Winning Time recap: Trade rumors, power grabs, and clashing egos

Winning Time’s second episode of season two, “The Magic Is Back,” continues to explore that whole “teams vs. stars” thing as Magic Johnson returns to the court for the 1981 season following a knee injury. Last week, we saw how, when he was hurt and not out there racking up points and smiling a lot, Magic had been left utterly alone (at least in the world of this show—he definitely had the support of doctors and physical therapists, if not the support of his team, IRL). This week, we look at what the return of their star does to shift the Lakers’ dynamic and how allegiances are formed, tested, and broken within this structure. We also look, a little bit, at Jerry Buss’ love life/quest for a new mommy figure and Jeanie’s tennis team stuff. It’s that whole teams are families/families are teams theme this show has set up: Both can be messy and unreliable with an untenable embedded power structure. Both can also be uplifting and affirming and involve forced hugs. How do we keep either alive? That is the question (sort of a Shakespearean one, as you’ll see).

The central power clash in this episode may seem to be between Magic and fellow point guard Norm Nixon, the sort of older player on the Lakers who had stepped up during Magic’s absence and now fears that the big guy might put him right back on the bench. And yes, this is a significant pairing here, but Paul Westhead and Pat Riley seem to be the two with the most tension. The two coaches (head and assistant, respectively) don’t seem to agree on this whole “System” approach Westhead has introduced—at least not with Magic back. As Riley and Westhead are having some coach talk in Westhead’s office, Jerry West comes in all giddy with news of a prospect he has scouted: “David Fucking Thompson.” Those three words appear on screen over black and white footage of the man hooping it up as West says his name aloud. Riley and West are stoked. They think it could be quite cool to have a solid shooting guard out there to complement Magic. Westhead doesn’t like it. He is very annoyed that Nixon, who had been “lights out” in his time as starting point guard, would be sacrificed in a trade for Thompson; and that this could leave them without a point guard if Magic really couldn’t play with that knee.

Convinced that Westhead is being a little too rigid in his concept for what the team should look like, and his dogged adherence to “The System” he introduced, Riley begins training Magic solo on the side. And from the moment West and Riley come to Westhead in his office, united in their praise for the Thompson/Nixon trade, he becomes very rigid indeed. He digs his heels in against it, claiming a player like Thompson won’t answer to a coach, only to “his hubris.” But it’s easy to read beneath that: He fears his own irrelevance with Riley and West, each former players, on staff, primed to challenge his ideas as head coach—and with Magic back in the fold, another player who seems more “hubris” inclined. It doesn’t help that Westhead’s approach to Magic when he comes back is to throw a Latin word at him—“suave,” which he says means “easy”—and tell him to just be that. It’s also easy to read beneath this: He wants him to go easy on his knee, yes, but Westhead also wants him to be easy to deal with, doesn’t he?

As for the Busses, Jerry and Jeanie are both a bit dissatisfied: For him it’s his love life; for her, it’s her tennis team thing. Jeanie’s story doesn’t take up much space, of course. (Female characters on this show tend not to.) But it becomes apparent as she pops Rolaids and raises reasonable concerns with both her brother and her star player (his girlfriend), only to be brushed off like a dumb ol’ mom, that she’s not living her best life. The elder Buss, meanwhile, is chasing a dream: a dream he had of running on the beach, carefree, with the woman whose photo in his album drew extra special attention when he was flipping around in that thing: Honey. He shows up at her work at a daycare, which is weird, and sweet-talks her into dinner, which goes fine. At a party they have to honor his mom (played by Sally Field, remember?), we see he’s also missing her like crazy. He’s feeling a void that only a blond-ish mama type can fill, and once they have their little night together, his focus has fully shifted back to another photo: the one of him with Magic, newly signed to his team.

Meanwhile, there’s a little mustachioed reporter running around telling tales out of school (much like Othello’s Iago) getting Nixon to admit his true feelings about Magic, and ratting out Riley’s bonding sessions with their premiere point guard behind Westhead’s back, straight to the mulleted man himself. He also tells Westhead about Jack McKinney, Westhead’s predecessor, being awarded Coach of the Year instead of him (a real blow to the hubris). What a little schemer! Everyone is so mad because of him. Westhead can use Latin words and quote poetry all he wants, but he’s not bringing the Bard to this show this time: It’s this mustache guy all the way.

Now is this episode funny? Not especially. It’s pretty thematically interesting, but it can be a little tiresome to just watch egos flying all around. There is a cool device they employ towards the end of the episode, where they use television fuzz and graphic scorecards to move the plot along to different points of the 1981 Finals as the narrative demands. But it does make the end of it feel a little rushed. They fly through the ’81 season (spoiler: the Lakers lose this time—it’s hubris-related, of course, an airball from Magic). Ultimately, it’s fine. I think we’re all ready to move past this particular Westhead/Riley conflict. It’s not the most fun or interesting thing to watch. It’s just okay.

We end with “I Heard It Through The Grapevine,” which I had thought to be a little on the nose for a needle drop until I realized that some viewers (me) needed a little nudge from the tune to fully catch all the Shakespearean stuff in this episode. Trade rumors. Power grabs. “He said she said bullshit.” From the looks of things, this season is all about that.

Stray observations

• When West walks into Westhead’s office to tell the coaches about David Fucking Thompson, he says “put down your beers and lend me your ears.” Ah! A nice little Shakespeare reference for our lit guy Westhead, while tossing in “beer” for the cool guys!
• When Buss tells Claire Rothman about his Honey dream, she dismisses it by saying she dreamed she was an astronaut one night, as if to say “how implausible.” But don’t sell yourself short, Claire! Maybe you have the heart and spirit of an astronaut! (Also, there’s historical context for their choice.)
• When mustache-reporter corners Nixon for his controversial Magic quote, Nixon is wearing the coolest purple suit and dress shirt, and I just love it.
• I don’t like red licorice that much, but the way Molly Gordon’s character eats it with attitude while giving Jeanie Buss some real talk makes me want to eat red licorice every time I give someone life advice. Waving around red licorice conveys authority to me now.
• The tone of this portrayal of West continues to be “that guy yells.”
• Famed Lakers broadcaster Chick Hearn has a slightly bigger role in this episode, getting sloppy drunk on their plane and even breaking the fourth wall as he’s reporting on a Finals game. Once, in real life, when my dad’s group had finished singing the National Anthem at a Lakers game, Hearn said of the guys, “The All Purpose National Anthem Band: very unusual, very different… and very good!” So that was nice…I think.