100 Things Mavericks Fans Should Know & Do Before They Die

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Contents

Foreword by Mark Cuban

1. Dirk Nowitzki Means Everything

2. 2011 Was Different

3. Mark Cuban

4. How the Mavericks Came to Dallas

5. The 1980s

6. Moody Madness

7. The 1990s

8. Three J’s

9. Just a Kid from Germany

10. Steve Nash

11. The Early 2000s

12. Watch The Finish Line and Wonder What Dirk and Nash Could’ve Been

13. 2006 Western Conference Finals

14. 2006 NBA Finals

15. Jason Terry

16. A Bittersweet 2007 MVP

17. Rolando Blackman

18. The Late 2000s

19. Rick Carlisle

20. 2011 Regular Season

21. Mark Aguirre

22. 2011 Western Conference First Round

23. 2011 Western Conference Semifinals

24. 2011 Western Conference Finals

25. 1988 Western Conference Finals

26. Game 2 of the 2011 NBA Finals

27. Game 4 of the 2011 NBA Finals

28. Game 5 of the 2011 NBA Finals

29. Game 6 of the 2011 NBA Finals

30. Derek Harper

31. Tyson Chandler

32. Free-Agency Failure

33. DeAndre Jordan

34. Dirk’s Twilight Years

35. Why the Title Team Broke Up

36. A Texas-Sized Rivalry

37. Shawn Marion

38. Holger

39. Visit the American Airlines Center

40. Jason Kidd’s Second Stint

41. Boneheaded Plays

42. Dirk’s Australia Getaway

43. The Biggest Fan of Them All

44. Some Good Dirk Stories

45. Calvin Booth’s Layup

46. Fan Favorites

47. Reunion Arena

48. Avery Johnson

49. Vince Carter

50. Donnie Nelson

51. Best Celebrations

52. Study the Rulebook

53. Where Dirk Stands All Time

54. Rick Pitino’s Dirk Story

55. To Draft or Not to Draft

56. Sam Perkins

57. Don Nelson

58. Missed Superstars

59. Michael Finley

60. Huge Scoring Games Against Dallas

61. J.J. Barea

62. Visit the Gym Dirk Used Growing Up

63. The One-Legged Jumper

64. Monta Ellis

65. Casey Smith

66. Shawn Bradley

67. Mark Cuban’s Beginnings

68. Josh Howard

69. The Mavericks and Hip-Hop

70. The Phantom Foul

71. Al Whitley

72. Dick Motta

73. The Three-Point Streak

74. Roy Tarpley

75. 1998 Nike Hoop Summit

76. Dennis Rodman

77. Mavs Fans Can’t Stand These Players

78. The Rajon Rondo Debacle

79. Fall in Love with the Pre-Rondo Mavericks

80. How the Mavericks Got Their Name

81. Brad Davis

82. Three Franchise-Altering Trades

83. Chandler Parsons

84. Other Rivalries

85. The 11-Win Season

86. Devin Harris

87. The Best Dirk Quotes

88. Wesley Matthews

89. Deron Williams

90. Watch the Dirk Nowitzki Documentary

91. Best Places to Take In Mavericks Fandom

92. The Best Dirk Nicknames

93. Rodrigue Beaubois

94. Mother’s Day Massacre

95. Blog About the Mavericks

96. Binge-Watch Mavericks Videos

97. The Best All-Time Guards

98. The Best All-Time Forwards

99. The Best All-Time Center

100. An Oral History of the 24 Hours After the 2011 Finals

Acknowledgments

Sources

Foreword by Mark Cuban

If you’re a Mavs Fan For Life like me, it means we share some crazy, amazing memories.

The most unforgettable one is the championship. In 2011 I refused to let myself think we would win until there were about 90 seconds left in Game 6. Too many times, I had seen something that seemed like a sure thing go away in a moment. I remember the yellow tape going up around the court and hugging Rick Carlisle when the buzzer finally sounded after what felt like an eternity. We were finally champions. Let me tell you, it felt tremendous. Still does. If you’re an MFFL, you know exactly what that feeling is, too.

