16 comments On Dirk...

I’ve never really been much of a fan of Dirk Nowitzki. Don’t get me wrong, it didn’t take me very long to identify that he was a singular offensive force. I used to think him and Tracy McGrady were the only two players who could become completely unstoppable offensively. The new version of this is that him and Carmelo (as articulated by Charles Barkley) are the only two “unguardable” players in the NBA; Carmelo being a bigger, stronger, more refined but less elegant T-Mac. Nowitzki’s incredible shooting stroke, wide variety of shots and manoeuvres from 10-21 feet, ability to get to any spot on the floor and of course, his height, made him a weapon unlike any other.

But “weapon” is a backhanded compliment in the NBA. You don’t call Kobe Bryant a “weapon”. You don’t call Tim Duncan a “weapon”, nor Shaquille O’Neal or Dwyane Wade. It is a truth universally acknowledged that the NBA Finals is really a place for a select club of perhaps 4-5 guys at any one time that can actually drive a team to a championship. To gain entry you simply had to do it – no amount of talk, numbers, or highlights could compensate. Dwyane Wade needed to put himself out of commission for three years by throwing himself at Maverick defenders one hundred times in order to gain entry. This was a key factor in what made The Decision so appalling. It seemed so obvious that LeBron James was the best player on the planet, and yet, year after year, he not only could not enter the club, but didn’t seem to be particularly close. Increasingly it became a worrying trend, sort of thrilling – “is it possible for the best basketball player on the planet to not be able to win a championship?” It’s what allowed the ludicrous assertion that Kobe Bryant was better to gain traction and become oddly appealing. By joining Dwyane Wade, LeBron dodged the question entirely and everyone felt cheated out of the most intriguing storyline in the NBA – not only couldn’t LeBron do it, he didn’t give a shit either.

Still, LeBron’s situation was immeasurably stronger than Dirk’s. After all, Dirk was following an established trail. Any player in the awkward position between this club of just a handful of centrepieces and the Chris Bosh/Ray Allen zone of being an excellent situational player transforms increasingly into Gollum. They were gradually forced into “the compromise” phase of their careers, where they had tried, and failed, to be “The Guy” on a championship team. After a certain period of time, they moved desperately to a location where they either had one of the Masters of the Universe already, or there were so many of these second and third tier guys that they could form one of these “superteams” to overcome all obstacles. Barkley was 35 when he joined Hakeem in 1996-1997. Drexler was 33 when he joined the Rockets two seasons prior. Kevin Garnett moved to Boston at 31 in 2007, however coming straight out of high school, he had been in the league for 12 years. The ageless Malone was, well…aging, when, at 41, he joined the Lakers. Payton was 37 when he joined Miami’s bench in 2006. No action was required for the fortunate David Robinson in 1999, 33, when Tim Duncan fell into the Spurs lap. In each case, the pattern was clear; the player, along with his team, had peaked some 3-6 years prior (in Payton’s case, 10 years) and both had gradually yet unequivocally declined since that point. From Finals, to Conference Finals, to Conference Semi-Finals, things were clearly doomed with each player’s original team and were they to stay, the player themselves.

Only two players in this stratum of players have grimly held on to the bitter end; Dirk and Nash. In both cases, fans have looked in bewilderment as they march on in clearly hopeless situations. Dallas met the criteria perfectly. Finalists in 2006 with Dirk’s peak, the 67 win first round exit the following year, followed by unremarkable early round losses each following year. What possible reason was there to think improvement was in store as Dirk moved deeper and deeper into his thirties? Dirk seemed impervious to the cries from the sidelines for the preservation of his legacy. Last offseason, the craziest in NBA history, he quietly re-upped for four years with the Mavericks, presumably sealing his titleless fate, leaving a permanent stain on his career (however silly it may seem) in the eyes of many.

The contrast with LeBron could not be more stark from this perspective. LeBron, in his prime, some eight years younger than Dirk, had given up on the 66 and 61 win, first seed in an okish conference, Cavaliers. Dirk, with his 11 straight futile 50+ win seasons, constantly emasculated by the Spurs, and then spectacularly knocked off by the as yet unproven Wade in the Finals on a seemingly miracle trip on the one time he was able to muscle past them. No one personified “quick fix” more than LeBron James, bailing on the city that loved him more than any city loved any player since Jordan in Chicago, despite 8 million a year pay cut and perpetual first seeds, for the chance to play with an established member of the club, not remotely interested in proving himself. No one personified persistence in the face of innumerable odds and futile circumstances more than Dirk (save perhaps the aforementioned Nash), a modern day basketball Sisyphus. It’s this matter/anti-matter quality that gives the Finals a unique flavour.

