Magic Johnson's Miracle

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November 7, 2006

At about 10:30 this morning, my phone rang and the caller ID said "William Morris Agency." I knew right away it was Lon Rosen, my friend and one-time agent. I answered it with our usual greeting – unprintable in these pages – and the first words out of his mouth hit me like a ton of bricks.

"Remember where you were 15 years ago today?"

Do I ever.

On November 7, 1991, one of Los Angeles' greatest radio sportscasters, Jim Healy, was about to receive his star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. We worked at the same station, so I was on hand along with other co-workers and many media colleagues. It was a fun ceremony, with the legendary Gene Autry – who owned the radio station – and comedian Pat Buttram on the microphone. And finally, the honorary mayor of Hollywood, longtime Autry crony Johnny Grant, doing the official honors and Healy giving a speech. The reception was to take place at the legendary Roosevelt Hotel – site of the very first Academy Awards in 1929. But I never made it to the party.

As I walked from the ceremony site to my car, a fellow reporter named Steve Futterman asked me if he could ride with me to the reception. Of course, I said, and as soon as we got inside my car, his pager went off. He asked to use my cell phone, returned the call, and within moments blurted out, "What? Magic Johnson's retiring because he has AIDS? Are you sure?" They were, and history was changed. Not just sports history. History, period.

Magic Johnson and Michael Jordan waged epic battles in the 1980s.

I dropped Futterman off at his car, and my trip from Hollywood to Inglewood's Forum that day remains somewhat of a blur. My phone was ringing, as my radio station was calling me to instruct me on the coverage of Magic's news conference that afternoon. But my mind was elsewhere. It was with Magic, with whom I had become friends during his time as a Laker. And his family. And the Lakers, The team of my childhood. AIDS. He was a dead man walking. And my mind also darted back to a moment a few nights earlier, which tipped me off to the whole deal.

In addition to my radio station duties, I was the Southern California correspondent for the Mutual Radio Network. The sports director, Larry Michel, had called me and asked me to check out a story that Magic was very sick and might have AIDS. Johnson had been sitting out exhibition games with what was described as a severe case of the flu, and that was backed up by his agent and friend, the aforementioned Lon Rosen, when I called him about it. That night, though, I began to have questions.

At halftime of the Lakers' exhibition game, Magic walked over to the media table where I was sitting along with the team's cable TV host, Randy Hall. He said hello, made some small talk, and was about to walk back to the Lakers' bench for the start of the third quarter when Hall asked him if he'd be available for a post-game interview to update the fans about his flu and when he'd be able to play again. Normally an incredible athlete when it came to media access, Magic turned down the interview request, and with a sad look, turned and walked away. Remembering that phone call earlier that day, I turned to Hall and told her about it. We talked about it for a little while, and then both dismissed it as Magic having a bad night. After all, this was Magic Johnson. He couldn't have AIDS.

The first reporter I ran into at the Forum on the afternoon of the news conference was Randy Hall. She walked up to me and said that it looked like I was right. I told her I hoped I wasn't.

I was.

At around 3PM Pacific Time, Earvin "Magic" Johnson, stepped to the podium and told the world that he would be retiring from the NBA "due to the HIV virus that I have attained." Attained. An odd choice of words. Like it was something he'd strived to get. Like a status thing. Certainly, he didn't want his career cut short and his life put in jeopardy, but as the afternoon went on, and in the following years, attained wasn't such a strange choice of words. Magic Johnson became the face of HIV and AIDS discussion, and he attacked it like he did the Boston Celtics' defense. He didn't back off. He didn't hide. And we became a better people because of it.

During the news conference, the world – pretty much for the first time – learned the difference between HIV and AIDS. HIV was the virus that led to AIDS, but it in itself didn't kill you. And that gave people some hope. Not only for Magic, but for anyone stricken with this horrific virus. And during the years, he became the go-to-guy whenever there was an issue about the virus.

He ended the news conference that day promising to beat it "and be around to bug you guys (reporters) for a long time." And he has.

Fifteen years later, he is very healthy, and one of the civic leaders in Los Angeles. He's also a TV commentator for the NBA on TNT, and is a successful businessman whose empire is running close to a worth of $750 million. He'll be attending the Lakers game tonight against the Minnesota Timberwolves at Staples Center and, I'm sure, celebrating life with his wife Cookie and children Earvin and Elisa.

"I can't believe it's been 15 years,' said Rosen, as we wrapped up our conversation. "My son, Brian, is 15. He was born a couple months before all of that happened. Amazing." "Yep.' I replied, "we're getting old."

And thankfully, so is Magic.