‘Baby Face’ Pulling Magic’s Old Tricks

The first look you get at Nick Van Exel, you want to buy him an ice cream cone, sit him on the sergeant’s desk, put a police hat on him and tell him to wait there, his mother will be along looking for him any minute.

Which is funny. Because, what you should really be doing when you spot Van Exel on a basketball court is assign two men to cover him at all times. “Go wherever he goes on the floor,” you tell them. “Don’t let that baby face fool you!”

There have been baby-faced killers before. Jack the Ripper probably looked like an altar boy.

So does Van Exel. But you shouldn’t let those dimples, those big, soft eyes, smooth skin and shy smile fool you. Van Exel should be on the NBA’s most-wanted list. Van Exel with a basketball is like Billy the Kid with a gun. You see him coming, you yell for help.

Nick is so quick, he could go in a revolving door behind you and come out ahead. Sometimes, at the top of the key, he seems to split in two like an amoeba. The guy guarding him doesn’t know which Van Exel to cover, wants to call time and go to the bench and say, “How many Nick Van Exels are there?”

There’s only one, but he has made an enormous difference to the Lakers this year.

No one ever called him “Air” or “Magic” or “Mr. Clutch.” But he might be “St. Nick.” Or “Mr. Quick.”

That Nick the Quick wasn’t drafted until 37th should be shocking--until you remember John Unitas wasn’t drafted at all and Michael Jordan wasn’t picked until third.

The Lakers couldn’t believe their good luck finding Van Exel still in the window clear into the second round of the 1993 draft. They fell all over themselves to pick him up.

Van Exel had mixed feelings. “I had actually been hoping to go to Charlotte,” he confessed the other night in the Laker locker room. “They were a young team on the verge. I thought that’s where I belonged.”

The Lakers are glad he didn’t get the chance. The Lakers had been a rudderless team since the departure of Magic Johnson. The team had no one to go to, no one to rally around. No one was in charge on the floor.

Van Exel became the focal point. Of course, he isn’t responsible for this season’s success alone. Shrewd trades and drafts--notably Eddie Jones and Cedric Ceballos--beefed up the team. But Nick filled the big need. He was the point guard, what we used to call in this league playmaker .

“I like playmaker better,” Van Exel says impishly. “It fits more what I do.”

What he does is bring the ball upcourt for the Lakers. He’s the ignition. The Lakers are not exactly a parked car without him, but they go into a higher gear with him. The Lakers have gone from a .476 team in 1992-93 to a .617 team since they gave him the ball. He’s the quarterback on the court.

Does he see himself as taking over the role of Magic Johnson on this team? Van Exel smothers a grin. “Oh, no. I’m about a smile away from Magic,” he giggles. “Magic smiled all the time. I pick my spots.”

Magic, of course, was more than a smile. He was no worse than the second- or third-best all-time player. Magic had eight inches of height and 55 pounds on Van Exel. Magic scored 17,239 points almost by accident. What Magic was really about were the 9,921 career assists. Only one active player (John Stockton) has more than 7,000.

Van Exel leads the Lakers not only in assists (488), but in scoring (1,124 points) and free-throw shooting (209 points).

But it would be nice if he would (a) grow a beard; (b) growl and talk trash a lot; (c) smile more. It would be fair to the league, if he’s going to take over games, if he looked the part. If he looked like 17.5 points and 10 assists a night and not some kid who showed up for the halftime win-a-trip contests.

He’s armed and dangerous. He might not be Magic. But he’s Nick Van Excellent. It’s not right for him to look as if he came to work on a tricycle.