This cover story, by Paul Attner, originally appeared in the April 27, 1987, issue of The Sporting News under the headline “Move Over Kareem — It’s Magic Time” came as the Lakers became Magic Johnson’s team, en route to the Lakers’ NBA Finals win over the Celtics, 4-2, and the Los Angeles icon’s being named MVP as well as TSN’s Player of the Year.
LOS ANGELES — This is the season when all the pieces of the basketball puzzle have fallen into place for Earvin Johnson. He was always the consummate showman, but never an eye-popping scorer. No matter how much court magic he produced, he couldn't hide his unimpressive career point totals.
So Johnson developed a scoring arrogance this year, daring defenses to stop not only his passing, but also his shooting. He raised his average to 23.9 points a game, almost six above his career norm, yet he still led the National Basketball Association in assists for the fourth time, carving out a career-high total with a 12.2 average. In the process. some wonderful things have happened to both him and the rest of the Los Angeles Lakers.
Johnson is the odds-on favorite to win his first NBA Most Valuable Player award, which would make him only the third guard — and the first since Oscar Robertson in 1964 — to capture that honor. The Lakers, propelled by his leadership and production, shrugged off an embarrassing 4-1 playoff loss to Houston last spring to rebound dramatically. They picked up their sixth straight Pacific Division title, won 11 of their final 13 games to compile the fourth-best record in NBA history (65-17) and wrapped up the home-court advantage throughout the playoffs.
“And to think people were throwing dirt in our faces after Houston, counting us out of it before the season began,” guard Michael Cooper said indignantly.
But no one was counting on Los Angeles to present such a retooled look this season. These aren't the same Lakers who have jousted with the Boston Celtics since Kareem Abdul-Jabbar joined them 12 years ago. Their fast break has been turned up a notch, and their reliance on their majestic center has lessened. This is still a sensitive subject within the Lakers' organization because no one wants to diminish the luster that surrounds Abdul-Jabbar. But without question this Lakers team is Johnson’s — not Abdul Jabbar’s — and its playoff chances will become a test of his magic power.
The Lakers won’t win the NBA title without a major contribution from Abdul-Jabbar, who failed to lead the team in scoring for the first time in his tenure with the club. But they discovered against Houston that he no longer is enough. The groundwork has been established this year for Johnson, who became the team's leading scorer, to carry the load throughout the postseason. In the tough going, Johnson will be the first option on offense as often as Abdul-Jabbar, if not more so. And on those days when the veteran center just can't produce, Johnson will be expected to make up for the drop in scoring.
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It is a situation Johnson dreamed about, but really never expected to happen while Abdul-Jabbar was still playing. Indeed, this has been a season of dreams for Magic. His team is on top again, his hopes of winning the MVP before he retires seems within his grasp, his position as probably the best playmaking guard ever is more secure and the spotlight is clearly on his every move.
Yet, as it often does, life has played some cruel tricks to douse his happiness. His ecstasy on the court has been tempered by extraordinary sadness in his private life. And his massive physical achievements have been hampered by the pain he endures in his legs just getting out of bed on some mornings.
"Individually, this is the best season I've had," he said. "I've always wanted to accomplish everything there was in basketball, and as a team player I have. But as an individual player, I hadn't won the MVP. If I never did, the void would be there. The missing link would be there. The chain wouldn't be complete. I had to show people I was a complete player who could do everything. Now, if I don't win it this season, I’ll be disappointed."
But at the same time, he sadly said, "This has been the toughest season I've had in terms of things off the court — the toughest."
In late January, Johnson's sister, Mary, died on her 33rd birthday after a long struggle with lung problems. Johnson comes from a close-knit family of 12, and this was the first time death had touched him so closely. He was devastated by the loss of his sister and, although he kept playing at his family's request, he found himself losing concentration on the court. For a while, it wasn't fun being Magic anymore.
For all his public glibness and bravado, Johnson is an extremely private man who retreats to his mansion in Bel Air when he needs to be alone. Although his sister's illness had been long-term, only a few Lakers knew about it. When she died, Magic sought comfort from Cooper and Byron Scott, but even Abdul-Jabbar was unaware of her death until the team made an announcement.
