As He Re-Coops Game, His Timing Couldn’t Be Better for Lakers

The TV man pointed his microphone at Michael Cooper, asked a question, got an answer and started to move away to another Laker.

“That’s it ?” Cooper asked incredulously. “Gimme that.”

He snatched the microphone from the startled TV man’s hand, moved closer to the camera lens and went on a verbal rampage, praising teammates, coaches, fans, assorted clubhouse visitors and even reporters.

It was an impressive demonstration of fast hands, quick tongue and aggressive nature, the three things that have made Cooper a scourge of the National Basketball Assn. for 10 seasons.

Coop’s scourge rating took a significant dip last season, however, when he injured his left ankle, lost his defensive player of the year title to Michael Jordan and limped through an embarrassing playoffs, shooting .205 (nine for 44) in the NBA finals against Detroit.

The once-feared three-point shooter had, seemingly overnight, become Dr. Brick, King of Clang, Captain Airball. It was grim. Never mind that Cooper was trying to shoot off one ankle. Two-oh-five!

In baseball, you hit .205 and the arbitrator gives you a $1.3-million raise. In basketball, you hit .205 and you start wondering if the Italian League can use an over-the-hill, 6-foot-6, former defensive demon, Coop-a-loopist and all-around team spark plug.

Maybe you wonder how long the team will carry you out of sentiment, how long before the guys start hoping you’ll get lost with the luggage, how long before you can shake off all the accumulated aches and pains and start playing with the old fire and flair.

At Seattle on Jan. 3, Cooper played 3 minutes in the first half and never got off the bench in the second half. Quietly, Cooper seethed, angry at Pat Riley for the benching and embarrassed at his own play.

Kareem Abdul-Jabbar’s slump was drawing national attention, but Cooper’s slump was an item high on everyone’s “What’s wrong with the Lakers?” list.

Then things happened. Byron Scott got sick, then Magic Johnson got hurt, and Cooper was thrust into the starting lineup. Conveniently, his injuries began to heal and over the last six weeks he has begun to resemble the old Cooper.

Sunday, playing point guard for still-recuperating Magic, Cooper had 13 assists, the most he has had in a game in the last three seasons, and zero turnovers in 34 minutes. Lakers 119, Celtics 110.

“Now that’s a line I can live with,” Cooper said, scanning his numbers on the game’s stat sheet. He had 11 points, a three-point shot, four rebounds.

Cooper’s shot is returning, and so is the patented Cooper leer, something he picked up from all those “Friday the 13th” and “Nightmare on Elm Street” type movies he loves to watch.

He is starting to get on people’s nerves. People on the other team. Last Tuesday, during a brief altercation, Cooper grabbed Detroit center Bill Laimbeer by the throat and squeezed. Not exactly league-sanctioned hand-checking, but something Cooper felt was needed at the time to convince the Piston enforcer to play with a little more finesse.

That was always Cooper’s forte, lending presence and atmosphere to a game.

“When I go out and look in (Celtic forward) Reggie Lewis’ eyes,” Cooper said, “he had a sense, well, I hope I was passing the message that it would be a long day for him.”

Lewis got 25, but not all off Cooper. On one play in the first half, Cooper caught Celtic rookie Brian Shaw from behind on a breakaway layup, ignored Shaw’s head fake, and swatted away Shaw’s shot, just as he used to do.

“I’m finally healed,” Cooper said. “All the nagging injuries have cleared up, I’m finally feeling like myself. I’m getting through picks now.”

He is also getting more playing time, having started the last 10 games, for Scott and more recently for Johnson. Cooper indicated that the increased court time has contributed greatly to his improved performance.

Magic Johnson, whose locker is next to Cooper’s in the Forum dressing room, overheard Cooper and joined the conversation.

“Well, then maybe I’ll stay out a little longer, get him some playing time,” Johnson said, ominously. “Maybe I’ll stay out another month. Two months.”

Easy, Magic, easy. Cooper doesn’t want all your time. He just doesn’t want any more of those three-minute games.

Cooper is 32, and he has bulked up to 176 pounds, way over his rookie weight of 175. But he has made the league’s all-defensive team eight consecutive years (five times on the first team), and he can still bug the hell out of the other team.

Mostly Cooper gives you what is known as the intangibles. For instance, with his left ankle, which never mended completely, “I can tell you when it’s going to be a cold day, when it’s going to rain.”

Not for long. For Cooper the meteorologist, the reign of pain is mainly on the wane.