Writers’ Memories of Bird

Times staff writers remember Larry Bird, basketball player, on parquet and elsewhere:

There had already been talk of the decline of Larry Bird in the spring of 1987, about the time he and the Celtics were embroiled in one of the meanest, toughest Eastern Conference playoff finals ever. That was against the pugilistic team that America had already loved to hate, the Detroit Pistons.

And so there was all this extra emotion--anger, excitement, electricity--while a group of people watched on TV in some airport, the location of which I no longer remember. But everything else remains crystal clear.

It was the final seconds of the fifth game in Boston on Tuesday night, May 26. Detroit had just taken a one-point lead, and Bird’s attempt to get his team back on top had been blocked back in his face by the Pistons’ Dennis Rodman. There were only five seconds left, and the ball had gone out of bounds off the Celtics, giving the Pistons the ball to throw inbounds.

With Rodman’s block, a heavy-set man at the bar stood, his arms extended, fists shaking toward the ceiling, screaming in joy to anyone who cared to listen that the series was over, the Pistons would go home and win it in Game 6. Also, he hated the Celtics and Larry Bird. And then, motioning around the room, he said the magic words that soon made most of us in the bar instant fair-weather Piston fans: “Drinks are on me.”

Turning toward the TV set, a big smile on his face, the heavy-set man watched as Isiah Thomas passed the ball inbounds, as it floated toward Bill Laimbeer, and as Bird, out of nowhere, intercepted, tiptoed along the sideline to stay in bounds and, falling over the sideline, just got off a pass to a streaking Dennis Johnson for the winning layup.

Suddenly, the series belonged not to the Pistons, but to the Celtics, who would go on and win at home in Game 7. And just as suddenly, the bar became silent, shocked by the stunning turn of events orchestrated by the maestro of the NBA, Larry Bird.

The heavy-set man at the bar let the moment settle, then picked up his belongings and walked out of the bar. He never uttered another word.

Ever since then, I’ve wanted to tell Larry Bird that he owes me a beer.