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Do you remember A.C. Green? If so, then you’re really old. Dude was the NBA’s Iron Man in the late 80’s and 90’s. He was also known for being the only guy in the NBA who was a virgin. He was Tim Tebow and Cal Ripken, except without the steroids. Well, I just read this book called Showtime: Magic, Kareem, Riley, and the Los Angeles Lakers Dynasty of the 1980s, and it’s basically the best book I’ve ever read. Tells the story of all the debauchery of the showtime Lakers with the short shorts. Basically, A.C. Green couldn’t have played on a team with more temptation than L.A. Here’s some of my favorite excerpts:

Many Lakers agree the most beautiful women they ever met were encountered at Johnson’s. They were models, strippers, actresses, exotic dancers. There was no hotter ticket than an invite to the mansion, but—while Laker players and opponents were almost always allowed—women had to meet certain criteria. First, they had to be gorgeous. Second, they had to be promiscuously dressed. Third, they had to be willing to do . . . things.

Johnson fancied himself not merely an entertainer, but a maestro. “If you ever die and go to heaven, you want heaven to be Magic’s house parties,” said Frank Brickowski, a future Lakers teammate. “He would have the finest girls in L.A. there. The absolute finest. And at midnight you had to get busy with somebody or you had to get the fuck out. So if you were a guy, at midnight you’d get as close as you could to the hottest possible woman. Magic went around in this freaky voyeuristic way. He’d check on you. He’d go throughout the house, the pool. He’d order people to start doing things. All you had to be was near a chick. There were guys who would yell, ‘Magic, she’s not getting busy! She’s not!’ He’d run over and she’d get busy. Celebrity is seductive in L.A. Girls have this desperation about them, like moths to a flame. It’s sad. But when you’re young and single, fame matters.”

Nothing to see here. Just Magic Johnson tiptoeing around his mansion demanding that his house guests fornicate with each other at the stroke of midnight. WTF kind of situation was this? Apparently Magic was more than just the leader on the hardwood. When a loose morale woman isn’t putting out, you call the Magic 8 Ball.

Just because one was a Laker didn’t mean sexual conquests always came easily. Yet Johnson wasn’t merely the most eligible bachelor in Los Angeles—he was the most eligible bachelor in California. He once wrote of his rendezvous: “Some were secretaries. Some were lawyers. Quite a few were actresses or models. Others were teachers, editors, accountants, or entrepreneurs. There were bimbos, too, but not that many. Most of these women were college-educated professionals. Some were black, some were white, some were Hispanic, or Asian. Some of these women were very open about what they were doing, and some were more discreet. A few would even brag about all the players they had slept with. For others, this was all a part of a very secret life.

“Most of them were in their mid-20s. Every now and then you’d come across a teenager, but if you were smart you stayed away from her. These kids were simply too young—not only legally, but emotionally, too.”

This was the Sodom and Gomorrah-esque world that greeted A. C. Green.

I can’t believe he got AIDS. I just can’t believe how that could’ve possibly happened.

The team opened with a two-game Texas road swing at San Antonio and Dallas, and Johnson and company wasted little time. While taking the bus from the San Antonio International Airport to the hotel, the Laker star yelled toward Green, “Rook, we haven’t figured you out yet, but we’re going to take a bet.”

“What sort of bet?” the rookie asked.

“Once you start seeing these girls around the NBA,” he said, “you won’t be thinking any of that Christian and God stuff.”

“Really?” said Green. “You think so?”

Johnson liked the newcomer’s confidence. He also laughed at it. The NBA was the land of long legs and quick bangs. Few could resist its charms. “We’ll give you two months, and you’ll be done,” he said. “Two months.” Johnson removed the baseball cap from his head and passed it around, urging his teammates to plunk down some money. By the time the hat returned to its owner, Green was staring at nearly $300 in crumpled bills. “You don’t get laid once in two months, the money’s yours,” said Johnson. “But there’s no fucking way. . . .”

$300? Every dooshnozzle on that bus was a millionaire. And Magic thinks he’s gonna get A.C. Green to flip for a whopping $300 bucks? No wonder he’s such a dumbass.

Less than a month later, the Lakers were in Portland to face the Blazers. Green, who was reared in the city, scored 11 points in 27 minutes of action (“I played lousy,” he said), and afterward stood outside the locker room, chatting away with a striking young woman. “I saw all the guys sorta looking over, wondering what was going on,” Green recalled. “Finally someone comes over and says, ‘Hey, rookie, who is this?'”

Green smiled. “Oh, meet Vanessa,” he said. “My sister.”

And that was a night filled with Magic for A.C. Green’s sister.

Seriously though, good for A.C. Green. He’s got every man’s dream dropped in his lap and he’s basically being bullied into an orgy, but yet he just laughs it off like it ain’t no thang. Like it must’ve just eaten Magic alive that he could make anyone of his teammates sleep with some girl who doesn’t love them on command. While he watched. But A.C. Green was in complete control at all times. Just laughing on the inside while he tells himself, “Lol, that’s why I don’t AIDS and you do.”

Bottom line is that A.C. Green was a virgin before it was cool to be a virgin. So suck on that Brittany Spears, Lolo Jones, and Tebow.

Feel free to share your thoughts to keep the conversation going.

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