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Much has been made of the contrast between the public and private Johnson, even to the extent of portraying him as having dual personalities, Magic representing the public side and Earvin the private. But his mood swings really aren’t any more dramatic than the next guy's, especially if that guy has the same outgoing, infectiously delightful personality that feeds on a zest for life. Even the most upbeat of humans must come down once in a while, and Johnson landed with a thud in January.
Single and wedded to basketball, he found himself alone and troubled, unable to talk out his problems.
“I'm a very private person, and I like to keep my private life to myself,” Johnson said. “I may be crazy and acting wild while I am in public, but when I go home, I will do what I want to do and do it quietly. Besides, while my sister was sick, there was nothing anyone could do for me anyway.
“After she passed away, it was difficult, it was rough on my parents. And I tried to help them out. But it was hard for them to be parents again (to the rest of their children). You need somebody some times just to talk to, but I was here and my family was in Michigan. You put it all on your shoulders, and sometimes you need an outlet. My outlet was playing in games. But there wasn't a talking outlet, and that hurt."
Johnson stared at the floor for a moment and shifted his weight. “It has to work itself out," he said, almost in a whisper. "And maybe it hasn’t happened as quickly as we all want. You still think back to the good times, and you talk to the nieces and nephews and it comes flooding back.
“The guys helped. They stood behind me and hugged me and encouraged me to fight my way through it. I just decided to dedicate this season to her and hope everything would work out."
In some ways. Johnson has it all: fame, talent, a splendid house, a contract worth millions, a priceless personality. Yet this is not the first time that reality has intruded into his seemingly carefree life.
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In 1981, he was blamed for the early season firing of Paul Westhead as the Lakers' coach and suddenly found himself being booed by fans who once cheered him wildly. In 1984, his mistakes at key points in the championship series against the Celtics were blamed for his team's crushing title loss. He was so devastated by the criticism that he virtually went into hiding for weeks. Even last June, prior to the NBA draft, he was involved in a swirl of controversy surrounding a potential trade involving James Worthy and Dallas’ Mark Aguirre. Johnson was portrayed as encouraging owner Jerry Buss to make the deal, which would have brought Aguirre, a close friend of Johnson's, to Los Angeles.
But Johnson could deal with those problems. How do you reconcile the death of a loved one? And how do you deal with another tell-tale sign of mortality, a festering injury?
Johnson has been bothered all season long by tendinitis in his left Achilles tendon. He suffered a knee injury in his second pro season, but be says that was minor compered to the discomfort of his current injury. His Achilles tendon throbs when be goes to bed, aches when he gets up and has him thinking seriously of keeping an early date with retirement.
Like Larry Bird, Johnson never has desired to set NBA longevity records. Bird says he will play only three more years. Johnson could walk out before his current $25 million contract expires in 1994. His Achilles tendon may not allow him to play any longer.
"I've had to sit out practices this year, and that is something I've never done before," Johnson said. “With the Achilles, every step you take, you always feel it, because it pulls. It makes it tougher to play back-to-back games. I haven't altered my style at all, but you have to be more disciplined off the court, the way you take care of yourself.
"You think and worry a little bit about your life after basketball. You think about how long you can go, what kind of life you will lead later. It makes you think to go ahead and get out in three or four years. I want to be able to go dancing, to play softball and touch football, those things that life is all about after basketball."
For now, however, a much wiser Johnson still is having a love affair with basketball. With Abdul-Jabbar on a slow descent and Michael Jordan still rising, Johnson finds himself this season on a perch with Bird as one of the game's two best players, a spot his increased scoring has reinforced. But now Johnson also is assuming Bird's role as the heart of a championship team.
"Earvin has just been awesome,” said Lakers Coach Pat Riley. "I knew he could do this, but he is making shots and drives that even surprise him. He's doing spin moves and dipping his shoulder and going through defenses, doing basketball shots no one can make. It's all a result of developing a shooter's mentality.
