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Everyone marveled at his
skills
By Phil Taylor, Sports Illustrated
Posted: Wed September 30,
1998
Larry Bird almost made me like the Celtics. That may not
seem like much of a compliment, but before I gave up my
allegiances to become a supposedly objective reporter, I
grew up a Knicks fan in New York, where hating Boston is
not a choice, it's a duty.
From an early age, I despised all things Celtic—the
leprechaun, the parquet floor, Red Auerbach's cigar. But
then this pasty-faced country kid came along and made me
rethink my attitude. He destroyed the Knicks, just as he
did everyone else in the
league, and after a while, you had to stop being angry that he
did it and start trying to figure out
how he did
it.
Bird looked like he had never been in the same room as a
barbell. He wasn't a great leaper, hardly ever bothering to
dunk. If you had timed him in the 40 you probably would
have suggested that he take up bowling. Yet he somehow made
fools of players who
had bigger biceps, better hang times and more speed, and
whether you were rooting for or against him, you had to
marvel at
him.
Beyond that, Bird made the game seem more accessible to
anyone with modest athletic talents. To watch him excel
night after night was to be reminded that instinct, vision,
intelligence and diligent practice were more important than
a 40-inch vertical
leap. You could not help but admire him for that, no matter
what your hometown team was.
I remember sitting in the stands at Madison Square Garden
one night when the Celtics were in town. The New York fans
were riding Bird unmercifully, calling him a hick and
chanting "overrated" repeatedly during warmups.
Bird never changed expression,
never let on that he heard a word. Then he went out and put on
a clinic. He seemed to make every jumper on offense,
anticipate every pass on defense. Late in the game, he cut
down the lane, took a pass from a teammate and in the same
motion flicked a
no-look pass over his right shoulder to Kevin McHale for a dunk.
It was such a beautiful play that there was an audible gasp
from the crowd, and then a burst of applause. Bird had won
the tough New York fans over, and they simply had to give
him his
due.
Only the greatest athletes have that ability, the capacity
to make an audience forget competition and appreciate
individual artistry. Even if he had never won three NBA
championships, three MVP awards and an Olympic gold medal,
Bird would have deserved
entrance into the Hall of Fame on that quality alone. The
Hall is a place for artists, and Larry Bird was a creator
of
masterpieces.
Sports Illustrated senior writer Phil Taylor covers the NBA beat and appears
regularly on CNN/Sports Illustrated and CNN's This Week in the NBA.
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