But you don’t have to win a championship to experience something you’ll never forget. If you’re an MFFL, you probably know exactly who hit the shot in Game 5 to beat the Utah Jazz in 2001—Calvin Booth, coming off the bench out of nowhere to save our asses. You can fondly recall why the team all grew beards in 2013 and how Dirk looked like one of those GEICO Cavemen with his grown all the way out. We didn’t make the playoffs that year, but we did make it to .500, which was important for every player on that team. There’s Jason Terry, and everyone can picture him running down the court after hitting a huge three-pointer with his arms stretched out. JET truly was someone special.

My Mavericks memories started a long time before I bought the team in 2000, though. I still remember the amazing 1988 team that took the seemingly invincible Los Angeles Lakers to a Game 7. I still remember the sickening feeling when Roy Tarpley went down with a knee injury, and his career never recovered. I remember trying to go to Moody Madness except I couldn’t get a ticket. It was all sold out!

I remember how awful the 1990s were because the team just couldn’t figure it out, even after Jason Kidd and the Three J’s seemed so promising. But then a tall dude from Germany came along, and that changed everything.

Dirk and I both joined the Mavericks around the same time. No one knew what to expect from us, and now we’re still here, almost 18 years later. This dude made things so easy for me and everyone else by being the best damn player on the court and coolest person off of it that I’ve ever seen. If you’re not a MFFL, you’ll never fully understand what he means to the Mavericks and all of us.

If you’re a longtime MFFL and you remember all these moments, or if you’re a new fan who wants to know more about the wonderful moments that made the Mavericks who we are today, then 100 Things Mavericks Fans Should Know & Do Before They Die is the perfect book for you. All of those unforgettable moments from 1980 to 2017 are in here.

And with exciting young players and our bright future, so many moments like these are ahead for MFFLs, too. There has never been a better time to be rooting for the Mavericks. For Life.

—Mark Cuban

1. Dirk Nowitzki Means Everything

Dirk Nowitzki pulls his jersey over his eyes as television cameras broadcast his short trip back to Miami’s visiting locker room. There was a reason he had run off the court as soon as the final buzzer sounded, a reason he had hurdled the scorer’s table and fled the court even as the Mavericks achieved the everlasting validation of a championship.

It’s June 12, 2011, and he isn’t going to let anyone see him cry.

He does it in the locker room instead, where the television cameras couldn’t follow, while his teammates are still celebrating on the court. Only when his eyes dry minutes later is a team official able to coax him back onto the floor to accept his NBA Finals MVP and to cradle the Larry O’Brien trophy, moments he had wondered if he would ever experience. I still really can’t believe it, Nowitzki says when a microphone is put in front of him. We worked so hard and so long for it. The team has been unbelievable, riding through ups and downs and always staying together and working. I still can’t even believe it.

Left unsaid—both in this answer and in many more of his words that followed that evening—was his own role in making this unbelievable accomplishment a reality. But Nowitzki has never been one to talk about himself, so we’ll have to do it for him. He brought Dallas a championship. Narrowing his impact to just that, though, is superficial and trite. The truth is Dirk Nowitzki means so much more than that.

* * *

It’s June 24, 1998, and the Mavericks are calling Dirk Nowitzki to welcome him to the team. They don’t know that the decision will make this the most important day in the team’s history. Nowitzki changed the Mavericks as a franchise—and Dallas as a city. With him, he brought so many moments worth remembering. They came in the form of trophies and awards ceremonies and by way of unforgettable shots and cherished games. They triggered celebration, induced pride, produced tears, and brought joy. Sometimes, they came quickly—many memories blending together hours, days, and weeks at a time—and sometimes, they slowed down, giving enough time to hold on and cherish them.

