Sad to be losing 'Winning Time.'

Larry Bird, Red Auerbach, Magic Johnson and Dr. Jerry Buss in "Winning Time."

Yes, I know it was basically pro-Los Angeles Lakers propaganda.

Yes, I know it was highly dramatized and that it played fast and loose with the truth.

Yes, I know that it was intended as entertainment, and not as a documentary.

I still very much enjoyed "Winning Time: The Rise of the Lakers Dynasty" on HBO. And I'm sad that the network I first paid to see as Home Box Office in 1976 has decided to cancel it with so much of the story untold.

HBO has not been kind to my favorite shows of late. Most recently, they decided not to renew the grittier take on "Perry Mason" that was a tour de force for Welsh actor Matthew Rhys (late of "The Americans") in the role that Raymond Burr originated on the late-1950s CBS show of the same name. And now, they've blown up "Winning Time," based on the book by former sportswriter Jeff Pearlman about the emergence of the franchise under the frenetic "Showtime" ownership of Dr. Jerry Buss.

The show got two seasons, but it may have gotten off on the wrong foot right off the bat by changing the name from that of the book -- after all, "Showtime" is the name of a competing, CBS-owned premium cable network. And in many ways, the cable Showtime has been kicking HBO's ass with quality programs for a while now, so the Warner Bros./Discovery empire was not about to give CBS free publicity. 

Kind of like the Lakers and the Celtics. But I digress.

The fictional LA Lakers of 1984

"Winning Time" opened on March 6, 2022, with Earvin "Magic" Johnson (played admirably and endearingly by newcomer Quincy Isaiah) learning for the first time of his HIV diagnosis inside a hospital examination room. That was certainly enough to pull me in from the start -- but little did I know that we'd never revisit that moment despite its importance to the entire Lakers saga because the series would end abruptly on Sunday night. As I said in a social media post, that left an extinction-level crater in the plot for all time.

As the series unfolded, we were introduced to quite a few compelling, if exaggerated, characters -- John C. Reilly (whose gifts as a likeable character actor keep him working steadily) as the flamboyant team owner whose intricate comb-over must have been Donald Trump's inspiration; Jason Segal as the out-of-his-element coach Paul Westhead; Adrien Brody in a steadily more appealing portrayal of player-turned-announcer-turned-coach Pat Riley; Jason Clarke as a foul-mouthed and wound-too-tight Jerry West; DeVaughn Nixon (Laker guard Norm Nixon's son) as his father; Solomon Hughes as the gruff, aging Kareem Abdul-Jabbar; Sean Patrick Small as a surprisingly believable Larry Bird; Michael Chiklis as Red Auerbach (a great villain for this tale if ever there was one); and Hadley Robinson as Jeanie Buss, the owner's daughter, who was starting to emerge as the heir apparent to the Laker legacy before the premature demise of the series ended the storyline.

Jason Clarke as the fictionalized Jerry West.

Almost immediately upon the show's debut, the critics started chirping with their all-too-pious nitpicks over the accuracy of the subject matter. At the top of that list was the portrayal of Jerry West, whose lawyers demanded apologies and retractions regarding the over-the-top portrayal by Clarke as the ex-Laker star and eventual general manager. I've seen more than my share of sportswriters that covered the Lakers -- even the great Bob Ryan, whose coverage of the Celtics of that era is the stuff of legend -- offering testimony that the "real" Jerry West was not the cartoon figure he was portrayed as in "Winning Time."

Well, I'm sure that's so. But once I got the feel of this show, I didn't much care. I wasn't looking for a Ken Burns documentary. I was looking for something to make me laugh and keep me watching -- and listening to the Jerry West character unleashing megaton-level tirades against coaches, players and even Dr. Buss kept me coming back.

Besides, seeing that incorporated into this long, lingering wet kiss to the Lakers of the early 1980s helped me to forget the indignities heaped upon Boston and the Celtics in the name of dramatic license.

Of course, the show portrayed the Celtics and Auerbach as entitled and condescending. Given that the franchise absolutely dominated the NBA in the years before anyone really cared about pro basketball, perhaps it was deserved. It certainly served the narrative.

Yes, I quibbled with the portrayal of Boston basketball fans and all Bostonians in general as racist assholes. That's just too familiar and too easy a stereotype that screenwriters use to set the scene of anything involving Boston. We're either all hoodlums from Charlestown or the bastard sons of Whitey Bulger, and we all speak with the flattest R's and all extend the word "there" to two or three syllables, and I'm just fucking sick of it. By the way, all Italian-Americans are mafioso, as well.

But again, it was just a story. I didn't lose any sleep over it. I may have been more upset that they absolutely blew the rare casting and use of Celtics play-by-play legend Johnny Most during the narrative. Johnny was a unique character in real life, no getting around that, but what "Winning Time" presented was unrecognizable to me.

Sean Patrick Small and Quincy Isaiah as Larry and Magic.

At the same time, I thought as the show progressed into its second season and matured in its narrative, it took great pains to present a more balanced and relatable version of Larry Bird to its Laker-friendly audience. One of the episodes this season compared and contrasted the personal and private lives of Bird and Johnson as they faced both triumph and tragedy on the road to an eventual battle-of-the-titans showdown that they both wanted and needed to legitimize their legacies.

Dyed-in-the-wool Angelinos probably still hated Larry Bird after that episode, but I have to believe they may have respected him more after getting a glimpse of what made him what he was. And even if it was fictionalized, it was still worthwhile to watch.

After two seasons, I really came to appreciate that "Winning Time," while intended to lionize the Lakers of the 1980s, wasn't afraid to show a few warts as well. There was a lot of in-house tension both on the court and off it, and the off-court stories (even if wildly exaggerated) are what fueled my continued interest in the narrative. I particularly enjoyed John C. Reilly's frequent breaking of the fourth wall to converse with viewers about Dr. Buss' occasionally slap-dash motivations. But at the end of the day, learning that the show had been canceled left me feeling like waiting all day to hit the free shrimp at the end of the press box buffet line, only to find they're run out by the time I got there.

The series ended happily for Celtics fans, with Bird & Co. winning the 1984 title and leaving the Lakers to sulk in the old Garden's locker room. (And as an aside, how about that CGI? The old scoreboard, the tiered upper balconies, the banners in the rafters ... they really made it look as if the old Garden had been reconstructed and used for filming the basketball scenes. Kudos!)

But that clearly wasn't where it supposed to end.

Season 3, I'm told, was supposed to be about the Lakers' redemption. But there are other topics I'd have wanted to see. For instance, it's now well-known that Bird and Johnson left their personal animus behind when they filmed a commercial for Converse shoes in the 1984 offseason. They later wrote a book together (with former Globe writer Jackie MacMullan) about the formation and strength of their friendship. Would we have seen that reach the small screen? I also wonder if the show would have reached Dr. Buss' losing battle with lung cancer and the eventual groundbreaking succession of Jeanie Buss as the team's owner.

And of course, there was that opening sequence about Magic's HIV diagnosis. We never will see how "Winning Time" would have treated that.

And that's a damn shame. 

The whole thing may not have been entirely true, but then again, Donald Trump was our president for four miserable years. Truth is indeed stranger than fiction. But at least fiction is still more entertaining.