Two Faces of Magic Johnson : He Once Made Plays, Not Excuses

That wasn’t my Magic.

The Magic Johnson I knew didn’t bump referees, blow up at his coach (OK, once, a long time ago) or talk big without being able to back it up. There was no question of putting himself ahead of the team, either, since he and the team were indistinguishable.

The Magic of 1996 seems desperate to be the old Magic and when he’s frustrated, lashes out--at a referee who didn’t give him a call, a coach asking him to make an adjustment.

It’s as if he can’t understand. If Michael Jordan gets to come back as the old Mike, why can’t he?

Of course, Jordan was gone for only 18 months. Johnson was gone for five years, a generation in basketball, and he was 31 when he left.

When Jordan returned last spring, Johnson, who had already aborted one comeback, promising never to say the words again, was almost sucked out of his shoes. After months of soul searching, hint dropping and mind changing, during which he even rapped his putative teammates (“I could never come back with a team like this”), he took the plunge.

At first he accepted the new order, coming off the bench, playing forward. Thrilled when they took off, he said he’d play next season, adding he didn’t need much money. After all, he’s a multimillionaire and the less he took, the more the Lakers could offer a free agent.

For all his bravado, Johnson worried about embarrassing himself. He’s still a fine point guard and a commanding presence who makes players better just by walking on the floor. What he can’t do anymore is take over games at will. At 36, he doesn’t get to the basket as well and depends on his post-up repertoire. Some days he has it, some days he doesn’t.

In less than four months, while the Lakers went 32-11, everything changed, their fortunes, their chemistry and their Magic.

Three fits of pique--one by Johnson--disfigured their regular season. In the playoffs, following his lead, they turned into a jumbled, finger-pointing mess.

When Johnson bumped his referee, Laker officials were flabbergasted. When he publicly second-guessed Coach Del Harris after the Game 1 loss to the Rockets, even close friends winced.

As the days passed last week, Magic announced he wanted the ball in his hands, 50% of his minutes at point guard, a Jordan-Shaq contract. If he couldn’t get it here, he knew where he could (hello, Riles?).

As the Rockets took over the series, he asserted that either of them would have won the West. Actually, the Lakers’ title hopes were more a projection of his dreams than reality. They were woefully soft in the middle. And 36 or not, he was still as good a go-to guy as they had.

The old Magic didn’t contrive silver linings; he went home, locked himself in and wouldn’t even take phone calls from his mother.

Johnson has always been the billion-pound point guard, granted his run of the franchise by doting owner Jerry Buss, even if Executive Vice President Jerry West fretted about building a team around one player’s whims. It remains to be seen if anyone wants Magic back in a Laker uniform, including Magic.

After the last two weeks, one can easily imagine him leaving but one can imagine a scenario in which he’d still fit:

If the Lakers can’t sign Shaquille O’Neal or Juwan Howard--neither of whom is likely to go anywhere--it might be better to sign Johnson, rather than Dikembe Mutombo, who would run them out of cap room until 2002 without making them champions. Why not sign Magic for two years and get ready for the Kevin Garnett-Antonio McDyess-Joe Smith free agent class of ‘98?

If it’s really cool with West and Harris and isn’t just another Buss indulgence.

If Magic can come to grips with a team that doesn’t revolve around him. And if he can come to grips with who he is, as opposed to who he was.

After weeks of embarrassment inflicted by its players, capped by a playoff collapse, the Lakers tried to pass it off as media exaggeration, etc. However, Nick Van Exel and Sedale Threatt blew off the breakup meeting, and there went the public relations offensive.

On the bright side, Magic got to be the point guard at the meeting.

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Clippers make big trade for player who is upcoming free agent. Clippers won’t match market price, citing player’s greed, their poverty or both. Player leaves.

Clippers have nothing.

That’s how it went with Dominique Wilkins and that’s where it’s heading with Brian Williams. Team officials suggest they’ll go only so high (try $5 million-$6 million annually) to keep Williams. But if the market goes crazy, they can’t afford him.

Of course, it’s just the opposite--they can’t afford to let him go.

A year ago, they traded the rights to Antonio McDyess, a tremendous young prospect, for three players: Williams, who was the best; Brent Barry, who remains the most promising, and Rodney Rogers, the biggest disappointment. (The Clips say they loved the way Rodney finished the season; the numbers were 14 points and five rebounds the last month. Big deal.)

With Williams, it was a viable deal, though time will tell how viable. If he leaves, Barry had better turn into Pete Maravich and soon.

It’s simple: If you trade for a free agent, you’re committed to him. If you can’t make the commitment, or fear you can’t sign him if you do, don’t make the trade. If you can’t keep good players, you’re in the wrong business.

If you lose good players over and over, you’re Donald T. Sterling.

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Stop him before he head-butts again: There is growing speculation the Bulls won’t take Dennis Rodman back, no matter what happens. Coach Phil Jackson dropped him from the starting lineup and played him only 59 minutes against the Heat, saying he “wasn’t comfortable” with Dennis’ mental state. Owner Jerry Reinsdorf on Rodman: “You know how it is. You just hope and pray he doesn’t go off.”

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Meanwhile, Rodman announced he’d do no more interviews except with radio or TV outlets who pay him until the release of his book. On his weekly TV show on the local NBC outlet before a raucous crowd at Michael Jordan’s Restaurant, Rodman said he told a referee during a game, “Please, Mike Mathis, don’t make me go home with your wife tonight.” When a birthday cake was brought out for Jay Leno, who was there promoting his own show, Rodman stuck his face in it.

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The book, “Bad As I Wanna Be,” is either a total hype or a plea for help, with the usual howl about persecution, stuff about Madonna (“It could happen where we get back together”), an acknowledgment he considered suicide in 1993 and his claim he’ll do it some day when he’s partied out and “my life is complete.”

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Non-denial denial: David Robinson, apparently taking the sainthood Sports Illustrated conferred upon him seriously, questioned Jordan’s dedication to his family. “David’s got to worry about his own family,” Jordan said. “He can’t worry about mine too. I’ve won and I like to win and I’m still capable of winning. If he’d ever experienced a championship, he’d know what it means to experience it again.”

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Trouble is Luc Longley sneering at the man you’re about to pay $15 million a year: The Bulls gift-wrapped Miami’s Alonzo Mourning, holding him to 24 points--with 13 turnovers--in Games 1 and 2. Said Jordan: “He doesn’t have the experience to throw out of the double team.” Said Longley: “He’s very predictable. I don’t care for his game.”

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Edging toward the door: After the Spurs took a 2-0 lead over the Phoenix Suns, Charles Barkley declared, “I want to be in the right environment. If a [trade] situation comes up, I’ll go where I want to. We have an old team. We need to see how far we can progress, then we need to take a hard look at ourselves.”

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Dikembe Mutombo, who vowed to stay in Denver, is getting antsy after a disappointing season and run-ins with Coach/General Manager Bernie Bickerstaff. “Most of the time when the ship goes down, they always look at the captain,” Mutombo said. “I don’t remember watching on TV or reading any books where you have heard about the accident on the ship at sea where they say it was the mechanics’ work or the crew or the passengers.”

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Orlando’s Jon Koncak, told that Piston Coach Doug Collins complained about a referee’s call on his three-point play: “Give me a break. Let me score my one basket a game.”