When the Game Was Ours - Larry Bird [146]
Yet Lynch proved to be as inconsistent as the Lakers team. Two nights after looking like an All-Star, Lynch managed just 4 points against the lowly expansion Minnesota Timberwolves, and the Lakers barely eked out a 91–89 win.
"George," Magic said to him, "you are not a good outside shooter, but in games you regularly take that shot. Why don't you come early before the next practice and we'll spend some time on shooting?"
"Sure," Lynch shrugged.
The next day Magic arrived an hour and a half ahead of time. Again, he was alone in the gym. When Lynch showed up with just three minutes to spare, Johnson waved him over.
"If you take a shot tomorrow and don't hit it, I'm yanking you out of the game," he said.
Magic turned his attention to guard Nick Van Exel, who Johnson believed would thrive in an up-tempo system. When the Lakers played Seattle on March 31, point guard Gary Payton (nicknamed "the Glove" because of his superior defense) hawked Van Exel from end line to end line. Payton disrupted his concentration and made it difficult for him to get into his offensive sets. Van Exel kept glancing over to Johnson on the sidelines for instructions.
"Don't look at me!" Magic shouted. "You call the play. You've got to get into the flow of the game."
After the 95–92 loss, Johnson offered to spend some time with Van Exel on how to see the floor and establish tempo.
"Come early before practice tomorrow and we'll do some drills," Magic said.
"I can't," Van Exel replied. "I've got an appointment."
"Another time then," Magic said.
Johnson eventually abandoned his waiting game. Van Exel never came early, and neither did Lynch. Only Rambis, Johnson's former teammate who had returned as a seldom-used bench player with the Lakers, engaged in any extra court work in advance of the scheduled practice.
On April 6, Johnson's old friend Worthy reached back into his All-Star archives and gave Magic 31 vintage points off the bench, and the Lakers came back from a 12-point deficit to edge Sacramento in overtime. Although Magic couldn't have known it, that victory, his fifth in six games, would be his last.
"Fellas, we've got to get back to fundamentals," Magic told his team after the narrow win. "You've got to pass the ball."
He explained to them that Showtime was successful because of the unselfish nature of the team. He lectured them on the value of a player like Michael Cooper, whose career average was 8.9 points a game but whose defensive commitment was a critical part of the team's success.
"You think the Celtics didn't fear Michael Cooper?" he said. "Larry Bird said he was the toughest guy he ever faced, that Coop belongs in the Hall of Fame. It's not all about getting your shots. There's so much more to the game than that."
Their reaction was muted, save a yawn from Elden Campbell. It wasn't as though Cooper was an unknown name from the past. He was an assistant coach, working with the Lakers every day. On the way out to the floor, one of the players murmured, "Who gives a shit about Showtime?"
The 1993–94 Los Angeles Lakers lost their final ten consecutive games. In a span of two and a half weeks, Magic's career coaching mark went from 5–1 to 5–11.
Before the team's last practice of the year, Magic grabbed Ram-bis, Worthy, and assistant coaches Larry Drew and Cooper and told them to start stretching. He laced up his sneakers and called in his team.
"I'm going to prove a point today," Magic said. "I'm going to prove to you that you don't know how to play this game. I'm going to take all these old guys, and we're going to give you a whooping."
The "old guys" won the first game 15–11. They won the second 15–8. By the third game, the young Lakers were so busy cussing at one another that Magic stopped keeping score.
In his final game as coach, Magic started Rambis, Worthy, 38-year-old center James Edwards, Van Exel, and journeyman guard Tony Smith.
"These are the guys who are willing to play the right way," he said when explaining