Expanding on that is the team around Nowitzki. It has been covered extensively, but it is a team dripping with regret and desperation. Coming up short again and again in ever more heartbreaking fashion. Kidd participated in a pair of farcical finals series, winning just two games, with meaningless Eastern Conference Titles as a kind of ironic punctuation point on the whole exercise. Shawn Marion was part of the slow death of the Phoenix Suns, a team that got everyone excited and were thwarted time and time again, no matter what variation of the seven seconds or less theme they tried. The trade to Miami, a failed attempt to revamp the Suns from bottom up, signalled the end of their title ambitions and was one of the most depressing trades made in recent times. Stojakovic was Donaghy’d in 2002. Terry has been Dirk’s deputy in these wilderness years, and felt the pain of 2006 as deeply as anyone. There could be no more fitting star to put in the middle of this team than Dirk.

As improbable as this run has been, when Dallas were certified, lose in the first two rounds specialists, it is clearly and unequivocally the last. The last time I can remember a team playing in a Finals where it was obvious to all that it would be the last was the 1998 Chicago Bulls…and they had the consolation of knowing they had won five titles already. Even Garnett and co. last year harboured legitimate hopes of a return trip. For Dallas, there really is no tomorrow. Kidd has already gone far beyond any other legitimate starting point guard in modern times at 38. Stojakovic has averaged about 12 points, shooting 40% in the last three years, and is in the process of stringing together his final relevant streak of basketball, tapping the very last reserves. Tyson Chandler is a walking injury who’s rebounding has dropped 30% since 2008. Brendan Haywood turns 33 by the start of next season. Terry will be 34. And they all will be coming off a 100+ game season. They may miss the playoffs, the degree they have laid it all out here…and they are capped out.

This is the landscape of these Finals for Dirk. They have been ignored much of the year, and ignored is the word. It wasn’t even that they have been written off or dismissed, they simply didn’t merit consideration at all, everyone had the book on the Mavs – they will lose, what possible reason did we have to imagine them being better than 2006? And the truth is, on paper, it’s impossible to make the argument that they are. This run has been founded on ruthless determination to win. It’s exactly the sort of sports journalism bullshit I revile, and dismiss and roll my eyes at, but this time? It absolutely is. The Lakers sweep was the meeting of two teams on extreme ends of the “caring about this” spectrum. One had grown full and fat on championships, the other was just tenacious in the extreme. Gradually, the Mavs have forced the world to take them increasingly seriously, and as that process has taken place, the pressure on Dirk has been turned up substantially and really, rather suddenly. After all, there was no real pressure in round one; it was assumed they’d lose. And in round two, obviously they would lose to the Lakers. Even after winning game one, it was a given L.A. would respond in game two. But after winning those first two games, suddenly everyone was watching, waiting for the Mavs to fold. The pressure Dallas has been under the past seven games has been more than at any time in the Dirk era, as the real possibility this could actually happen came into focus. Effectively this was a game seven of his entire career, extended over an entire playoffs. And as the microscope has zoomed in closer and closer, what has happened to Dirk? He’s gotten exponentially better. Each passing game the legend has grown.

And it’s all predicated purely on how much he wants it. A level of desire that can only be reached through more than a decade of disappointment, of rebuke, of despondency, despair and finally, irrelevance and mockery. It’s that well that Nowitzki has tapped into, in one of the most profound “no one believed in us, in me” stories in recent sports history. Say what you want, but there’s no way LeBron can have the first inkling of what it feels like to be considered irrelevant, to be mocked, to be ignored. He all but has his own TV station, and basically has a golden statue of him on the desk of Sportscenter. That is another sense Dirk is the anti-LeBron, the matter/anti-matter thing again. LeBron can’t possibly want this as bad as Dirk does, I’m not sure any player has ever wanted to win a championship more.

It’s why I think Dallas will beat this monstrosity of a team in seven games.