Character Driven by Derek Fisher, Gary Brozek Read Free Book Online Page A

became a reality is again part of that larger plan that I could not have put into motion on my own. When I came to the Lakers, I knew about the transition that Magic had made from basketball superstar to entrepreneur and advocate. As much success as he earned on the court, he has achieved even more off the court. Magic Johnson Enterprises and the Magic Johnson Foundation are two parts of that success. The first is an enormously successful business organization, and the second is a charitable foundation that has done incredible good work. What unites them is Magic’s sense of community and empowering those in ethnically diverse communities to take charge of their futures. As a two-year-old, of course, I had no sense of the possibilities that were open to me.
    Many years later, I was proud that Magic recognized something in me. Magic had no way of knowing this, but during the first month of my first season in L.A., as I stood on the balcony of my apartment in Marina Del Rey—I was alone, and the city lights sprawled out beneath me—I said to myself, “One day, I’m going to be big in this city, big like Magic.” At the time, I didn’t fully understand what an affirmation was in the way that I do today. Thirteen years have come and gone, and there are certainly bigger stars in the L.A. firmament than me, but something close to magic has happened in that time. Dreams are powerful things, and the Lord has moved more than mountains it seems since I was that two-year-old kid with the good shooting form.
    I’m not sure who instructed me in the good shooting technique captured in that photo of me as a baby, but it could have been my half brother, Duane. My mom had previously been married, and Duane was ten years old by the time I was born. He was already playing on various school teams and at the local Boys Club when I came around. I can’t say I idolized Duane, but I did want to go to the gym with him. Today, I understand that when he was fifteen and sixteen, the very last thing he wanted was to have a little brother tag along. My mom and dad insisted that he take me to the Penick Boys Club in the Boyle Park section of Little Rock or to the gym at Parkview High School, where he played.
    At first he resisted the idea, but not for long. My mom and dad, my dad especially, knew how to lay down the law. They did not put up with any back talk. That was part of the reason Duane moved out of our house to live with his biological father for a short while. At the time, I didn’t really know what was going on. Duane was there one day and gone the next. A few months later he was back. Whether it was the military that instilled a sense of discipline in my father that he carried over into his family life, or if his own father was a no-nonsense man, I’m not sure. All I know is that my backside was on familiar terms with my father’s hand. Divorce is never easy on a kid, and I suspect that Duane had some issues to deal with—the “you’re not my real father” kind of thing that would surely have upset my dad. I remember my mom saying once that Duane needed some discipline in his life. I think that my mother’s soft side must have taken over in the wake of the divorce.
    Of the two, my mom was definitely the softer touch. What do you expect of a woman whose people came from a place called Sweet Home, Arkansas? I can’t think of a better word to describe my mother than sweet . She could be strong, too, when the situation required. That sweetness carried over to her cooking as well. I can remember eating a lot of meals with one of her specialties—minute rice with sugar and butter sprinkled on it. I know it doesn’t sound like much, but even today those simple flavors can stir up all kinds of pleasant memories. With my mother’s family nearby and my father’s in Louisiana, we spent more of our time with her family than his. We were a tight-knit bunch, and that was reflected in our Sunday-afternoon, postchurch family dinners. All my