*
*

*Magic and American
Myth*<http://myespn.go.com/blogs/truehoop/0-43-45/Magic-and-American-Myth.html>

August 14, 2009 12:18 PM

*Posted by Kevin Arnovitz*

On its surface, David Halberstam's "The Breaks of the
Game<http://www.hyperionbooks.com/titlepage.asp?ISBN=1401309720&SUBJECT=Sports>
"* *tells the story of how the Portland Trail Blazers, just two years
removed from an NBA championship and with all the makings of a dynasty, fell
back to earth. But since its initial publication almost 30 years ago,
Halberstam's book endures as much more: It's a fascinating portrait of the
NBA at the most pivotal moment in the league's history.

[image: Magic Johnson]*Earvin "Magic" Johnson: The NBA's game-changer* (Focus
On Sport via Getty Images)**

At the start of the 1979-80 season, the NBA was an afterthought for most
sports fans in North America. The networks treated the game like a
stepchild. Sponsors were disinterested. There was talk that hockey and --
yes -- pro soccer could eclipse the NBA.

According to Halberstam -- but you don't need a journalist or cultural
history of the league to tell you this -- much of that dynamic had to do
with race. In the late 1970s, the game was perceived as unrelatable to the
kinds of fans (read: white) that franchises and advertisers wanted to
reach.

Halberstam's discussion of race in "The Breaks of the Game" can be a
startling read in 2009, not because anything he wrote was untruthful,
insensitive, or even outrageous, but because the conversation about race and
the NBA today resides in a much different place.

When LeBron James came into the league with unprecedented fanfare in 2003,
few considered his certain stardom in any context other than: Here is a kid
who has the talent to surpass the game's most totemic stars. Sponsors
couldn't wait to throw their dollars at James, and the league primed itself
for one of the great marketing pushes in sports history.

As Halberstam chronicled in "The Breaks of the Game," it wasn't always that
way.

When did things begin to change?

About the time Earvin Johnson first took the floor for the Los Angeles
Lakers, as Halberstam wrote in 1981:

Now, after the Laker practice, the press waited for Magic. Everybody wanted
a piece of him. It had been a long time since a black athlete had come into
the league who was so enthusiastic and thus so reassuring. Perhaps not since
Willie Mays in another sport and another era had there been a black athlete
so ingenuous and so boyish. But no one had ever had to sell the innocence of
baseball -- baseball was innocent as the memory of every village green, even
to those who had never set foot on one. But basketball was different. Its
media franchisers, the people in the commissioner's office, the people who
ran CBS Sports, the people who sold the commercials for television, were
finding it worrisome. Not only was it less linked to American myth, not only
were its players blacker -- and more obviously so, given the skimpiness of
their uniforms compared to baseball and football -- but they had also
become, over the years, more politicized, prouder, and more outspoken. Some,
like Kareem, had been unwilling to play for the U.S. Olympic team. Madison
Avenue already had its doubts about professional as opposed to college
basketball. Athletes were increasingly viewed by Madison Avenue as
articulate but surly and ungrateful or, just as bad, grateful but
inarticulate.

Thus did the network and league fasten on Magic...

... The crowd gathered early under the Laker basket to watch Magic. He
brought with him not just his own joy but a public display of his
excitement. At his best, he was one of the most innovative new players in
the game; he appeared to invent a new pass and a new move every time he had
the ball. He had the height of a forward, 6'8", but he played guard, where
men in the past had only been 6'4", or, at best, 6'5". He had the potential
for changing the way the game was played. In basketball there is something
called the transition game: a team is on offense, it puts up a shot, the
shot misses, the defensive team takes the rebound and starts downcourt. The
second or two in which the teams change over, offense to defense, defense to
offense, is called the transition period: traditionally, it was the bigger
men who had to rebound, and then, because they were not very good
ballhandlers, they passed the ball off to smaller guards who were
ballhandlers. But because Magic was so tall he was able to at once rebound
and then lead the attack up the court without passing off himself. That made
it harder for the defensive team to set up and it dramatically altered the
flow of the game. Still, the other players were not sure he was a *player *yet.
That was their word, a player. All the hype and hoopla worked against him.
Hype and hoopla were white, written by whites and sold by whites, and they
did not often connect to the core of basketball.

Was Johnson's most profound impact on the NBA what Halberstam called his
"potential for changing the way the game was played," or was it that he was
"reassuring" to white fans? The truth, as it usually does, lies somewhere in
between.
-- 
spanx' blog:
http://spankyenriquez.blogspot.com/

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