Not the End of Magic

AN AMERICAN HERO has been stricken with the AIDS virus. Twenty-four hours after having tested positive for the HIV-virus, Earvin "Magic" Johnson stepped forward and disclosed to the world that he was leaving professional basketball. It is difficult to overestimate the impact of Magic's unbelievably courageous announcement.

He was, as an athlete, one of our last and greatest heroes. He was a player and a leader who showed altruism on and off the court, a man who through his ever-present smile and honest game set an unparalleled example of fairness and bravery. He inspired through his passes, as well as through his high-fives, as much by sinking a three-point as by helping an opponent off the ground.

Off the court, he inspired his fellow players by actively engaging in public service, most importantly by raising millions for the United Negro College Fund. He was, in this age of cynicism and corrupted ideals, an untarnished symbol of the truly "good guy."

He has now admitted to having contracted the AIDS virus, and although it might be five to 10 years before the disease actually manifests itself, he chose to come forward now.

He did not, as many others have, deny it, or call it by another name, or refuse to admit it until the very end. He did not choose the easier or safer way out by simply resigning from the Lakers and then dealing with his illness alone.

He chose, unlike any public figure before him, to speak of AIDS as an illness, a disease, an epidemic--not as a way of life. He chose to change the way the world views AIDS.

He has, as many have said, given AIDS a face, an idolized, cherished and beloved face. No longer will AIDS victims be viewed with quite the same disdain or disgust, no longer will they be ignored quite as much as they have been up to now, no longer will AIDS be the pariah's disease.

"I think sometimes we think, well only gay people can get it--'It's not going to happen to me.' And I'm here saying that it can happen to anybody, even me, Magic Johnson." He is sending a message that heterosexuals as well as homosexuals should be careful, that education must be improved and emphasized even as efforts are made to find a cure. He spoke for the victims of the future.

"When your back is against the wall, you have to come out swinging," he said, still wearing that quiet smile. To say that, to have the inner strength to speak in such terms, is to set an example of courage which will far surpass anything he ever did as an athlete.

IT IS NOW for the rest of the world, and in particular the millions of Americans to whom he gave so much, to honor his bravery by listening to his message. His voice must not go unheard; his actions must not be ignored. "I plan to be around for a long time," Magic said.

Just as he pledges to use that time to preach safe sex and greater understanding of AIDS, so too must all his fans and admirers answer his call. Millions of letters are already streaming into L.A., and by evoking such a response from Americans of all races, creeds and ages, he has done more to help AIDS victims than anyone else thus far.

It is truly telling that commentators and writers across the country are not speaking of what this might do to Magic personally, but of what he has done for others by identifying his image and his character with AIDS.

"I've loved Magic all my life, and this won't change that," a ten-year old kid told a television reporter. That is the essence of this deeply tragic event. Magic's instincts of selflessness and generosity prevailed over all other human responses to this devastating revelation, and as such, proved Magic to be as great a hero, as worthy an idol as we could ever hope to find in a public figure.