Star Power Puts ‘Nique Above ‘Ning

I went to a Clipper game the other night. Not to see the Clippers. I’ve seen them. To see Dominique Wilkins.

The distinction is important. The Clippers only recently got Dominique Wilkins. They got him in trade for Danny Manning, their longtime forward.

I never went to a Clipper game to see Danny Manning. I went to see the Clippers.

What we have here is your basic sports dichotomy, the difference between a star and a non-star.

You have to understand, Manning is not a star. He’s a very good player, one of the best. The Atlanta Hawks are ecstatic. They feel they made a very good deal. Danny Manning is six years younger than Dominique Wilkins.

That’s not the point. Manning will help you win games. But he won’t fill seats. Make headlines.

He’s not what L.A. is looking for.

We know all about stars here. This is where the word was invented.

You know the old-time film moguls knew all about stardom. Nobody could really explain stardom, but they knew it when they found it. We would have great actors, thespians who would awe their fellow players. But the public yawned.

On the other hand, there were some others who had none of these attributes. But when they got in the film emulsion, something happened. What happened was what Hollywood called “star quality.” There was no accounting for it. But there was no mistaking it.

It often had nothing to do with good looks. It frequently eluded great beauties. On the male side, for every Paul Newman, there was a Humphrey Bogart. Dustin Hoffman. It had to do with personality. Cagney was a star. Clark Gable was a star. They brought excitement to the screen. You couldn’t teach it, write it or direct it. They either had it or they didn’t.

It’s the same in the world of sport. Manning is a super player. Steady. Dependable. Probably good to his mother. On time for practice. No problem.

But just a member of the cast. He’ll come in on cue, read the right lines, play the right shot. Be there for you. Our rock.

Ho hum.

Wilkins is 34, might have peaked. But he’s already left his mark. Only the great ones get a public nickname, and he’s ‘Nique. No one ever called Manning ‘Ning, but ‘Nique conveys excitement. Cagney going to the electric chair, Bogey breaking out of the big house.

Manning never had a nickname, only a number. ‘Nique has been called “the Human Highlight Film.” He played basketball the way John Wayne fought range wars. There was a certain recklessness to it. Like Ruth striking out, even his misses had an element of thrill to them.

That’s what L.A. really wants. Gable. Not some Shakespeare-spouter. We like stars. We’re used to Elgin Baylor, Jerry West, Magic Johnson, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, Wilt Chamberlain, O.J., Mike Garrett, Sandy Koufax, Don Drysdale, Maury Wills, Fernando, Waterfield, Crazy Legs. We don’t want the adequate. Manning plays the best friend, if we’re casting. He doesn’t get the girl.

Of course, it’s nice if you win. Even Michael Jordan had to do that, finally.

But, for the present, you would have to say the Clippers did the right thing. Oh, the “experts” will probably argue they should have taken a chance with some young talent with potential. Louis B. Mayer could have told them what potential is. Potential is what closes out of town.

The Clippers could have gotten a Danny Manning for Danny Manning. Why? They already had one.

Hollywood will let us know. If Wilkins has it left, look for him to start doing Buick commercials, cameo appearances in movies, mall appearances. If Billy Crystal suddenly isn’t the only mega-star courtside, you’ll know ‘Nique has arrived.

I went down to the locker room to see how this culture shock is affecting L.A.’s first super-player since Magic left. After all, ‘Nique had spent his whole career in Atlanta. He could have reacted to this quasi-banishment by going into an all-court sulk, going through the motions, awaiting another move to a contender.

‘Nique isn’t. He’s throwing up 30 points a night, playing like a guy bucking for sergeant, playing both ends of the court with verve and enthusiasm, pulling the Clippers along in his wake. You would think he was a rookie.

Interviewing Wilkins is like covering him on the fast break. Like interviewing a man through the window of a moving bus. He answers, then excuses himself to dash across the room to get a tape cutter. Then he takes another question, excuses himself in mid-sentence to run into the shower. He seems to be listening to three conversations at once and gets into all of them--two of them in a far corner of the room and another one in the next cubicle. He is polite, friendly, but you know what the guy guarding him in the post must feel like--”Hey! Anybody here see ‘Nique? I was guarding him here just a minute ago!”

If ever a sport cried out for a superstar in this town, it’s basketball, 1994. Is Wilkins too old? Well, his team made up a 20-point deficit the other night to win, 108-105, over Utah, no less. The old Clippers had trouble enough winning even when they were leading by 20.

Look at it this way: The old Clippers used to advertise about visiting stars. They didn’t have any of their own. “Come see the Clippers against Patrick Ewing!” “Be sure to be there when Barkley and the Suns come to the Sports Arena!” “Catch Air Jordan Sunday!”

Now, their ads say, “Don’t miss ‘Nique against the visiting Knicks!”

That right there makes L.A. comfortable. We can relate to that. We’re the ones supposed to have the stars. What is this, an Italian movie? This is Hollywood, babe, not some dumb documentary! As Gloria Swanson said in the original “Sunset Boulevard”: “We had faces in my day!”