A day or so after Earvin "Magic" Johnson disclosed that he has the AIDS virus, another professional basketball player saw a divine plan in the wrenching news.
"God makes these things happen for a reason," said James Donaldson of the Dallas Mavericks.
The reason, Magic Johnson himself had suggested, was to carry a message to the world: everyone is vulnerable to AIDS, even those who are not intravenous drug users or homosexuals.
The player with the skills and the smile known 'round the basketball world had taken on a huge task. His message, of course, was anything but new, yet it had not been received and acted upon -- as his own situation made so clear. And there he was, walking from victim to savior.
Kevin Johnson, who plays for the Phoenix Suns, said, "Maybe Earvin is capable of carrying that kind of burden . . . with all the smiles and all he has done, maybe God said he would be the only one capable of carrying the burden." But even for a star as super as Earvin Johnson, even for one as courageous and human and humble as he seems, the hope that he would bring long-term change in sexual behaviour was certainly questionable.
At the same time, some value probably does inhere in the courageous witness of any man or woman at any level caught in such a crushing turn of fate. Magic is honored now as a person of transcendant courage and generosity -- not simply as an athlete -- and various astute observers say the honor is deserved.
So, the search for rationality and something positive in the ashes of misfortune begins again. The reflex is understandable and not novel. Five years ago, when University of Maryland basketball star Len Bias died of "cocaine intoxication," his coach, Charles G. "Lefty" Driesell, said, "We believe in the Lord. Whatever happens is in the Lord's plan."
During a memorial service for Mr. Bias at the university's basketball arena, Cole Field House, the Rev. Jesse L. Jackson said, "God sometimes uses our best people to get our attention. . . . If we had lost another plant, a lesser flower, we would not be here. But God chose a rose, a rose of our generation. Tonight," he said, "the children mourn. I hope they learn."
Have they learned about the fatal dangers of drugs?
What has been the impact of Len Bias's death in the place he lived, in Prince George's County, where the impact must surely have been the most devastating. Immediately after Mr. Bias died and the cause of death was certified, Circuit Court Judge Vincent Femia said, "Len Bias's death will take a hell of a lot of the romance out of drug use in the peer group where it has all the acceptance it has."
Last week, Judge Femia was asked what the flow of cases in his court suggests today about the long term impact. What had actually been learned?
"Nothing," the judge said.
That assessment comes from the bench, from a man who sees the results of drug-taking and selling every day. "As long as the press kept the story alive there was some impact," he said. "Kids said, 'Oh, yeah, that's terrible.' But how many changed their life styles? The average individual between 16 and 24 years of age today doesn't remember what happened. This community of users is a community of immature, very impatient people.
"All young people think they are invulnerable. My son told me the other day he wasn't going to work his ass off in life the way I did -- and then asked if he could borrow $10."
On a broader scale, some change has occurred in the nation's penchant for drug-taking -- from alcohol to crack and PCP. An Oct. 4 survey by the Partnership for a Drug Free America showed substantial increases in the anti-drug attitudes of young teenagers, members of society who are the most at-risk of damaging encounters with drugs.
The survey found a 52 percent decrease in experiments with marijuana since 1987, and a 69 percent decrease in trying cocaine. These children grew into their teen years after Len Bias died. They grew up with anti-drug messages on television, in newspapers, in classrooms and in their homes.
"It's paying off," says James E. Burke, chairman of Partnership for a Drug Free America. The Partnership, itself, has created 475 separate anti-drug messages and has received more than $1 billion in air time and space in print media for getting these messages to the target groups.
A lesson here, it would seem, is that the wave of emotion and sadness launched by Leonard Bias's death was effectively ridden by groups with money and political power. The U. S. Congress, driven directly by the fear generated among voters during summer Mr. Bias died, hurriedly approved huge sums of money to fight drugs; President Reagan, no fan of government programs, signed the bills. Questions arose later about how faithfully these financial commitments were kept, but some initial momentum was created.
Lonise Bias, Leonard's mother, took her powerful messages about youth and drugs and self-worth on a national speaking tour that still continues.