On with the show: Magic Johnson's return brightened the Lakers' hopes and the NBA's appeal

Sporting News, The, Feb 12, 1996 by Mark Shimabukuro

Here he is again, still larger than life and even larger than he used to be, high-stepping across half-court, barreling down the lane, finding the open man like no one else. Suddenly it's as if he never went away. The passion, the will, The Smile -- they're all still there, even if all the skills aren't. Here's a glimpse into the beginning of Magic Johnson's comeback tour.

The genesis

Magic Johnson's announcement January 29 marked the end of serious contemplation and wavering that began in Maui, Hawaii, last summer, while he was running his fantasy camp. He was so serious then that he talked with a Forum marketing executive about which uniform he would wear (he considered No. 5 -- the sum of 3 and 2). Lakers announcer Chick Hearn, who talked with Johnson about the details of his comeback on the flight home from Hawaii, was convinced Johnson would tell him within days that it was official. But the call never came.

As the Lakers' fortunes went up and down in the first half of this season, so did Johnson's thoughts of returning. Would he be a help or a hindrance? Three weeks ago, he decided the best place to get an answer was on the court. He began practicing with the players but stopped after two days, his doubts still lingering.

"I just don't think can do this," be said.

Coach Del Harris called. And Cedric Ceballos and Nick Van Exel. And executive vice president Jerry West and General Manager Mitch Kupchak. The message was the same: We really want you back. He talked with his wife, Cookie, and his parents, then with his agent, Lon Rosen.

On January 24, Johnson and two members of his international traveling team went to Phoenix to attend the Super Bowl. But when Johnson rented a gym, Lester Conner, a former NBA player, and another teammate noticed a change. Instead of running drills for exhibition games, Johnson implored the players to lean on him physically. He worked furiously on defense and practiced his hook.

"It was the kind of thing you work on in training camp," Conner says.

When the trio went out to lunch, Johnson broke into a big smile. "I guess I don't need to tell you guys anything," he said.

The sign

Two hours before tip-off against the Warriors, his first real game as a Laker since June 12, 1991, Johnson, 36, pulled off his tan sweater, set it aside, and pulled on the yellow jersey, No. 32. He was asked if he realized what he had just done. "Yeah, I know," he said. "I can't even begin to tell you."

He entered the game with 9:39 remaining in the first quarter. His first shot, a baby hook, missed off the front rim. His first assist -- No. 9,922 of his career -- came about two minutes later, on a 3-pointer by Anthony Peeler. But it wasn't until 3:59 of the first quarter that his return was complete. Faking a no-look pass to the right comer, Johnson showed the ball to Latrell Sprewell with a quick flick of his right arm. Sprewell jumped two feet toward the comer, and Johnson pulled the ball back and rumbled in for an easy layup.

He may have had the build of Antoine Carr and the bottom of Oliver Miller, but the court sense, the dazzle, hadn't faded. For one moment at least, it was as if Silk, Coop-a-loop, even Dancing Barry, were all back. By game's end, after a layoff of 55 months, Johnson had 19 points, 8 rebounds and 10 assists. "He's the man, still," Sprewell said.

The icon

How would you like to throw a curve to Ted Williams, catch a tight spiral from Johnny Unitas or have Wayne Gretzky snap a pass right on the tape of your stick? Not many athletes get a chance to play with or against the gods they worshipped as children. Joe Smith and others are getting that chance. Smith grew up with a poster of Johnson taped to his wall, imitating him and dreaming about seeing him play. Last week, he had the task of guarding Johnson. "It was cool," he said. When Johnson won his first NBA title in 1980, Smith was 4. Kenny Anderson was 9. Penny Hardaway was 7.

"It was just amazing," Lakers guard Eddie Jones said after Johnson's first game. A couple of times, I thought, "How did he see me? How did he throw that pass?' And how many guys get to play basketball with a guy they idolized all those years? It's hard to explain what we're all feeling right now."

"Now I know," Lakers forward Cedric Ceballos says, "why James Worthy loved playing here all these years."

The reaction

The reception of Johnson inside the league has been mostly positive, and much more so than in 1992, partly because the league has educated players about the virus and now takes precautions on the court. Still, he has his detractors. The 76ers' Vernon Maxwell and the Nets' Armon Gilliam have expressed concern about becoming infected, and the Hawks' Steve Smith told CNN that other players are anxious but are afraid to speak out.

Is there a danger? Dr. Gary Cohan, an HIV specialist in Beverly Hills, says the risk of transmission on the basketball court is 1 in 8.5 billion, or as the Nets' Jayson Williams says, "You've got a better chance of Ed McMahon knocking on your door than you have of catching AIDS in a basketball game."