Riley turned to Johnson for help last summer while the thoughts of Ralph Sampson's on-the-floor, playoff-winning shot still was fresh in the minds of all the Lakers. Riley loves to play psychological games with his players. During the season, he will leave notes under the doors of their hotel rooms, nudging and prodding them to improve their performances. In the offseason, be writes them letters, planting seeds for the upcoming year. Last summer, he suggested to his players that they all needed to have the best years of their career this season. He added an extra thought for Johnson: Wasn’t it time for him to become a scorer?
Riley's thinking was twofold. First, Houston had exposed the Lakers as a far too predictable offensive team wedded to working the ball inside to Abdul-Jabbar and Worthy. Increased scoring from Johnson would help break them out of this mold and improve their struggling half-court offense. Second, he needed to relieve his team of what he viewed as complacency. With Abdul-Jabbar nearing retirement, Riley knew time also might be running out for the Lakers. He didn’t want to waste their championship opportunities.
Johnson already had grasped the importance of this season. He was embarrassed by the debacle against Houston, when the Rockets blanketed the Lakers' inside players and dominated the boards. After taking a short vacation, be embarked on an intensive conditioning program aimed at putting himself in the best shape of his life.
"I was worried about our future,” Johnson said. "You look at Houston and see a young team and that young front line, and we hadn't made any moves at that time to change things. You have to be conceited. I figured if I came in at the best shape of my career, it would set an example, that we weren’t accepting anything that we would come back. I knew we had to get off to a quick start. Otherwise it was going to be a long season."
Johnson saw Riley's letters as a welcome sign that the Laters would change their personality. But he didn't embrace his new role immediately. After years of setting up the Lakers' offense, not ending it with a basket, Johnson didn’t feel comfortable suddenly being a primary shooting option. Besides, he wasn't sure how the change would affect the delicate chemistry of the team, which was dominated by the elegant presence of Abdul-Jabbar.
Riley waited for Johnson to increase his scoring, but nothing much changed in training camp, the most unsettled and experimental in Riley's reign in Los Angeles. Finally, Riley and Johnson had another talk just before the start of the season. Start shooting more Riley told Johnson, and your teammates will accept it.
"Magic is probably the most intuitive player I've known about reading the environment of the team," Riley said. "He knows when to step forward and say something or when to step forward and lead. He knew what he had to do. The team knew it. ... He had to shoot every night, no matter what happened. Before, he would miss two or three shots, and he'd stop shooting. He'd get frustrated because he wouldn't get a good shot or they'd make him stop his dribble. He hadn’t developed his one-on-one skills and his post-up moves because he wasn’t conditioned to scoring.
"Now he is. He's got to take 20 shots a game for us. That means he probably is taking 30, because he is getting fouled on the other 10. He creates so many other things for the other players when he is offensive minded and takes off for the basket.”
Johnson's emergence as a scorer wasn’t solidified until a three-game stretch in late December, when Abdul-Jabbar was sidelined with eye problems. Johnson started the streak with 34 points against Dallas, added 38 against Houston and then had a career-high 46 against Sacramento.
"I said to myself. This is going to work,” he said, laughing hard. "It pushed me over, got me going. You just can’t come into a gym and turn it on. I used to be able to, but I had lost it and I wasn’t sure how my teammates would react when they weren't getting the ball in their hands as much. My job was to come into the arena and set everyone else up. It takes a certain mentality to score 34 and 35 points back to back, and it wasn't an easy transition to make."
Johnson became a third post-up player for the Lakers, getting the ball down low against smaller defenders. Worthy especially had to make room for the intruder, and it took him a while to make the adjustment. But once the Lakers could see how effective Johnson was becoming, they encouraged him to keep firing away.
"There always had been scorers on this team since I've been here,” said Worthy, "but now we needed him to score to get the pressure off the inside game. Everyone welcomed the change, because we knew we needed it. And you can't argue with the results."
No one had a better view of the change than Abdul-Jabbar, who has spent a career scoring over a host of defenders. Should Johnson have worried about his teammates’ reaction to his new role?
"I just do my job, do what I have to do,” said Abdul-Jabbar, whose scoring average dropped from 23.4 — his highest as a Laker — to 17.5, third on the team, in a year. "I don't look at it any other way.
"But we were too committed to one specific concept. We weren’t utilizing all the potential we had. Riley has gotten away from that by giving everyone an opportunity to contribute instead of relying on specific individuals. It's more of a team with Magic running the show.
