Writers’ Memories of Bird

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

It was just a jumper. Wide open. A no-brainer. He probably made a million of them. He probably could have made it blindfolded. But I won’t soon forget it. Neither will he.

Badalona. In suburban Barcelona. Summer of ’92. Olympic basketball. Larry Bird and Magic Johnson, teammates at last. Magic in heavy traffic. Steers and veers. Shakes and fakes. Looks left, looks right. . . .

Then throws the ball behind him. A no-peek pass to Bird, trailing five steps behind.

Just a jumper. Swish. Magic gets an assist on a three-point hoop. And Bird gets, well, one of his last baskets anywhere. Magic grinned big. Larry grinned bigger. I don’t even remember the opponent. I only remember the looks on their faces.