoming crowd beforehand.) During the ceremony and earlier at a press conference and reception, Bird and Johnson were the center of attention from the moment they entered the room.

If it seems that the two -- who both have admitted that the competition against each other was too fierce early on for any friendship to develop -- grow more inseparable every day, it's because they have been recently, with the book's release last month and the induction Sunday. Even doing the book seemed natural, Johnson said earlier in the evening: "We both were probably going to write a book by ourselves, then I called him and told him, 'We might as well do the book together.' And it worked. Every time I talk to someone, they say, 'I'm so glad you decided to do the book together, and tell your stories about yourselves.' "

He also said that, even in doing the book with longtime NBA writer Jackie MacMullan, he didn't find out more about Bird in the process: "We've spent so much time already together, we pretty much knew each other,'' he said. "Nothing surprises each other by now.''

Johnson, of course, had to be pulled away from reporters, photographers and fans before heading to the induction. Bird accommodated well-wishers, but he didn't need to be asked twice when it was time to go, either.

"I was a shy kid. I don't like big crowds, I don't like a lot of focus on me, so this is very uncomfortable
for me."
-- Larry Bird on his fame and popularity "I'd always thought that once I'd retired [as a player], it would be over with,'' Bird said of the enduring fame and popularity he's attained. "I was a shy kid. I don't like big crowds, I don't like a lot of focus on me, so this is very uncomfortable for me.'' He chuckled, then added, "That's why I like to do things with him, because he does all the talking.''

When he was introduced at the press conference, Bird noted that Tisdale's wife, Regina, had spoken very briefly, and cracked, "I'll get an extra two minutes, but we'll give Magic an extra 15.'' Sure enough, when Magic got to the microphone, he entertained with stories about sneaking into Michigan State practices as a kid, how overdue it was for Heathcote to be honored somewhere, about how he met his wife, Cookie, as an undergrad, and how he almost left school after his freshman year when the then-Kansas City Kings made him an in-person pitch in town, then changed his mind because he thought he could win a championship by staying in school. "I took the barbecue, though,'' he added.

Johnson also thanked Bird with praise he has repeated often, and repeated later that night at the induction: "He made me a better basketball player, and not only that, he made me a better man.''

Both were in awe of the improbability of their entering the college shrine together. When Magic Johnson first left the NBA in 1991, it was because of his contracting the AIDS virus, and Hall of Fame induction was the furthest thought from most minds. Bird retired a year later, then Johnson made a brief comeback in 1995, and they ended up entering Springfield four years apart. The Collegiate Hall of Fame didn't even come into existence until 2006, four years after Johnson was inducted in the Naismith shrine.

"It's better than if we had gone in separate,'' Johnson said. "This is powerful.''

Asked if he was amazed at how they were entering together three decades after taking the national stage together, Bird said, "My whole life's been amazing. It's been a ride.''