Latest news with #IndianaPacerspolos
Yahoo
3 days ago
- Sport
- Yahoo
"One day I would wake up and the pain would finally be gone, but I was wrong" - Bird on struggles with his health even decades after retirement
Long before he became the stoic legend in Indiana Pacers polos and the face of blue-collar brilliance for the Boston Celtics, Larry Bird was already feeling the toll. It started with his back. Not in the form of a single injury or moment, but a slow, grinding wear-down. By the end of the 1991–92 season, the legend from French Lick had given all he could — not just to the Celtics but to the game. Years of diving for loose balls, taking charges, and battling under the rim with spinal discomfort had caught up to "Larry Legend." Bird's back pain Even years after he left the hardwood, the pain didn't leave Larry. And day after day, there was an endless feeling of pain and discomfort. Advertisement "I kept thinking that since I was retired, one day I would wake up and the pain would finally be gone, but I was wrong," Bird said. "The doctors were hoping my nerves would calm down, and I tried all sorts of treatments and stretching exercises to make that happen, but I was still miserable." By the end of his career, Bird had played in 897 regular-season games, averaging 24.3 points, 10 rebounds, and 6.3 assists per game. He did that with a body that, toward the end, was practically broken. After 1988, "The Hick from French Lick" missed nearly 200 games due to his back alone. Yet he still played in all 24 games of the '92 Dream Team run. His back was shot — not from one fall, but from thousands. Bird's performance in the Barcelona Olympics was the curtain call. He played through visible agony, unable to even sit on the bench for long stretches. Larry had to lie on the floor just to get a break from the constant nerve pain shooting down his legs. Advertisement Bird had quietly hoped time would heal what effort had broken, but the pain wasn't going anywhere. It lingered, gnawed, and stiffened his movements. Retirement didn't offer the relief the Indiana native imagined. The nerve damage didn't respect trophies, accolades, or jersey retirements. Eventually, even the mental weight became too much. Bird, once the image of grit and stubborn endurance, made the call. The Indiana State product reached out to his physical therapist, Dan Dyrek, the same man who had guided him through his worst playing days. This time, it wasn't about getting back on the court. It was about getting out of bed without misery. Related: Isiah Thomas recalls his college recruitment: "My mom closed the briefcase and said, 'My son's not for sale" Getting surgery His therapist advised that it was time for spinal fusion surgery. The procedure wasn't minor — far from it. In Bird's case, it involved removing pieces of bone from the side of his spine and screws were inserted into his vertebrae to act as anchors, and rods were attached to stabilize Larry's back. It wasn't a guaranteed fix, but anything to stop the pain. Advertisement The real risk lay in the aftermath. By immobilizing a section of the spine, the pressure shifts to the areas above and below. These segments, not designed to bear that weight long-term, can begin to deteriorate over time. Nobody, not even top surgeons, could promise it would hold up. "That's why shortly before I had the fusion surgery, Dan told me, 'Larry, you better go out and play golf, because you may never play golf again," Bird recalled. Larry didn't argue. He'd already pushed his body through an NBA career that spanned 13 years, three MVPs, and three championships. Bird had played through bone spurs in his heels, double Achilles tendinitis, and a crushed back. This was the final shot — not to play, but to live without constant pain. He had the surgery, and recovery took nine months. Nine months of cautious steps, patient stretches, and days filled with pain management. But then the cloud began to lift. That burning, electric agony that had haunted "Larry Legend" for years started to fade. And for the first time in decades, Bird could jog, swing a tennis racket, and hit a golf ball without grimacing. Advertisement Still, he had to be careful. Scrimmaging was out of the question. If Larry pushed his back too hard, the spasms would creep in. But they were manageable. Not like before. Related: "I don't know if it's going to let me do what I want to do" – Bird on how his sore back hindered his contributions to the 1992 Dream Team
Yahoo
12-05-2025
- Sport
- Yahoo
"One day I would wake up and the pain would finally be gone, but I was wrong" - Bird on struggles with his health even decades after retirement
Long before he became the stoic legend in Indiana Pacers polos and the face of blue-collar brilliance for the Boston Celtics, Larry Bird was already feeling the toll. It started with his back. Not in the form of a single injury or moment, but a slow, grinding wear-down. By the end of the 1991–92 season, the legend from French Lick had given all he could — not just to the Celtics but to the game. Years of diving for loose balls, taking charges, and battling under the rim with spinal discomfort had caught up to "Larry Legend." Bird's back pain Even years after he left the hardwood, the pain didn't leave Larry. And day after day, there was an endless feeling of pain and discomfort. Advertisement "I kept thinking that since I was retired, one day I would wake up and the pain would finally be gone, but I was wrong," Bird said. "The doctors were hoping my nerves would calm down, and I tried all sorts of treatments and stretching exercises to make that happen, but I was still miserable." By the end of his career, Bird had played in 897 regular-season games, averaging 24.3 points, 10 rebounds, and 6.3 assists per game. He did that with a body that, toward the end, was practically broken. After 1988, "The Hick from French Lick" missed nearly 200 games due to his back alone. Yet he still played in all 24 games of the '92 Dream Team run. His back was shot — not from one fall, but from thousands. Bird's performance in the Barcelona Olympics was the curtain call. He played through visible agony, unable to even sit on the bench for long stretches. Larry had to lie on the floor just to get a break from the constant nerve pain shooting down his legs. Advertisement Bird had quietly hoped time would heal what effort had broken, but the pain wasn't going anywhere. It lingered, gnawed, and stiffened his movements. Retirement didn't offer the relief the Indiana native imagined. The nerve damage didn't respect trophies, accolades, or jersey retirements. Eventually, even the mental weight became too much. Bird, once the image of grit and stubborn endurance, made the call. The Indiana State product reached out to his physical therapist, Dan Dyrek, the same man who had guided him through his worst playing days. This time, it wasn't about getting back on the court. It was about getting out of bed without misery. Related: Isiah Thomas recalls his college recruitment: "My mom closed the briefcase and said, 'My son's not for sale" Getting surgery His therapist advised that it was time for spinal fusion surgery. The procedure wasn't minor — far from it. In Bird's case, it involved removing pieces of bone from the side of his spine and screws were inserted into his vertebrae to act as anchors, and rods were attached to stabilize Larry's back. It wasn't a guaranteed fix, but anything to stop the pain. Advertisement The real risk lay in the aftermath. By immobilizing a section of the spine, the pressure shifts to the areas above and below. These segments, not designed to bear that weight long-term, can begin to deteriorate over time. Nobody, not even top surgeons, could promise it would hold up. "That's why shortly before I had the fusion surgery, Dan told me, 'Larry, you better go out and play golf, because you may never play golf again," Bird recalled. Larry didn't argue. He'd already pushed his body through an NBA career that spanned 13 years, three MVPs, and three championships. Bird had played through bone spurs in his heels, double Achilles tendinitis, and a crushed back. This was the final shot — not to play, but to live without constant pain. He had the surgery, and recovery took nine months. Nine months of cautious steps, patient stretches, and days filled with pain management. But then the cloud began to lift. That burning, electric agony that had haunted "Larry Legend" for years started to fade. And for the first time in decades, Bird could jog, swing a tennis racket, and hit a golf ball without grimacing. Advertisement Still, he had to be careful. Scrimmaging was out of the question. If Larry pushed his back too hard, the spasms would creep in. But they were manageable. Not like before. Related: "I don't know if it's going to let me do what I want to do" – Bird on how his sore back hindered his contributions to the 1992 Dream Team