Should Johnson win the MVP?
"I think so. He's making the crucial contribution to a very fine team," Abdul-Jabbar said.
Riley's answer to that same question: "If Earvin doesn't get it, it would be tantamount to Jim Bakker not being expelled from the PTL. I mean, there's no other choice."
Despite his impressive scoring increase, Johnson still remained the league's premier playmaker, a nifty achievement. With 997 assists, he nearly became only the third player in NBA history to have at least 1,000 assists in a season. But he also scored 40 or more points three times, after scoring more than 40 only twice in his first seven seasons. On 11 occasions, he reached double figures in points, rebounds and asses in the same game, including four straight in April. He took 390 more field-goal attempts (a career-high 1,308) than last season and 198 more foul shots (a career-high 631) and still came within range of his career shooting percentages from the floor and foul line.
“When he started to score, people thought it was something out of the unnatural, but I've been with Magic eight years now,” Cooper said, "and I can feel the aura around him. He does what he has to do to win. When he starts wiggling his shoulders to the side, he makes everyone go. When you see that, it's a sign to start falling in line."
Of course, the playoffs represent the true test for the reworked Lakers. Five new players have joined the team since last spring. and Riley has decided to overcome his team's height deficiencies by pushing the ball up the floor constantly, making easy baskets more likely. And what better player to run a transition game than Magic Johnson?
Forward A.C. Green, a second-year pro, is providing more scoring punch as Kurt Rambis’ replacement in the starting lineup, and Mychal Thompson, a midseason addition from San Antonio, gives the Lakers a much-needed veteran reserve in the middle. Riley's intricate performance numbers indicate that almost every player, including Scott and Cooper, have Improved over last year. And Abdul-Jabbar, at 40, is more rested — he played fewer minutes than he had in nine seasons — and was asked to do less than at any time in his career.
Still the Lakers' championship hopes fall squarely on their altered half-court offense, which includes more frequent three-point attempts, and on Johnson's role within that scheme. If this is indeed his team, he will have to show it again in the playoffs.
"Kareem is still our captain and leader,” Johnson said. "His role hasn't changed, but I have taken a lot of the pressure off him. He doesn't have to feel he needs to score 27 points a night for us to win. We still will go to him down the stretch, but he doesn't have to carry us the entire game.
"Is this my team? Yeah. I think everyone is happy with that, no problem, and I am happy about it. It happened on the court where it had to happen. Otherwise, it wouldn't have worked. Everyone has accepted it. They know it, and we have gone from there.”
When the game is on the line, Johnson says he is "looking for myself first and then the rest of them. Before, I'd go inside even if I wanted it myself. This year, I want it."
Ironically, Johnson had to prove his value to the league by becoming more selfish. It bugged him that a player couldn’t win the MVP award unless his scoring average approached 25 points per game.
"It wasn’t fair," he said, "Stats is where it's at. The MVPs were the guys who averaged all the points, not the guys who make the team go. I couldn't believe that guards like Jerry (West) and Oscar (Robertson) didn’t win a lot of MVPs.
"But it's changing. I think guys like myself and Michael Jordan are going to change it for the guards winning it. The ’80s are going to be different."
Johnson's offensive game isn't vastly different. Whether he is scoring more or not, he still is one of the league's most unorthodox shooters. He tosses up those flat-footed set shots and weird-looking jumpers or zips down the lane, all arms and legs and hang time, and leaves everyone wondering how the ball goes in. But it does
"The one thing we have established is that when we have to win the thing, we no longer necessarily are giving the ball to Kareem,” Riley said. "Forget it. Now Magic is going to drive on you, shoot it over the top of you, run a two-man game with Kareem or James, with the thought if he doesn't get it for himself, he still will get it to the big guy. He no longer is dribbling to dribble. He is dribbling and thinking about scoring.”
And what's the result?
"Now I'm arrogant, just like all those other scorers," Johnson said. “Arrrrr-o-gant.”
The sound of that made him laugh long and loudly. Just think, Earvin Johnson, arrogant scorer. Who shouldn't believe in magic?