With news coming out that Terrell Owens ignored Bill Parcells' championship speech on Monday because his mind was fixed on his forthcoming birthday bash in Los Angeles, Larry Bird celebrated his birthday today.
Could two completely dissimilar men possibly share the same birthday week?
Ironically, Owens celebrated his 33rd birthday in the city that #33 clashed with throughout the great 80s. Seems like Bird and Los Angeles truly will have parallels between them in the oddest of ways.
But rather than wasting words on Owens and his prima donna ways, the rest of this space will be reserved for a player that epitomized hard work and deserved every ounce of success that came his way.
Although I'm a writer first and a Laker fan second, the utmost respect that all Laker fans have (anointing myself as Laker fan-representative of the day) for Larry Bird may have taken years to develop, but it certainly is there nonetheless. The contrasting styles of the teams and cities has long been understood as the reason for why their rivalry in the era of Duran Duran, WHAM!, and the Bangles was so enthralling.
In reality, it was the similarities in the players of that time that made the Celtics/Lakers rivalry so damn special.
Magic, Bird, Worthy, Abdul-Jabbar, Johnson, Parrish, McHale .. the names go on and on .. and one thing that they all have in common? They worked their tails off, diving for loose balls and hustling back on defense. Not a single player had any sense of entitlement about them - they worked hard for the betterment of the team, even if it required some sacrifice on their own. Nowadays, players like that - the "Mr. Floorburns", the "bangers", and the "energy role players" - are a rarely found commodity teams try to hold onto. Why else would Anderson Varejao, David Lee, and Ronny Turiaf be such fan favorites?
Back then, though, everyone was Mr. Floorburn. The "specialist" skill of today was almost a necessity before.
As salaries rose, a different mentality began to emerge from professional athletesthat the 80s players brought to the table .. but at the end of the day, fans were drawn to their commitments to their game and to their team.
When you watch those classic games and watch the fans and their feathered hairstyles bouncing up and down and sleeveless arms raised, you realize quickly that those fans had something very different to cheer for - something much better. They cheered for players who overcame their average athletic ability and used their brains to beat their opponents.
And Larry Legend made himself the quintessential example of that type of player.
He represented the everyman, the blue collar guy with Midwestern work ethic. In so doing, Larry Bird became the accessible legend, the one New England could identify with.
Sure, Jordan and Magic and Dr. J led the highlight reels, galloping through the air like a prize-winning winged thoroughbred. And of course the beauty of the skyhook was unparalleled.
But it was Bird who was the master of the mediocre, perfecting his game with the subtleties of head fakes, positioning, and the fundamentals of the game. He learned how to rebound without using outstanding leaping ability or an overbearing frame, but in making sure he was in the proper position to box his man out. He learned how to anticipate his opponent's passes, stepping into the lane to capture a steal. He learned to fake passes and shots to blow by his defenders. He learned the perfect shooting motion and then worked tirelessly to perfect it; after all, no one is born with an innate ability to have a gorgeous jumper.
We could all do what Larry Bird did because the game was in his head more so than it was in his body. We could all toil and labor and hope to achieve the level of success on the greatest of stages just like he did.
Of course, with all that hard work came a confidence in his abilities that we'd all gain if we knew we could outsmart our opponents. "One of my earliest memories of Larry Bird comes from an NBA Finals game - one of those classic showdowns between the Lakers and Celtics" said Bill Ingram, Executive Editor for Basketball News Services. "I remember the Celtics needed a three to win the game and there were just a few seconds left on the clock. The Celtics inbounded to Bird. He caught the ball behind the arch, launched a three, turned and told Pat Riley the shot was good, and as he walked away you could see the ball fall through the net behind him. Game over, Celtics win."
That was no fluke, either. During the 1988 All-Star festivities, Bird continued his confidence in his shooting ability by completing his three-peat and domination over the three-point contest. The contest was introduced in '86 and Bird was the only winner it had ever known and '88 was no different. Going into that last shot, the clinching money ball that would secure his third straight victory, Bird raised a finger in the air right after the ball left his fingertips, again knowing that the ball would flow through the net.
Had he missed, the finger would have been a foolish move and a scar of arrogance on Bird's body of work. Had the shot against the Lakers clanked, Riles would have had something to humiliate Bird with forever.
But neither happened because Bird slogged his way into making sure of it.
Larry Bird was me and you and everyone we know. He used his will and overcame what God didn't give him and became a legend by competing and succeeding amongst those who were granted those athletic boons. "He was completely dedicated to being the best," Ingram said, "and for a while he certainly was."
So here's to you, Mr. Bird. You gave hope to a fan that hated you and your team. You taught me and countless others that this game (and life) is as much about effort as it is about genes.
As your birthday comes to a close, perhaps it is you who have given us the ultimate gift.
All I can give you on this day is a sincere and heartfelt "thank you".
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