Magic is the best.
I can’t think of a better grand marshal for the 2026 Pasadena Tournament of Roses than Laker great Magic Johnson, and neither could TofR President Mark Leavens.
And that’s a good thing.
You do have to wonder whether the prexy already had Magic locked up for the honor when he chose his theme for the New Year’s Day Rose Parade and Rose Bowl and all the other extravaganza, “The Magic in Teamwork,” and perhaps we’ll never know. White Suiters tend to be tight-lipped about such matters.
Few may know that, while everything else about the volunteer organization is by its complicated nature a matter of teamwork as well, the two things that current presidents, all of whom work their way up after many decades of service, do all by themselves is to choose the theme, and to choose the grand marshal. Nothing if not prudent, or they wouldn’t be where they are, no one is going to second-guess their choices.
Southern California sports-culture wise, this is right up there with the choice a few years ago of Dodgers announcer Vin Scully.
And, hey, as part-owner of the Dodgers as well, as his team is playing great ball and heading, fingers crossed, knock wood, for another World Series, Magic is an honorary Mr. October, too.
Everyone loved Vin. Everyone loves Magic. You just can’t help but smile when you see him smile, which is every time you see him. What a tonic for the soul is the ongoing optimism with which Magic runs his businesses, his philanthropy and his life.
Not being a sportswriter, the last time I wrote about Magic in these pages was an unsigned editorial for the paper the day in 1991 that he announced that he had tested positive for HIV, and would be retiring from the NBA.
Given the amazing medical and pharmaceutical advances against the disease that causes AIDS that we are blessed with today, it can be hard to remember that 34 years ago, an HIV diagnosis was tantamount to a death sentence. So as I wrote the editorial, I was not only lamenting the fact that the Lakers would be losing their star player. I was grappling with the fact that the beloved Magic would likely soon die from the disease, a hard blow indeed.
Rather than wallow in self-pity, Magic went on to be a leading spokesman for the fight against AIDS, and played a major role in de-stigmatizing it. What a mensch. He approached the diagnosis the way he approached everything else, with grace and grit. And he beat it, in the bargain.
Honestly, everyone was so spooked about AIDS back then, thinking that you could get the disease from a sprinkle of perspiration or even a handshake, that he couldn’t have kept playing in the league. But, still in great shape and unwilling to stop playing, he formed the Magic Johnson All-Stars and barnstormed around the world in exhibition games with people who better understood the actual science.
When Magic first came to the Lakers, I was confused about his style of play. He was a guard, but he was built like a forward. A bit almost awkward when handling the ball. Unlike my favorite Laker guards of the past – a Jerry West, a Gail Goodrich – he did not exactly float like a butterfly, popping jump-shot swishes from beyond the top of the key. But he sure stung opposing teams like a bee with his no-look passes and his totally unselfish play, interesting not in scoring for himself but in winning games for the Showtime-era Lakers, and led them to five NBA championships.
That kind of style is the ultimate example of teamwork.
Come Jan. 1, Magic will fit right in with the teamwork and clockwork that produces a parade that, if it doesn’t step off precisely at 8 a.m., heads roll.
Here’s my advice for the (dumb, TV-induced) fact that this coming year, for the first time in a zillion years, the Rose Bowl Game has to kick off in the Arroyo Seco at 1 p.m. instead of the traditional 2 p.m.
Don’t do what my grandfather Elmer Wilson did after the rain-soaked Rose Parade for which he served as president in 1955. Don’t, after the long, 5.5-mile slog up Orange Grove Boulevard and all the way east on Colorado Boulevard to Victory Park ends, decide to ditch, as Elmer did, his Grand Marshal Earl Warren’s security team and head over to his pal Louie Edwards’ house for a hot toddy – or two.
Given the traffic, you’ll never make it to the Bowl by the ridiculously early kick-off.
Being a team player, Magic, no matter what the New Year’s weather, will never do that.
Welcome to the Pasadena team, big man. Thanks for continuing to inspire all of Southern California with your smile and what’s behind it: Your love for all that you passionately do.
Larry Wilson is deputy Opinion editor of the Southern California News Group.