Lake Show

The engineer, of course, is Harris, the Phil Donahue look-alike whose bland image has made its way into his nickname: Dull. He is known as a coach's coach but is actually a player's guy, adapting styles and plans to his athletes' abilities and demands. "I haven't imposed a system on the Lakers," he says. "Rather, I've gone with them on a journey to find it."

The system is not Showtime, by any means. Instead, it's a blend of half-court and full-court basketball that places a premium on defense—steals (through Sunday, Los Angeles ranked third in the league, with 13.4 per game) and blocked shots (second, 7.53). And then the Lakers run. "We call it the Lake Show," says Jones. The work on defense done, and it must be done for these Lakers to have a chance, Van Exel will team with Jones on an alley-oop. There is still fun to be had.

And fun must be had if L.A. hopes to become the glamour team it was in the 1980s, when the Lakers put an average of about 17,000 in the seats—4,000 more than of late. West and owner Jerry Buss know that in this Los Angeles it's not enough to win. "The game has to be played with flair," says West. Which is why he took a chance on Van Exel, a 6'1" guard out of the University of Cincinnati whose respect for authority became suspect, rightly or wrongly, when he missed appointments with a team in the days before the '93 NBA draft. Van Exel, who was expected to be a first-rounder, slipped into the second round, but he quickly turned his reputation around by averaging 13.6 points and 5.8 assists as a rookie. This season, at week's end, he was averaging 17.1 points and 8.2 assists, and showing some flair in the process. "Oh, he has flair," agrees West.

He's got flair up the wazoo. So much flair that...well, the Lakers hardly know what to do with him. On Jan. 9, at half-time of a 129-83 debacle against the Trail Blazers in Portland, Harris took on his reputation for dullness and overturned a table of drinks. Forget all the excuses that were provided later; what happened next was this: Van Exel refused to take the floor in the second half. He Pippened it.

Elsewhere this might have become a team malignancy, but the Lakers are too smart and too discreet to let that kind of sickness spread. Van Exel wouldn't comment, but it was publicly explained away as "a failure to communicate." However, afterward young Van Exel was subjected to much communication—"Man," he says wearily, "the phone never stopped ringing: the general manager, the vice president, everybody." In the next game, a 118-108 loss to Phoenix on Jan. 11 at the Forum, he scored 35 points while converting 7 of 11 three-pointers. "I wasn't worried," says Ceballos. "It's like you take a kid's toy from him: He cries, but the next day he's forgotten all about it. In that way, it's good to be young."

Of course, sometimes it's bad to be young. The Lakers are the best team in the league whose average loss is by almost 20 points. "When we're bad," says Ceballos, "we're very bad." What's more, they can be great and awful in the same game. After falling behind by 20 to Phoenix last week, Los Angeles evened the game with a 20-0 run before finally losing.

Even by their own admission, the Lakers are one player away from greatness. "A tough rebounder," says veteran point guard Sedale Threatt dreamily. "A Charles Oakley, a Dennis Rodman." But they could be a playoff team, and they most definitely are an exciting team. In Los Angeles, in these times of flood and fire, that's miracle enough.