Magic: 'That Court Is Where I Belong'

By MIKE DOWNEY

Sept. 30, 1992 12 AM PT

Annnndddd . . . at guard!

(Crowd on its feet.)

Number 32 . . . !

(The noise grows.)

Now in his 14th year and 13th season . . . !

(Crowd stomps its feet.)

Earvin . . .

Magic . . . Johnson!

Nov. 6, 1992, the Sports Arena, Los Angeles. Be there.

He will.

Lakers vs. Clippers. NBA opening day in L.A.

One full year from the day Earvin Johnson said he would never play professional basketball again.

It’s the greatest comeback since E.T. phoned home.

We should have known.

Magic vs. tragic?

Magic wins.

Tragedy tomorrow, Magic tonight.

Nov. 7, 1991, was a day people can tell you where they were--like when Kennedy was shot.

Not as urgent. Not as earthshaking. Yet every bit as unforgettable.

He was quitting. He was ill. He had no choice.

Leave it to Earvin Johnson to try to beat the unbeatable.

If you can’t keep a good man down, how can you expect to keep a great one down? Basketball is in this man’s blood, same way that damned virus is. Tell him he can’t play, you might as well cut off his oxygen. He has to play, same way Gene Kelly once sang: “Gotta dance.” If he is going to die, he’s going to die with his basketball shoes on.

Morbid? It isn’t morbid.

“We can get killed anytime,” Magic said Tuesday. “Life itself is a risk.”

So his number’s retired. So what? Un-retire it. Magic Johnson just un-retired.

“It’s my number,” he said. “I’m not dead.”

The man is indefatigable. HIV positive? Say hello to E.(M.)J. positive. No man is more positive about life and living than this man. How can sickness beat someone who will not be beaten? Someone who never gives up?

Unrealistic? Sure it is. But Magic Johnson has always had unrealistic goals. He was told he was too tall to be a guard. He played guard. He was told to go to UCLA or North Carolina or Michigan, and not to Michigan State if he wanted to win a national championship. He went to Michigan State. He won a national championship. He was told he was too sick to play. On he plays.

“God has put me here to play basketball,” he said.

It isn’t a mission. It isn’t an obsession. It’s a calling. Preachers have to preach. Teachers have to teach. Magic Johnson has to play. He is an athlete and an entertainer. Yes, he also is a corporation, a crusader, a husband, a father. He will make time for that. Magic Johnson invented the 25-hour day. He is perpetual motion. There is simply no stopping him.

“That court is where I belong.”

He consulted Cookie, his wife. Said they prayed together for guidance. She stood at his side Tuesday and took a smooch from a tall man in a teal suit, who said: “Since we made the decision to retire together, we should do this together, too.” Right. The family that prays together, plays together.

He called his parents. They gave him their blessings. He called Jerry Buss, his boss. They talked contract.

Larry Bird called him. Bird said: “Hey, go for it.”

Bird and other friends hadn’t waited during the Olympics for Johnson to tell them what he would do. They told him. Michael Jordan, Charles Barkley--they all said the same: “Go for it.”

Jerry West, general manager of the Lakers, said no more than one week ago that he doubted Magic would come back. But he also said Magic had not told him anything. He hadn’t said a word about coming back.

Well, Magic said the word.

“Back!” he said.

Just like that. One word. At one point Tuesday, that was exactly the way he put it. No verbs, no nouns, no pronouns. Only one adorable adverb: “Back!”

The Lakers have him back. For how long? For one year. Two at most. (Magic says one. Magic also has been known to change his mind.) Rather than rush their rookie guards, Anthony Peeler and Duane Cooper, into action, Randy Pfund, their rookie coach, can bring them along gently.

A day ago, the Lakers had a playoff shot. Today, the Lakers have a title shot. Their uniforms look a little more golden today than yesterday.

A year ago, Earvin Johnson looked weak and sounded sad (smile aside). Today, Earvin Johnson looks stronger than ever and sounds like his old self (smile even wider).

“Hey, the positives outweigh all the negatives,” he said.

Is he still ill? Yes, he is.

Is he still determined to beat it? Yes, he is.

Magic knows what made him sick. He got a year off. He used that year to warn others what could make them sick. He used it to educate others on what someone with a sickness could or could not do. He does not believe basketball will make him more sick than before. He believes basketball will make him better.

Don’t call this his farewell season. Call it his get-well season.

“I don’t want a goodby tour,” he said. “I’ll just go off into the sunset.”

Oh, no, he won’t. He will reach up, grab that sun, dribble it and pass it to a teammate for a basket.