In an attempt to inject some social relevance, the show does some heavy-handed virtue signaling about the exploitation of women while at the same time exploiting them.
Jeanie Buss was 17 when her father bought the Lakers, but she didn’t come to work for them until after she’d earned her business management degree from the University of Southern California and been general manager of the Los Angeles Strings, a World Team Tennis franchise. She wasn’t the naive daddy’s girl portrayed in the first few episodes. Making her a girl-child belittles her early achievements on her own. Having Claire Rothman unbuttoning blouse buttons and flouncing her hair before meeting Jerry Buss (which she denies ever happened) reduces her intelligence and competence for a cheap joke—which is probably the kind of misogyny the women had to endure in business and now have to endure from the filmmakers.
It’s a shame the way they treat Jerry West, who has openly discussed his struggle with mental health, especially depression. Instead of exploring his issues with compassion as a way to better understand the man, they turn him into a Wile E. Coyote cartoon to be laughed at. He never broke golf clubs, he didn’t throw his trophy through the window. Sure, those actions make dramatic moments, but they reek of facile exploitation of the man rather than exploration of character.
Another scene that never happened is Norm Nixon humiliating Magic at a party by outplaying him one-on-one. I could just imagine the writers gleefully rubbing their hands together in self-congratulations at coming up with that idea. The problem is that it’s another soap opera moment that shows no understanding of the dynamics of players and how they interact.
The Kareem of It All
I’ve battled leukemia, heart surgery, cancer, fire, and racism—a negative portrayal of me on a TV show has no effect on me personally. But it does affect others. For example, I never said “F—k off” to the child actor (Ross Harris) in
Airplane!, nor have I ever said that to any child. I realize this was a shorthand way of showing my perceived aloofness during that time, even though I have often spoken about my intense, almost debilitating shyness. Sometimes the attention in public became so overwhelming I shut down to protect my sanity. The filmmakers had access to that information, but truth and insight were not on their agenda. Shocking moments were.
There is a victim here, it’s just that it’s not me. My charity the
Skyhook Foundation, provides week-long retreats for inner-city school children to study science while staying in the national forest. For years, I have been visiting schools to promote STEM education. But when people see this show and come away with an impression that I’m verbally abusive to children, they are less likely to support my foundation. That means fewer kids will be able to partake in the program. So Adam McKay is giving those kids a great big “F—k off!” that lasts a lot longer than the easy laugh he got out of a dishonest joke.