When the Going Gets Tough..Get Chandler on the Court!

I said it after Game 2, when Mavs’ fans everywhere were celebrating and ready to call it a series: Dallas just did what they were supposed to do – win on their home floor. And this past weekend, that’s exactly what Portland did, too. Only in Game 4, having been down by 23 points with just over 90 seconds left in the third quarter, winning the game is the one thing Portland was not supposed to do. But in a tragic and preventable scenario all too reminiscent of Dallas’ colossal collapses in postseason play in the 2006 Finals and the 2007 series against the Warriors, the Mavericks allowed Portland to not only get back in the game, but essentially steal the victory right out from under them.

It was evident on Dirk’s face a few minutes into the fourth quarter, when he was already wearing the mixed mask of defeat and disbelief. It was obvious when Jason Kidd turned the ball over and Jason Terry started jacking up jump shots – the Mavs had already decided, even before the final buzzer sounded, that they let this one get away. It’s like Dallas, aside from Tyson Chandler, who again couldn’t remain on the floor as much as anyone – especially Tyson – would have liked, had mentally checked out and moved on to Game 5 here at home.

It breaks my heart to say this, since I love and adore Dirk more than probably anyone on the planet, aside from his family, but it all begins with the big German. More than anyone else on the 2005-2006 team that went to the Finals and failed, Dirk felt the sting of the lost opportunity. And it has haunted him ever since. I know that sounds like an odd thing to say about a superstar of his caliber, a former MVP, a ten time All-Star, and undoubtedly the most gifted player to ever don a Mavs’ uniform, but it’s the honest truth. Sure, Dirk has still been able to perform at amazing levels on a consistent basis, continuing to be one of the top players in the world. But on some level, in the cobweb filled recesses of his mind, the Miami (and even Golden State) series play on an endless loop, serving as an around the clock reminder of how close he (and his teammates) were to reaching their ultimate goal. And when things start moving in the wrong direction, that video loop starts moving to the forefront of Dirk’s mind, and before anyone realizes what has happened, Dirk has already admitted defeat to himself, unwittingly leading his teammates down the same mental path.

Jason Terry, as the only other holdover from the ’05-’06 Mavericks, also remembers the feelings of anger, frustration, and sheer panic that took hold of the team as Miami moved ever closer to stealing away their championship, one game at a time. Rather than look defeated, however, Terry tends to revert to the ways of the pre-Tyson Chandler Mavericks, who thought jacking up one jumpshot after another would solve and every problem the team might face. Should Dallas somehow not make it out of the first round of the playoffs for the fourth time in the last five years, I can’t imagine Cuban doing anything other than blowing this team apart. And this time, I’d almost have to agree with that decision.

The one player, for the Mavericks, who has the potential to turn this series around and help Dirk and Jet get over their past failures and move forward on a winning path is Tyson Chandler. He is the key, the lynchpin, the glue that has the power to hold this team together when times get tough. Having come into Dallas for a fresh start, not having been a part of any of their recent string of early postseason exits, Chandler doesn’t suffer from the same defeatist mentality that his comrades in arms do. He believes they can win, and if he could just stay out of foul trouble and on the floor, he could be the vocal, emotional, wearing his heart on his sleeve type of leader that could take this team to the promised land of NBA glory. But he has got to be out on the floor, in the thick of the battle, or his voice will go unheard. Simply cheering his teammates from the bench isn’t enough. Tyson has to be on the court, because without his determined and defensive presence, these Mavericks just don’t have the mental mettle to make it out of the first round. And although I survived the hellhole that was the 1990s as a Dallas Mavericks fan, and have thoroughly enjoyed the roller coaster ride that has been the Mark Cuban era, including 11 straight 50+ win season, the thought of seeing my beloved Mavericks go through another exercise in postseason futility is more than even I can stomach.

So I’m begging you, my Mavericks – please don’t let me down. I’d hate to have to become a fan of that other team in Texas…you know, the Houston Rockets.