But none could have happened before that day in June. In the year 2022 or 2023, or maybe even 2024 or 2025, Nowitzki will be elected to the Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame. It’ll happen unanimously, and on the first eligible ballot, because Nowitzki’s championship, MVP, 13 All-Star appearances, and 12 selections to an All-NBA team speak for themselves. It’ll be entirely deserved because he’s only the sixth player to ever score 30,000 points in his career and the greatest European basketball player ever. It’ll be celebrated in the Dallas streets because Nowitzki leads the Mavericks franchise in games played, points, rebounds, and wins and is unquestionably the greatest player in the team’s history.

Nowitzki’s statistics are prodigious, and his accomplishments could stretch on for an entire book. An ever truer testament to the player he is, however, is his influence. Nowitzki wasn’t the first big man to shoot three-pointers or dribble the ball on fast breaks, but he quickly became the best. He played like a guard in a seven-footer’s body, and that itself changed basketball.

You see Dirk Nowitzki everywhere you look in the NBA today. Centers shoot threes, and power forwards run fast breaks, and some seven-footers never even need to step into the paint. There are direct tributes, when big men and guards alike shoot Nowitzki’s patented fadeaway off of one leg. Nowitzki isn’t the only reason for the league growing in this direction, but him joining the league at the turn of the century legitimized a trend and sped it along even faster.

Nowitzki deserves credit for the rising popularity of basketball internationally, too. It wasn’t just him, of course. Other foreign-born superstars like Hakeem Olajuwon and Pau Gasol had equally strong influences. Commissioner David Stern also played an enormous role in the globalization of his league in the 1990s and 2000s. But basketball continues to morph into a world phenomenon, and the league proudly announced that a record 113 international players from 41 countries and territories were on Opening Night rosters to begin the 2016–17 season. Nowitzki helped inspire that.

Still, the German’s swooping global influence doesn’t resonate as personally as his impact on Dallas itself. The Mavericks have now played more seasons with Nowitzki (20) than without him (18), and he has radically transformed the city’s entire sporting history. The Mavericks were the league’s laughingstock in the 1990s. From 1991 to 1999, the team won an average of 22 games per season, even going 11–71 in 1993. Nowitzki joined a failing franchise and turned it into a perennial playoff contender, one that won 50 games in 11 straight seasons and made the playoffs 15 times in 16 years.

That’s how good Nowitzki really was. He took basketball—a sideshow to the Dallas Cowboys in the country’s fourth largest metropolitan area—and turned it into the city’s most consistently successful sport. With Nowitzki came heartbreak in the 2006 NBA Finals and elation when they finally won it all in 2011. The Mavericks remain the only major sports team in Dallas to win a league championship since the turn of the century.

Like most sports figures this successful, Nowitzki is beloved. He has made thousands of shots and produced hundreds of storybook memories. Dallas adores him, and we shouldn’t limit that love to the city limits. Nowitzki has created Mavericks fans everywhere—children who grew up in the area and moved away, German citizens who felt pride at one of their own becoming so successful, and even basketball aficionados who marveled when they saw a seven-footer with a gorgeous jump shot and who still can’t look away after so many years. All these people, separated by borders and oceans, languages and culture differences, all share a singular feeling: an undying love for a seven-foot man who is spectacular at putting a ball through a hoop.

This all describes Dirk Nowitzki the basketball player. Dirk Nowitzki, the global icon. Dirk Nowitzki, the hometown hero. Even Michael Jordan, notoriously critical of modern basketball, named Nowitzki one of the four current superstars who could play in his era.

It doesn’t say anything about Dirk Nowitzki the person.

* * *

It’s May 4, 2014, and Dirk Nowitzki is miserable.

He’s always miserable when a season ends in a loss. This year it was expected—the Mavericks were the lowest seed in the 2014 playoffs, and the San Antonio Spurs had won 62 games. But Nowitzki and the Mavericks pushed the Spurs to Game 7, and then anything could happen.

