The Makings of Magic

One of the things I love most about sports is that, as an institution, it provides a unique lens through which we can view history, society and life. We can look at time as those intervals between Olympics, March's or Post-Seasons. We can know regions, nations and groups of people by their colors, sports and arenas of choice. And most importantly, we can understand conflicts as unfamiliar undercurrents in the context of beloved global past times. The hostages in Munich. The Troubles erupting at UK football matches. Ernie Davis. Billie Jean King. All of these are examples of sporting events, practices or figures that epitomize a wave in human history. And one more to add to the list, especially after last night's documentary "The Announcement" on ESPN, is Magic Johnson.

When Magic realized his condition and announced it to the world in 1991, I was far too young to know what was going on. And even as I grew up in a world that was slowly desensitizing to the existence of HIV and AIDS, I didn't hear his name as often as I should have. After all, my understanding of what this unhealthy pairing was and did mostly came from the movie RENT. But having watched "The Announcement," I regret that I didn't have a full understanding of Magic Johnson's role in that period of history – where AIDS swept through like a plague and changed the course of every institution (sexual conduct, sports, politics, pop culture) it touched – until now.

But better late than never and I cannot thank ESPN enough for working with Magic Johnson to remind generations past of his hardship and to shed light on a vital period of history in a culturally relevant way for my generation. And beyond teaching us about the history of HIV/AIDS, the documentary shows that, with the right amount of courage and support, one powerful man can do a whole lot for a lot of people when empowered from within. As Magic Johnson's wife initially asked him to do, the athlete could have kept his situation private. Or as many others do, he could have completely disappeared from public life in shame and accepted the inevitable alienation. But Magic saw his curse as a gift – an opportunity to help the world around him. A world made of people who had the virus, people who were at risk to get the virus and people who needed to learn to be okay with the virus. We didn't know it at the time, but we needed a man like Magic Johnson to take his circumstances and force us to understand. Not through evangelical PR campaigns and defensive interviews. But with compassion, honesty, faith and humility.

All of this comes back to a theme I frequently touch on in my blog: that athletes, and all others who welcome fame and publicity into their lives, must also be accepting of the fact that they have a responsibility. That they are subject to public opinion and, in turn, are indebted to an unwritten moral code, a double standard. That they are obligated to see their actions as more than just personal choices, but instead significant ripples in the waters of the human condition. And the keyword there is human. One of the most inspiring aspects of Magic Johnson's story is that he struck a fantastic balance between using fame to further the cause and using the prevalence of his illness to show its relevance and nature. And when a person can step up while also stepping away from himself, to use his pre-established power and greatness for good, well there is simply nothing more magical than that.