It's not enough to just win a championship; what has revolutionized the way the NBA plays is the way the Lakers play, and how that style fits into what the Lakers ultimately want to deliver.
It's really a testament to the Lakers' ridiculous success, and anyone born around 50 years ago can only imagine the time before this team became one of the NBA's most important super teams. If there were people outside of that who couldn't imagine an era like this, they would see that era on TV themselves when sunday came. HBO's "Moment of Victory: The Rise of the Lakers Dynasty" is a fitting origin story, not about the Lakers (which was founded in Minneapolis in 1947), but about the Los Angeles Lakers, a team that was mentally and in a different way of playing, and that normal operation began in the team's whirlwind 1979-80 season.
In 1979, Jack Kent Cook sold the Lakers to Jerry Bass, which may be the clearest back-and-forth moment in sports. The team has won only one championship in nearly 20 years in Los Angeles; after the team's change of ownership, it won five championships in the next nine championship battles, and in 43 years, it has won nearly twice as many championships as other NBA teams. But simply winning is not enough; What really makes the league better is the way the Lakers play and how that style fits into the effect That Bath ultimately wants to have. If it weren't for the consciously cultivated idea of what it means to be a Lakers player, the Lakers wouldn't have attracted Kobe Bryant, Shaquille O'Neal, or LeBron James. And that kind of thinking—fame, prestige, indescribable coolness—wouldn't exist without showtime.
Before the Lakers selected Magic Johnson, basketball teams had used fast-break tactics for decades, but was that really the case? From start to finish, the magic's highlights are passes that the basketball world has never seen before, and a lot of passes we haven't seen since. No player is more able to reach his potential on the pitch than he does, or replicates the sheer moment of excitement between the magic man getting the ball and his decision to deal with it. HBO's adaptation of Showtime-era stories (the story of victory moments, which is best known for Lakers) is trying to recreate the points that professional basketball players fail to achieve. Opening John C.R. Reilly's collar resembles the late Dr. Bass, who, as the Los Angeles Times described him in 1976, was a "billiards afictor, a scientist, a playboy, a millionaire." Even with the similar-looking Quincy Asaiah playing the magician, it's still a bit complicated to capture the energy that the Hall of Fame point guard brings to a free-flowing game and what it's like to watch the Lakers play.
There was a fascinating vibrancy from the start. Through a lucky trade and a history-changing coin toss (there were a lot of fateful coincidences that made the Showtime Lakers, including a shocking murder, a tragic accident, and a player-led revolt that allowed Pat Riley to climb from broadcaster to head coaching), the Lakers selected Johnson in 1979 and teamed him up with Karim Abdul-Jabbar, who was already a legendary center. It is their differences that make them the perfect partner. Karim is an unstoppable half-time scorer who stands up whenever an opponent tries to hold the Magician back; meanwhile, the Magician is such a tough and charismatic organizer that he inspires Karim to run with him for easier scoring.
Their speed makes the magician's figure a weapon in the defender position, and his stature accelerates their speed. His control over the dribble was shocking. To his credit, Johnson always seems to understand that you can only do incredible things while holding the ball if you know how to protect it. "I can't believe God created a 6'9" player who can control the ball like this." Kansas City Kings general manager Joe Axelson said of Johnson's rookie season. Of course, Abdul-Jabbar has his own set apart: a massive, 7-foot-2-inch giant who will become one of the most elegant athletes in the history of sport.
It's not just about skyhook, though this one action, which has become synonymous with Jabbar, is a reason. It is unstoppable. It is unique. It's a tool for the most prolific scoring champion in NBA history, and he's using it again and again, even though all defenders know what he's going to do. You can try to squeeze him out of the shot area where he's best at, or interfere with his shot timing, but by the time the magician came to Los Angeles, Karim had mastered the art of the move, and he could find a way to step and turn his shoulders whenever he needed to. Just as important: nimble Abdul-Jabbar knows how to move up and down in the lows to allow his teammates to thrive.
Abdul-Abdul-Abdul-Abdul-Jabbar and the Magician created space for James Worthy and Jamal Wilkes to attack from the flanks, putting substitute Bob McAdoo to work. They used Byron Scott as a free, open jumper to punish teams that adopted pack-and-bag tactics. They found ways to reward Michael Cooper for his tireless defense and Mitch Kupcek's dirty work with Kurt Lambis. As an extension of his dominance and the inevitable attention he attracts attention, it's a matter of course for Abdul-Jabbar to arrange his teammates. Magicians use that attention to launch offense — that kind of close-range assist can only be delivered when you know what your opponent is watching and, more importantly, what they're not watching.
Even if the Magic changed the Lakers' entire offensive approach, it was Abdul-Abdul-Abdul-Jabbar who earned MVP honors in their first season together and led the team to score most of the time. Abdul-Jabbar is the most honorable player in the history of sport, however, even his accomplishments (6 championships, a record 6 MVPs, and 19 All-Stars from the start of his rookie season) may not fully reflect how good his career has been. By today's standards, it seems incomprehensible that a player of his size could play 95 percent of the team's games in the 20-year regular season. Huge amount of work? No problem. Knee pain? Bandage them up. Jabbar jeans competing and winning at the highest level of competition looks as easy as arm extension and wrist flicking.
Johnson knows these better, which is why he has publicly shown respect for his veteran teammates from the start. "I want him to know that I don't want to enter his territory; He's that guy," Johnson said. When Abdul-Jabbar wants to attack in the low post, Showtime's approach is suspended. When the reporter asked the magician about himself, he spoke of Karim. They weren't the quickest to become friends, nor were they the best friends, but the two Lakers stars developed and developed on their respective basketball paths, forming an unprecedented partnership. Abdul-Jabbar seems to want to play basketball and not be disturbed. At the same time, the magician could be the face of Showtime — a personal charismatic offensive to showcase Bass's imagined Lakers vision.
"I really worked hard to create an image of a Laker, a unique identity," Buzz said in 1986. "I think we've succeeded. I mean, the Lakers are simply Hollywood. For the sake of his credibility (and incredible profits), Bath saw the potential to turn the Lakers' game into a big event and tap into los Angeles' most renewable resources (the need to watch the game and the need to be seen). Players would go upstairs to the Forum Club after the game to mingle with actors, musicians and celebrities, making the game itself the opening act. In that world— the world of victory moments— Magic Johnson is at the center of the camera. Karim simply didn't want to get it in any way.