Thursday, August 4, 2022

Showtime

     The book telling the complete story of the Warriors dynasty can't be written just yet. (No ending.) Until that day comes, I study NBA history before Golden State's rise, starting with one of the two teams that has won more championships, a lot more, the Lakers, which is the subject of Jeff Pearlman's Showtime: Magic, Kareem, Riley, and the Los Angeles Lakers Dynasty of the 1980s (2014). Of all the books I've read this year, it easily ranks dead last in fluency:


"And yet, egos are egos, and NBA stars rarely lack them."

"Brown, Rambis's close friend and classmate from Santa Clara University, was not kidding. This wasn't a joke, a gag, a prank, an effort to embarrass an old chum."

"The pass was both lazy and awful, and Boston's center stepped in for the steal."

"For most of the decade, the Rockets had played Joe Perry to the Lakers' Steven Tyler."

"[Michael Cooper] obsessed over [Larry] Bird's moves, over his thinking, over his patterns and tendencies. If a Celtic game was televised, Cooper watched, his eyes glued to number 33. He looked toward nights against Boston as one would a wedding."

"[Kareem Abdul-Jabbar] was the league's all-time scorer, and perhaps the nation's most recognizable figure. Yet trying to understand his moods and quirks and oddities was as simple as dressing a porcupine in a t-shirt."

"Riley's motivational speeches - delivered in high-pitched, desperate tones - fell upon tin ears."


Pearlman makes some curious structural decisions, such as titling a chapter "The Unlikely Head Coach" and spending about half of it giving background on a player. And that player who doesn't have his own origin chapter is a notable named Earvin "Magic" Johnson. I'm looking for a writer that can bring the reader into the game but his on-court scenes don't measure up. Now, with all that out of the way, I didn't put the book down even during my long walks to and from work. Passable writing on rich material.

My first discovery is a book on its own: the tragic story of Jack McKinney, an exceptional basketball strategist who pioneered the famous Lakers offensive system that would prove to be so lethal and crowd-pleasing. Pearlman covers his career, up to when he's named head coach of a team led by Kareem Abdul-Jabbar and a promising rookie, Magic Johnson. He seems to have the perfect combination of personality and knowledge to succeed. But, early in the season, he gets into a freak bicycle accident and suffers severe head trauma. His assistant steps in temporarily, then permanently. Employing his playbook, the Lakers would go on to win the championship that very season. And McKinney would never return and never be the same (he died in 2018). Behind the glitz, a ghost. By starting off with Coach McKinney, Pearlman ensures that he isn't a footnote in Showtime.

That's one of his admirable structural and narrative decisions. And though he hits a bum note tonewise from time to time, for the most part he handles every kind of story that presents itself well. There are the details and anecdotes: A player who regularly raids the team supply closet for whatever he can find, whether he has any use for it or not. A player who has a reputation for doing things like packing two left shoes. A player who, after losing in the Finals, goes to the opposing team's locker room and shakes everyone's hand, congratulating even the bench players who got no playing time by name. A general manager who hates speaking engagements, accepts one, and gives the money to the underling who suggested it. A player whose last name is "Brickowski." A journalist whose last name is "Bonk." There are types: The super stars. The stars. The goons. The crafty vets. The firstround draft picks that fall far short of expectations. The unheralded players fighting to hold on to a spot who develop into good players who develop into essential parts of the lineup. And he makes an effort to balance his depictions, despite how some ultimately come out by book's end. No amount of effort can save certain people from the numerous irrefutable, distasteful facts of their own behavior. A lesson underscored by the book: Winning does not actually heal all, and reaching the highest pinnacle in your art or field will not automatically grant you forgiveness and love. 

("One must die well loved - if one can.")

Pearlman doesn't examine the Xs and Os of the sport. To those who want to learn more about balling but don't know what I mean by "Xs and Os": this book is for you. But Pearlman does explore awkward or unpleasant areas the people he interviews, and perhaps certain fans, may not care to. Example: One of the unanticipated, undersung benefits of keeping up with today's NBA basketball for me is inspiration to stay fit. The chunky man dunks on no one (not on the basketball court, anyway). Conditioning to compete with the best of the best in the world is demanding enough as it is. Throwing hard drugs into the mix would seem unthinkable but the amount of use in the league back then is significant enough to warrant probing. Some former players deny everything. Some, as part of The Forum Club/party lifestyle, admit to dabbling occasionally.... And one former Lakers player and recovering addict, Spencer Haywood, claims the vast majority of the league was using cocaine. Whatever the case, it comes up again and again. Haywood was dropped from the team when he became unable to get through a practice without nodding off and nearly carried out a plan to murder his coach before his mom, suspicious of the change in his voice over the phone, uncovered his secret and talked him out of it. The Celtics selected a rookie, Len Bias, who died of an overdose before he got to play for them. Another example: Risky sex and the role of women.

The book goes deepest showing how a championship basketball organization is constructed and manages to remain at or near the top for more than a decade. An offense based largely around one player, even if he's a future hall-of-famer with a practically unguardable shot, doesn't work. The Lakers get another future hall-of-famer and the show begins. But winning fosters egos that distract and cause tension. And the coaching can falter. And players clash with other players and staff. And players don't fit with each other. And draft picks go nowhere. And regrettable trades are made. And age sets in. And bodies break down. And you're hit with bad luck. Showtime is about what every contending team is up against, every season. And it's about how a team can get through all of it, season after season.