Right or not, Larry Bird's comments will invite scrutiny of every move he makes as Indiana's chief of basketball operations. Brian Babineau/Getty Images

Tennis wasn't one of the sports I followed as a child until the day I read in the newspaper that Arthur Ashe had reached the finals of a tournament that would be on television the next afternoon. I knew that Ashe was black, like me, and that was enough to pique my interest. I went to my set of encyclopedias (remember them?), and looked up the rules of tennis so I would understand what I was seeing when I watched the match. Ashe was instantly my favorite player for the simple reason that we shared the same skin color.

I understand, then, what Larry Bird was talking about the other day when he made the public relations mistake of talking candidly about race. During a group interview on ESPN with Magic Johnson, Carmelo Anthony and LeBron James, Bird was asked whether he thought the NBA lacked enough white superstars, and he answered in the affirmative. "You know, when I played, you had me and Kevin [McHale] and some others throughout the league," Bird said. "I think it's good for a fan base because, as we all know, the majority of the fans are white America. And if you just had a couple of white guys in there, you might get them a little excited."

Nowhere in that statement, as far as I can tell, does Bird suggest that he is racist, that white fans think today's black players are nothing but tattooed thugs, or that white players should be given a priority over blacks in the interest of attracting white fans, all of which are notions I've heard ascribed to him on the basis of those comments. Bird was simply saying that most people tend to feel a certain instinctive affinity toward others who look like them, particularly when they are in the minority. The emergence of a white NBA star in 2004 probably would stir more interest among many white fans the same way that Ashe grabbed the attention of a black kid in 1974.

When a group is under-represented in a given field, its members tend to take special notice, and often a certain pride, when someone from their ranks breaks through. Does anyone dispute that Yao Ming has increased NBA interest within the Asian community or that Ichiro, Hideki Matsui and other Japanese players have done the same for Major League Baseball? Which tennis match do you think an African-American kid is more likely to watch, one that features Serena Williams or one that showcases Jennifer Capriati? Why is it problematic to suggest that someone with Kobe Bryant's talent and John Stockton's complexion might have the same effect on the white community if he emerged in the NBA?

There's nothing sinister about this. At least there doesn't have to be. When fans go beyond identifying with players of their own racial, ethnic or cultural group and begin rooting against other players on that basis, then we have a problem. But it's possible to relate to members of one group without having negative feelings toward the others. Caucasians don't have to make the case that they don't care what color their superstars are. The popularity of Michael Jordan and Tiger Woods, to name just two, are proof enough that fans appreciate great talent regardless of the package it comes in. Go to any junior high school and you'll surely see more white kids wearing Allen Iverson jerseys than those of Mike Dunleavy Jr.

You can make the case that Bird, as the Indiana Pacers' president of basketball operations, should have given a more noncommittal answer to the race question because as an executive in charge of hiring and firing, his decisions will now be called into question. If the Pacers trade a black player for a white one, Bird's motives will be more carefully scrutinized in some corners. Did he make the trade for basketball purposes or to appeal to a certain segment of his fan base? His comments may have been unwise, but they weren't untrue. Anyone who thinks otherwise is blind to much more than just color.

Sports Illustrated senior writer Phil Taylor writes about a Hot Button topic every Monday on SI.com.