The Magic Poem Christmas Post

A Poem for "Magic";
for Earvin "Magic" Johnson, Donell Reid, and Richard Franklin

By Quincy Troupe

take it to the hoop, "magic" johnson
take the ball dazzling down the open lane
herk & jerk & raise your six foot nine inch
frame into air sweating screams of your neon name
"magic" johnson, nicknamed "windex" way back in high school
'cause you wiped glass blackboards so clean
where you first juked & shook
& wiled your way to glory
a new styled fusion of shake & bake energy
using everything possible you created your own space
to fly through -- any moment now we expect your wings
to spread feathers for that spooky take-off of yours
then shake & glide till you hammer home
a clotheslining deuce off glass
now, come back down with a reverse hoodoo gem
of the spin, & stick it in sweet popping nets
clean from twenty feet right side

put the ball on the floor, "magic"
slide the dribble behind our back, ease it deftly
between your bony stork legs, head bobbing everwhichaway
up & down, you see everything on the court, off the high
yoyo patter, stop & go dribble, you shoot
a threading needle rope pass sweet home to kareem
cutting through the lane, his skyhook pops the cords
now lead the fastbreak, hit jamaal on the fly
now blindside a behind the back pinpointpass for two more
off the fake, looking the other way
you raise off balance into tense space
sweating chants of your name, turn 360 degrees
on the move your legs scissoring space like a swimmer's
yoyoing motion in deep water, stretching out now
towards free flight, you double pump through human trees
hang in place, slip the ball into your left hand
then deal it like a Las Vegas card dealer off squared glass
into nets living up your singular nickname, so "bad"
you cartwheel the crowd towards frenzy
wearing now your electric smile, neon as your name

in victory we suddenly sense your glorious uplift
your urgent need to be champion
& so we cheer, rejoicing with you for this quicksilver, quicksilver, quicksilver
moment of fame, so put the ball on the floor again, "magic"
juke & dazzle, shaking & baking down the lane
take the sucker to the hoop, "magic" johnson
recreate reverse hoodoo gems off the spin
deal alley-oop-dunk-a-thon-magician passes, now
double-pump, scissor, vamp through space, hang in place
& put it all in the sucker's face, "magic" johnson
& deal the roundball like the juju man that you am
like the shonuff shaman man that you am
"magic," like the shonuff spaceman you am

The Face of Evil

See that grainy, America's Most Wanted style picture? Good, now memorize it. If you ever see this man punch him in the gut. Spit in his face. He is all that is wrong with sports journalism. A shameless provacateur, a mock-outrage anger junkie. A man who writes highly opinionated, less than brilliant takedowns of the disgusting news media's fawning over LeBron and intersperses them with fawning bullshit coverage. This man is the enemy and I hate him with everything I'm worth. Either that or it's the most boring part of the year for followers of the NBA, post free agency excitement, post draft, pre warm up camps, and pre International Basketball contest that will determine which country has the best role players (all the stars are too busy to play at the FIBA 2010 World Championship, including the stars from other countries). In the absence of actual coverage, I propose we turn on each other. Why not? We've already turned on LeBron.

But some of us, Wojnarowski included, turned on LeBron way back when the season was still happening, well before the Decision, a remarkably stupid and respect burning event (in all eyes, but Miami's) in which LeBron announced his decision to leave Cleveland for tax free South Florida. While the decision was stupid and dropped the real LBJ's credibility (but not to a point he can't recover from), it does make sense if we follow the twisted path of one story line. This path was pursued by many fans, including self-proclaimed, "Hey I'm a fucking FAN, OK?" Bill Simmons. The story is that LeBron James doesn't care about winning (and he's probably un-American). Followers of this storyline insist that Jordan, Bird, and Magic all cared so much about winning, which is what makes them great, and that all LeBron cares about is dunks, which makes him less than great. It would seem beyond obvious that the aforementioned dudes played on teams that featured ridiculous talent and that LeBron didn't. Nonetheless, as these pricks have taken to the airwaves to proclaim that they would never, ever, do what LeBron did, I guess it needs to be pointed out. So here goes: Michael Jordan played with Scottie Pippin. Remember him? He took the Bulls to 50 plus wins and a barn-burning second round of the playoffs on his own. Jordan also had one of the best coaches, if not the best coach (but you should all know my opinion on the matter: he's not) in Phil Jackson. It wasn't Jordan who taught Rodman how to rebound. Indeed, Rodman had already logged 3 of the top 5 rebounding seasons of all time when he joined the Bulls. Not to mention the countless other All-Stars, 3 Point Contest Winners, all NBA defensive players, and all NBA team players who played with Jordan. I'm pretty sure Magic and Bird had similar, if not quite as many, gifts on their respective teams (Jabar, Riley, McHale, and Parish), but I wasn't paying very close attention to Basketball in the years before I was born. None of these guys were made good by Magic, Bird, or Jordan. They were already good. They may have been given the chance to shine on a bigger stage, maybe they were even made slightly better, but without the fad three, those teams were all very good.

Now, take the case of the Cavs. LeBron played with Mo Williams and Big Z. Very arguably, these two guys owe their status as having been All-Stars to his play. Similarly, fired coach Mike Brown, who won Coach of the year in 2009, almost certainly owed that to LeBron. And... that's pretty much it. The Cavs for the last two years were a 60 plus win team. If you want to measure LeBron against Michael Jordan you can measure how much each man's presence swung their team's abilities. When his airness returned, the Bulls gained 17 wins over the year he had been totally absent, and set the NBA record for the best season ever at 72-10. If the Cavs drop by less than this from their 66 ('08-'09), 61 ('09-'10, a season LeBron sat out the last half dozen games of) win heights, then we will have decisively proved Jordan better than LeBron. If they don't, however, I'm sure there will be some new excuse for the King's inferiority.

The point of this isn't that LeBron didn't break a lot of hearts and disgust a lot of people (me included) when he announced that he was going to Miami. The point is that if you were breathing down LeBron's neck in May for not wanting to win enough, for not being enough of a competitive asshole, then you should have cheered this new Miami team on. If, on the other hand, you hated him then and you hate him even more now (I'm looking at you Simmons, Wojnarowski), then I suspect that you were just looking for an excuse to tear him down. And that makes you a Michael Jordan level asshole, but with no chance of winning the NBA Finals.