San Francisco Chronicle - Wednesday, November 7, 2001
David Steele

"As the children mourn," Jackson said, "so shall they learn." A few days after Jackson spoke, NFL player Don Rogers OD'd on coke. America's appetite for drugs doesn't seem to have slowed appreciably since then. Which brings us to Magic Johnson.

Ten years ago today, he revealed to a stunned planet that he had "attained" the virus that causes AIDS, and the talk of lessons began again. You couldn't open a newspaper or magazine, turn on the TV or radio or sit anywhere for two minutes without the topic being raised. Will this, finally, awaken everyone to the truths and misperceptions of how people can get this, and how they can avoid it?

And if nothing else, will this slap Magic's fellow athletes into reality, make them re-examine the self-indulgent lifestyles they also giddily followed and show some common sense about the practices that, at the time, seemed to have handed him a death sentence?

Yeah, right.

Here are three answers to that question: "Where's Daddy?" Shawn Kemp. Gold Club.

The national magazine cover story ran a mere seven years after Magic's announcement, and the subsequent revelations about the sexual risks he took on the path to contracting HIV. The "Where's Daddy?" story was about athletes in every sport scattering the landscape with out-of-wedlock children. Kemp was the poster boy, and he became a national punchline because of it. Ten children by eight women -- you have to laugh to keep from crying. For those children, their mothers, and for Kemp, who was barely out of his teens when Magic dropped his stunner.

Kemp didn't learn. What chance do today's teenagers in today's NBA, or the other sports, have? What example of behavior is presented by their elders, like Patrick Ewing, Terrell Davis and Andruw Jones, the de facto stars of the Gold Club trial last summer? Of course, it wasn't the focus of the trial, whether the players to whom strippers were pimped out were practicing safe sex, but draw your own conclusions.

The world surrounding big-time athletes still resembles one giant Gold Club; a stroll through the lobby of any pro team's hotel offers a clear, if seamy, view. The number of drug incidents barely have diminished in the years since Bias, and the instances of paternity suits, demands for child support and allegations of sexually transmitted diseases hardly have slowed, either, in the post-Magic decade. Sports' biggest proponent of abstinence, veteran NBA player A.C. Green, gets laughed at and taunted mercilessly by all but the most devout.

The NBA and NFL have added detailed, intensive discussions of AIDS and HIV to their rookie orientation programs, as well as their annual talks to individual teams. It's part of a general vigilance against the traditional vices that perennially catch athletes off guard.

The impact this has had is hard to determine. On the surface, you'd guess there was none.

But if a worldwide celebrity of the magnitude of Magic Johnson didn't deliver the necessary punch, maybe nothing will. Magic has been talking about being safe since the day of his announcement. "Guys, get out your hat, your raincoat -- whatever you want to call a condom -- and wear it," he said in a magazine article soon after. "Maybe by getting the virus, I'll make it easier for you guys to be strong."

It's a terrible irony, though, that his very presence might be the biggest reason the message never truly took hold. At age 42, he looks as if he still could play in the NBA. Besides all his business interests, he frequently tours with his exhibition team. He also owns part of a chain of fitness clubs, including one in Richmond -- and he's now in commercials for the club, saying that others can be like him and be "jazzed and stress-free."

Last week, when he played against his alma mater, Michigan State, he took the time to correct a reporter who had referred to him as being "sick."

"I feel wonderful," he said.

As inspirational as that is, some AIDS experts and activists believe that it might lead those still engaging in risky behavior to think the virus and the disease are no longer anything to fear.

Pro sports officials share this fear. There's a legitimate concern around the NBA that players who were in third grade when Magic left -- and were in junior high when he retired for the third time, in 1996 -- don't relate to him. Nor can they relate to a worldwide pandemic, because c'mon, look at Magic.

Combined with a young athlete's usual sense of invincibility, that's a terrifying prospect. Of course, the sight of Len Bias in a coffin didn't get some athletes to kick their habits, so a robust Magic Johnson can't be an easy sell.

Magic can't be faulted for any of this. He tried.

It's his fellow athletes who have failed.

E-mail David Steele at dsteele@sfchronicle.com.
011107
SC011104

Always watch for outdated information. This article first appeared in 2001. This material is designed to support, not replace, the relationship that exists between you and your doctor.

AEGiS presents published material, reprinted with permission and neither endorses nor opposes any material. All information contained on this website, including information relating to health conditions, products, and treatments, is for informational purposes only. It is often presented in summary or aggregate form. It is not meant to be a substitute for the advice provided by your own physician or other medical professionals. Always discuss treatment options with a doctor who specializes in treating HIV.

Copyright ©1980, 2001. AEGiS. All materials appearing on AEGiS are protected by copyright as a collective work or compilation under U.S. copyright and other laws and are the property of AEGiS, or the party credited as the provider of the content. .