Bryan Hinkle
Twitter: @BryanHinkle1
Instagram: @duke4005
1992. I was still playing ball that mattered (not giving up what grade though), and Magic/Michael was growing into a rivalry like the NBA hadn’t seen ever. West coast, run and gun, smilimg killers in purple and gold against East Coast (Conference-wise), gritty, grinding, shove it down your throat defenders. EVERYONE I knew had a favorite, and it was one of these two (except me – I rolled with Run-TMC).
Then, in November of 1992, the Magic died. I cried in the hallway before getting on the bus to go play my first game of the year.
He didn’t literally die – he is still thriving. The aura – untouchable – was gone. Magic announced he had the HIV virus that causes AIDS. Now, these days, that is still a big, big thing, but in 1992, when the public knew NOTHING about treatments or prevention, it was a death sentence. Except for Magic.
Most of the players rallied around him, at least in public. He played no games that year, but he did get voted a starter in the All-Star game. And he scored 25 points. And he dished 9 assists. And he grabbed 5 boards. The last minutes of the game, he was called out by numerous East players who wanted one more shot at the champ. And in the last seconds, he hit an impossible turn-around 25 foot three that could only be made by, well, “Magic”.
11 of the 12 original Dream-Teamers were in this game – a star-studded, Hall of Fame lineup. In the end, there was only one MVP. And, honestly, I cried again. The Magic was over.
