Magic Johnson and Larry Bird have grown close. However, early in their careers, the ardent rivals vied not only for the league title but for the championship of each other.
Winning Time: The Rise of the Lakers Dynasty (Season 2) has concluded on HBO, already past the Los Angeles Lakers’ pivotal 1980-81 season, which chronicles the injury and comeback of a still-maturing Magic Johnson (Quincy Isaiah). Also depicted is the internal tumult and dissension that developed due to a lack of chemistry and changes in the game plan upon Johnson’s return. In addition, there was no shortage of resentment to go around, as factions had developed on the defending champion squad, namely Magic v. Norm Nixon.
Below is an excerpt from a piece I wrote last year on Nixon (“Savoir Faire: Norm Nixon’s Lakers” The Hub.news, April 2022) regarding the lead-up to their searing loss to the underdog Houston Rockets in the first round of the 1981 playoffs.
During the 1980-81 season, the Magic Johnson star rapidly ascended, and a peaking Norm Nixon was shrouded further in his shadow. Fifty-foot billboards of Johnson were peppered over the city and his megawatt smile (courtesy of a 7-Up endorsement) was becoming a national phenomenon. The team was winning. Then suddenly, Magic sustained a left knee injury, which sidelined him for most of the season (45 games). Immediately, the experts predicted doom for the defending champions.
Not so fast.
The Lakers, with Norm Nixon once again running the show at point guard, continued to excel, ending the regular season with 54 wins. Magic returned just before the playoffs, moving Norm back to a “secondary role.” The team was divided, fractured by those pro-Nixon players, many of whom were jealous of the second-year Johnson’s media circus before (and after) his return. Johnson had some support as well but fanned the flames by complaining to the media about his teammates being jealous of his skyrocketing publicity (“Not everybody can get the ‘pub'[-licity]”). Nixon often provided access to the roster’s squabbles by talking to the media as an “unnamed source.” On the other hand, he made it clear that playing off-guard was “not my preference” to anyone who dared listen. According to many Los Angeles sportswriters, off-the-record quips, gossip and critiques from Nixon were “simply tremendous.”
That year ended with an embarrassing upset loss to the 40–42 Houston Rockets in the first round of the playoffs. In the locker room, moments [before] the deciding game, a shouting match had ensued between factions on the team over leaked remarks to the local media regarding in-house discord and disharmony. With that backdrop and roster chemistry in the toilet, Magic shot 2-for-14 (14%) from the field and 6-for-11 (54%) from the line for a mere 10 points (including an airball with a chance to win). Changes were inevitable.
DARKNESS BEFORE DAWN
Lakers owner Jerry Buss (played by John C. Reilly) added more fuel to the fire before the 1981-82 season by offering Magic a $25 million contract spread over 25 years. Team captain Kareem Abdul-Jabbar (Dr. Solomon Hughes) angrily called a press conference after hearing about it. Before being reassured by Buss, Kareem seriously contemplated insisting on a trade. In addition, players on the Lakers were again chattering and one of them curtly queried Johnson, “Are you a player, or are you management?” Morale was approaching its nadir, and Magic was soon branded as “Buss’ Favorite Son.”
Magic remembers the fissure it caused in the locker room. “It was great because [on one hand], you know, I grew up poor my whole life. So, to get a million dollars a year was outstanding, but it changed the dynamic of the team,” Johnson said. “They thought that now, I was part of management instead of being just a Laker player.” [1]
This was merely the tip-of-the-iceberg.
Jim Chones (Newton Mayenge), a 6-foot 11-inch tall power forward, was a starter on the 1980 championship team and often did the unsung dirty work. While an All-American at Marquette University, he participated in one of the wildest brawls in NCAA basketball history, winning the mêlée (only a state trooper/armed security’s intervention prevented Chones and company from spanking more a**) and the game against the all-white University of South Carolina Gamecocks on the road in Jim Crow Columbia. The former ABA star and Cleveland Cavaliers mainstay was anything other than Showtime flamboyant, but he was a locker room favorite, savvy, and rugged under the glass. Further, his physicality, on the order of Lakers power forwards of yesteryear (Happy Hairston, Bill Bridges, Kermit Washington), kept the marquee centers—in this case, Abdul-Jabbar—safeguarded and in good working order.