No miracle occurred, and the Spurs clobbered Dallas for an excruciating 48 minutes to move on. In the locker room, Nowitzki dresses slowly. The Mavericks’ PR staff comes to fetch him for a postgame press conference—the lone player representing Dallas on the podium—but he stops at the door. Sometime during the four road games in San Antonio, Nowitzki had befriended the two teenaged locker room attendants. He wishes them both a good summer, briefly calling across the room to each one by name. Only then does he disappear through the door to a press conference, answering depressing questions about another season ending short of his goal.

Nowitzki would still be beloved by his fans if he didn’t care so much. He could still be a future Hall of Famer if he didn’t sign every autograph and accept every photo request. Many of the greatest athletes are narcissistic and disagreeable, to put it mildly, and they’re still seen for their skills on the court. If Nowitzki was like that, it would be easy to look past all that while focusing on the triumphs instead.

But Nowitzki isn’t. He visits Children’s Medical Center at Dallas every year, distributing gifts as Uncle Dirk, and his annual charity events raise money in support of the well-being, health, and education of underprivileged children. He was presented with the Magic Johnson Award in 2014 for his constant and tireless cooperation with the media, partly encompassed by his self-deprecating, dry humor that can draw laughs in any situation.

Just ask those around him. I’ve been around this for three decades, and this is the most special individual I’ve ever come across in NBA basketball, said Rick Carlisle after Nowitzki passed 29,000 points in 2016. And I’ve met some very special people. I’m honored just to come to work with him every day.

He [is] one of the most professional people I’ve ever met, Wesley Matthews said. Not even in sports, not even as an athlete, just as a professional. Dirk, I’ve never seen him say no to a picture. I’ve never seen him say no to an autograph, greets everybody, says hi to everybody, complains a lot, but he works his ass off. I think after 39 years, you can complain a little bit. He’s awesome.

Those around him adore him unequivocally, stars and role players alike. He’s like a brother. Inspiration. A teacher, learned so much from him, just watching him, Tyson Chandler told me. Not only what he means to me, but what he means to the game, what he means to the city of Dallas. I was just telling my teammates: I’ve never seen that level of basketball in my life in that 2011 run. I’ve never seen a player play at that level, just seeing how locked in and focused he was as an athlete and a competitor. I’ll be forever indebted to him and I love him forever because he helped me reach my ultimate goal as an athlete and winning a championship. He can call me anytime for anything, and the only thing I can even describe it like is brothers.

He was such a humble guy, Ian Mahinmi told me, such a great teammate. He goes from one to 15 guys in the locker room, he likes to joke with everybody, likes to make everybody feel like they’re a part of something.

Nowitzki himself would protest any depiction that makes him seem perfect. He’s human, of course. He curses out referees, picks up technicals, and takes out his frustrations on inanimate objects after games. Occasionally, he can’t resist subtle cracks at competitors or former teammates—usually because he feels they aren’t approaching basketball the right way.

It doesn’t make anyone love him any less. Did you ever in your wildest dreams think you’d accomplish what you did? That’s the question Mavericks legend Derek Harper often asks Nowitzki, and this superstar always answers honestly: no.

2. 2011 Was Different

It’s May 17, 2011, and Tyson Chandler is walking into the American Airlines Center. He’s arriving earlier than most for the team’s shootaround before Game 1 of the Western Conference Finals, but he’s not the earliest. As Chandler laces his shoes on the sideline, Dirk Nowitzki is already taking jump shots on the floor. DeShawn Stevenson sidles up next to Chandler, and they both marvel at the sight. Stevenson leans over to Chandler. All we’ve got to do is get that man there, Stevenson said. And we’ll have a ring.

Chandler knew he was right. Nobody in the world could stop him, he thinks. The rest of the team just had to do their part.

