The Night Before the Shrug: How Magic Johnson Ignited My Iconic Moment

I remember that night vividly, as if it were etched into my bones. It was the evening before Game 1 of the 1992 NBA Finals against the Portland Trail Blazers, and I invited Magic Johnson over to my place. We were two legends, sharing laughs and stories, but as always, it turned competitive. We sat down for a card game, and I was confident—after all, I thrived on challenges. But Magic kept winning hand after hand, and with each loss, that familiar fire inside me grew hotter. By 1 AM, Magic was pleading to leave, saying I needed rest for the big game. But I wasn't done. I looked him dead in the eye and said, 'Nah, we're staying. I'm not letting you walk away with this.' That losing streak? It became personal, fueling a rage that would spill onto the court the next day. Little did I know, that card game would spark one of the most unforgettable performances of my career. 😤

The next afternoon, as I laced up my sneakers at the United Center, that anger from the night before was still simmering. Magic was there, too, but as part of the NBC broadcast team, not as a player—he'd retired two years earlier. I could see him on the sidelines, ready to call the action. Portland came out guns blazing in the first quarter, and we started cold, missing easy shots. But I wasn't worried. I channeled all that frustration from losing to Magic, and it ignited something primal. I began attacking the rim with my usual relentlessness, driving through defenders like they were mere obstacles. Then, something unexpected happened: my three-point shot, which I wasn't known for, started falling. One after another, I drained them from beyond the arc. By the second quarter, I was in a zone, hitting jumpers with ease as we went on a scorching 57-23 run.

When I sank my sixth three-pointer of the half, I couldn't believe it myself. I glanced over at Magic on the sidelines, and without thinking, I gave that shrug—a moment of pure disbelief. It was as if I was saying, 'Where did this come from?' But deep down, I knew: it was all that pent-up energy from the card game. Magic later told Jimmy Kimmel that he saw the look on my face that night, like I was ready to play right then. And he was right. That competitive fire, which defined my entire career, had been stoked by something as simple as losing at cards. Here’s a quick rundown of how that half unfolded:

• First quarter: Portland led early, but I started heating up with mid-range jumpers.

• Second quarter: I scored eight straight points, capped by that sixth three.

• The shrug: A spontaneous reaction that became iconic instantly.

That first half was a blur of adrenaline and focus. I racked up 35 points, setting an NBA Finals record that still stands today—no one has topped it since. Magic had a front-row seat to it all, and I could feel his amazement from across the court. He'd unwittingly lit the fuse, and now he was witnessing the explosion. The game itself was a blowout; I finished with 39 points on 16-of-27 shooting, including 6-of-10 from three-point range. We crushed Portland 122-89 in that opener, setting the tone for the series. Over the next five games, my intensity never wavered, averaging 35.8 points as we closed it out in six games to claim my second championship. That shrug moment wasn't just a highlight; it was a testament to how anything could become fuel for me. If it got personal, I turned it into domination. 🏀💥

Reflecting on it now, in 2025, that game remains a cornerstone of my legacy. Fans still talk about it, and Magic's role adds a layer of humor to the story. He often jokes that it was his 'fault' for beating me at cards, and I can't argue—it's true! That unrelenting drive, which carried me through six titles, was always sparked by the smallest slights. Whether it was a rival team or a friendly game, I made it matter. And that shrug? It symbolizes more than just a hot shooting night; it's a reminder of how passion and competition can create magic on the court. As I look back, I'm grateful for moments like these that define greatness.

To wrap it up, here's a table summarizing key stats from that iconic game:

In the end, every iconic moment of mine, from 'The Shot' to the Flu Game, was fueled by that same fire. But this one? It started with a deck of cards and Magic Johnson's winning hand. 😄