By late 1980, coach Westhead (Jason Segel), obsessed with tinkering with troupe symbiosis and implementing his plan, had benched Chones, which did not go well with the veteran and many teammates. When it transpired, Norm Nixon (DeVaughn Nixon) commented, “We just lost our best inside player.”
According to a 1980 UPI story, “A fuming mad Jim Chones came as close as any Los Angeles player ever to openly criticizing Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, the recognized leader of the Lakers. Abdul-Jabbar had been in a mild slump in the last three games, and Chones saw the benching as unfair. ‘Why me?’ asked Chones, who is enjoying the finest year of his eight-year NBA career. ‘I’ve been playing my butt off, and I’ve outplayed almost everyone I’ve gone up against. If the man (Westhead) was trying to hurt me, he succeeded. I’m upset. When I found out I wasn’t starting, I almost cried. Man, what more can I do?’ He continued, ‘I guess it’s easier to sit me down than some others,’ Chones said, ‘but I don’t like it one bit. I don’t want to cause any dissension, but that’s the way I feel. I’m being made the scapegoat for no reason.’” [2]
By the start of the next season, Jim Chones was a member of the Washington Bullets. No less an authority than Lakers GM Bill Sharman (Brett Cullen), a Basketball Hall of Famer both as a player and coach, opined on the loss, stating that Chones’ presence at power forward was “the reason we won the 1980 title.”
Magic Johnson still had some ripening to achieve. Paul Westhead had revamped the offense to decelerate and wait for Kareem to get set. Johnson, on a team of young, talented greyhounds, yearned for the unit to run. Most of the players concurred–albeit quietly–with the third-year star. Michael Cooper (Delante Desouza), often the peacemaker on the roster, stated, “You know what this f****** idiot [coach] did to us before a game? He tried quoting Shakespeare to us! Doesn’t he understand that the Brothers don’t give a s*** about Shakespeare?!?” [3]
Westhead had essentially lost the locker room. Magic was disillusioned and brooding as the squad, even in victory, plodded along. The two didn’t mesh and rarely spoke. After a flare-up during (and post) a too-close-for-comfort win against the hapless Utah Jazz, Magic announced to the press, teammates, friends and Jerry Buss that he desired a trade! In the aftermath, Westhead was fired. The story hit the media like a cyclone. Johnson was vignetted unfavorably by local sportswriters and unnamed sources on the Lakers. While he was undoubtedly no cherub, few paused momentarily to remember that Johnson was merely twenty-one years young amid this dilemma. At the next home
game, a capacity crowd of 17,505 in the Forum heralded Magic, now depicting him as a petulant child, with a resounding chorus of boos. Their collective malevolence and reprisal lasted for weeks and the jeering was heightened on the road.
BIRD’S FIRST CIGAR
Not long after Larry Bird’s first pro championship win, many “global majority” youngsters wore his number 33 jersey at playgrounds, even in L.A. Also, Bird (Sean Patrick Small) slowly garnered popularity nationwide in barbershops owned and frequented by diaspora members.
“Magic recalls encountering one of the elders at a barbershop on Crenshaw Boulevard in Los Angeles.
‘I got to give it to you; that white boy can play,’ his barber said.
‘I told you that the last time I was here,’ Magic said.
‘You did,’ the barber replied. ‘But I wasn’t buying none of that until he put on a show in the [NBA] Finals against the Rockets. The boy made Moses Malone look silly!’” [4]
In Red Auerbach-like fashion, Bird puffed on a victory cigar in the bedlam of the Celtics locker room celebration after winning the 1981 NBA Championship against Houston. At home, Johnson—last season’s playoff hero—watched it on television, seething angrily.
As shown below in this Winning Time* clip, it would be a long summer.
Tough crowd. #WinningTime pic.twitter.com/cTU9BSJVnN
— Max (@StreamOnMax) August 21, 2023
