FROM WHINING TO WINNING.

Byline: Jon Wilner

They should do lunch Monday in Houston. Nothing fancy, just a casual get-to-know-you chat. Drexler's Barbeque would make a fine spot.

It seems Del Harris and Earvin Johnson have failed to get properly acquainted in the three months since Johnson's return to the Lakers. They spend each day together but have not yet discovered what makes the other tick.

``I've only coached Earvin for 30 games,'' Harris said after a 104-94 victory over the Rockets evened the series. ``I really don't know a lot about him.''

More importantly, Harris has not coached Johnson in the playoffs - when he becomes ``moody and temperamental'' (his words) and his competitive juices become a drug that can create an occasional disagreement between player and coach, as was the case Thursday night.

In his pre-HIV days, Johnson called the playoffs ``Winnin' Time.'' But after the confusion that was Game 1 of this series, an 87-83 Lakers loss, it became whining time. Johnson blamed his bland performance on Harris' request that he play on the perimeter rather than in the low post, where he had expected to be positioned.

He said the switch disrupted his game, ``took some of the wind out of my sails,'' but that seemed a lame excuse for a man who spent a decade on the perimeter as the greatest point guard ever. For Johnson, isn't running the show like riding a bike?

No one would have flinched had he said that, at 36, skill erosion prevents him from churning out magical performances each night. Instead, his pride wounded, he placed the onus on Harris and said of the game plan: ``I don't know how to play this way.''

Johnson later said he was glad he took his disenchantment public. But to have done so after a debilitating loss - and to allow his impressionable cohorts to see the Hall of Famer and coach at odds - showed poor judgment.

Harris was not happy.

``If there was any player in the world who you did ask to make an adjustment,'' he said, ``you'd think you could ask one of the five greatest players ever.''

Both men claimed to have smoothed the philosophical glitches before Game 2, but the Lakers were out of sync with Johnson on the court in the first half. He entered with a 20-9 lead and his teammates exhibiting the energy they will need to win in the Summit.

Sports Illustrated whipping boy Nick Van Exel showed few scars from his suspension by hitting three jumpers. Vlade Divac dived on the floor for a loose ball, then batted it to Van Exel, who fed Elden Campbell for a thunder dunk. Eddie Jones was in rhythm. The crowd was desperately involved.

But when Magic checked in, the momentum slowed, then eventually swung to the Rockets. Each time he backed into the low post, his teammates stood and watched. He played a two-man game with Divac, and the swashbuckling perimeter game disappeared: Van Exel made three baskets in the first nine minutes without Johnson, then two the rest of the game.

It was not until late in the third quarter that Johnson imposed his will upon the proceedings, and then it was Winnin' Time Redux. Just as Michael Jordan has reinvented himself as a jump shooter extraordinaire, Johnson does some of his best work not on the fast break, but from the low post. He wheeled for a layup. He spun for a grandfatherly scoop. Soon the Lakers were in control.

``I knew when the game was changing in their favor, and I said, `OK, look out, I'm taking over. Get out of the way.' You all have known me too long to know I'm not going to sit back - I'm not good at it.''

If the first two games have proven anything, it's that the Lakers won't survive this series without Johnson at his best. The Rockets did not play well Thursday and won, and they stayed close in crunch time Saturday without Hakeem Olajuwon, who fouled out with 10 minutes remaining. In two games, Houston has made 6 of 31 3-pointers - a trend that is not likely to continue in the raucous Summit.

Afterward, someone asked Johnson if he and Harris had made up. ``I'm too old to be making up with people,'' he said, smiling.

``Look, I don't want to coach no more. Del's the coach. I'm not sitting here thinking I'm the coach, or I want to do something different than Del. Don't think there's a rift or a feud between Del and I.

``I want Del to understand me, and I'm trying to understand him.''

Lunch, anyone?