“If I didn’t have that, other than a couple of championships, what is it?” – Larry Bird admits he wouldn’t have enjoyed his career if there was no Magic Johnson to compete against originally appeared on Basketball Network.
For nearly a decade, the NBA’s fiercest rivalry was not just the Boston Celtics versus the Los Angeles Lakers, it was Larry Bird versus Magic Johnson. Every bounce of the ball in those 1980s Finals carried the weight of tradition, ego and legacy.
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Bird, cast in the gritty mold of Boston’s blue-collar pride, had no intention of ever crossing enemy lines, no matter how much he admired the man wearing purple and gold. The thought of donning a Lakers jersey never once crossed his mind, not even in theory.
The joy of competition
Theirs wasn’t the type of rivalry that inspired thoughts of teaming up; it was one that demanded opposition, sustained by the deep-rooted pride of their franchises and their own competitive bloodlines.
“I enjoyed competing against Magic,” Bird fondly remembered. “I really did, and I would think he would say the same thing. We’re pretty good friends, but once you step on that court, it was all out…When I look back through all that, I had more enjoyment beating him than I had beating anybody. If I didn’t have that, other than a couple of championships, what is it?”
Their careers mirrored and challenged each other from the start. In 1979, Bird and Johnson turned a college basketball title game into a cultural moment, one that pulled in a then-record 35.1 million viewers. Bird’s Indiana State lost to Magic’s Michigan State, but that singular contest cemented their parallel paths.
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From there, the NBA needed them. Bird landed in Boston, Johnson in Los Angeles and the league was never the same. By 1984, they had met twice in the NBA Finals. The contrast in style, personality and background was compelling.
Bird was precise, stoic, ruthless in execution. Johnson was flash, flair and court vision wrapped in a 6-foot-9 frame.
Bird’s mindset feels like a throwback to a different code. This wasn’t about market efficiency or roster optimization. It was about proving supremacy the hard way by going through the best, not joining them. There was no temptation to blend his genius with his rival. No alternative universe where they ran Showtime together. The rivalry was the whole point.
Bird vs. Magic
Bird and Johnson were living out the continuation of a basketball war that predated them. The Celtics and Lakers had already met in the Finals seven times before 1980. Bill Russell versus Jerry West, John Havlicek versus Elgin Baylor. By the time Bird and Johnson took the stage, they were inheriting legacies.
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Every Finals matchup between them, from college to the NBA, was another chapter in a decades-long fight for basketball’s soul.
“We started in college; this goes way back,” Bird said. “So the intensity plus you got to remember that the Lakers and the Celtics were battling it out in the ’60s, so this was just a carryover and man, it was fun.”
That carryover became a spectacle. Between 1980 and 1989, the Lakers and Celtics combined for eight titles and appeared in every Finals except two. Bird’s Celtics won in 1981, 1984 and 1986. Johnson’s Lakers claimed the crown in 1980, 1982, 1985, 1987 and 1988. Their three head-to-head Finals matchups helped drag the NBA out of its tape-delayed broadcasts and into prime time.
But beneath the intensity was always a measure of respect, tough, earned and cemented over the years. Both superstars helped save the league together, but they didn’t need to stand side by side to do it.
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In fact, they were better apart. Their dynamic worked because it was oppositional, not collaborative.
This story was originally reported by Basketball Network on Jun 11, 2025, where it first appeared.