* * *

The second most important day in the history of the Dallas Mavericks is June 12, 2011. It’s the day the Mavericks became champions. It was supposed to happen years before. In 2003 the Mavericks made the conference finals only for Dirk Nowitzki to be shut down with a knee injury in Game 3. When Dallas lost in the 2006 NBA Finals in heartbreaking fashion, the one thing the team held onto was that they were in position to do it again. The next year, they became the ninth team (at the time) to win 67 games in the regular season…only to face in the first round the only team they hadn’t beat all year. Instead, Dallas succumbed in one of the greatest playoff upsets of all time.

After a decade of missed chances, the Mavericks’ playoff disappointment earned them a label. They were relying on a superstar who was incredible but couldn’t lead a team by himself, people said. They shot too many jump shots, and teams would never win that way, they said. In 2011 the Miami Heat had just formed a LeBron James-led superteam, the Los Angeles Lakers were looking for a third straight championship, and the San Antonio Spurs were looming as large as ever.

But it happened.

What will always stand out about the 2011 series is how magical it felt. It had the touch of a film writer who relied on a few too many cliches, who scripted an underdog story with a lovable but flawed protagonist and an extraordinary leading man who outmatched his role. Maybe the author could have eased up on perfect comeback endings and sappy moments from people achieving lifelong dreams, but man, this movie always made you tear up at the end.

When I sat down to interview Rick Carlisle for this book, he used the word magic to describe it. It was a magical thing going on and it was a team and a group of guys that truly did understand that this was their time and their moment, he told me. It was really an amazing group.

For Nowitzki, the championship was validation. It meant he would never leave Dallas to chase a ring during his final few seasons and it made sure he would never end up on those hideous lists, ranking the best players who never won one. Because Nowitzki doesn’t draw much attention to himself, sometimes we forget how competitive he is. But it meant everything to him.

For Jason Kidd it was the same thing. Kidd will be a first-ballot Hall of Famer one day soon, and his ring makes sure his career doesn’t end with any regrets. For Carlisle, the championship meant longevity. Without it, who knows if he would be approaching his second decade in Dallas.

For the other veterans, this was their final chance to be champions. Shawn Marion is a borderline Hall of Fame candidate, and the others—Jason Terry, Tyson Chandler, and Peja Stojakovic—won’t make it, but they were all wonderfully talented NBA players for years. They had all fatefully ended up in Dallas together, and 2011 gave them the ultimate award.

It’s magical how all those storylines converged on one team. As the postseason progressed, it seemed like every player had their moment to shine. If we carry on the Hollywood film analogy, it was an episodic progression with every actor getting a chance to shine. Of course, Nowitzki earned the most screen time, but there was the Corey Brewer moment and Stojakovic’s chance for payback. When Brendan Haywood was injured, it opened the door for Brian Cardinal and Ian Mahinmi.

Of course the opponent was the Miami Heat, too, offering a chance for vindication. Naturally, it ended in Game 6, just like it had five years before. After years of criticism for being too soft or not clutch enough, Nowitzki repeatedly succeeded when asked to deliver for Dallas late in games. It was all a supernaturally scripted run. Very seldom in life, when somebody steals your bicycle or your girlfriend, do you literally have a chance to go back to the scene of a crime and right a wrong, Mavericks president Donnie Nelson told me. That just never happens in life and at that level. To go back to the core, it was very gratifying. And I think, just like him, you don’t allow your emotions, just because you’re trying to dispatch the enemy, you are literally trying, and that’s the ramifications of this franchise and the history that the fans went through. If we would have not grabbed that trophy, it would have been a whole different landscape.

3. Mark Cuban

Donnie Nelson has never forgotten his initial reaction upon hearing someone named Mark Cuban had bought the Mavericks franchise. The name ‘Cuban,’ Nelson told me. "The first thing that goes through my mind is, This guy’s from Cuba. I’m going to have to learn how to speak Spanish to