Second Verse, Same as the First (Only Worse!)

Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse (on the court) than it did in our blowout loss to Miami, I was once again proven wrong. A young athletic Denver team came into our house and again handed us a horrible loss. I let myself have a glimmer of hope while watching the first quarter as both teams traded baskets early on and kept it close. But towards the end of the first twelve minutes, the Nuggets went on the first of three ridiculous runs and pulled away, leading to a 69-42 halftime hole for the Mavs. My first reaction was sound the horns, red alert, this season is going to suck big ones. But being the LOYAL fan that I am, and always have been, I couldn’t give up on my time.

As Coach Carlisle said all last season, this is a process. And much more so in this work stoppage shortened season, with virtually no training camp or exhibition games, and barely time for a practice in between the games that count. Dallas revamped nearly half of their team, and there are definitely going to be some growing pains involved. But that doesn’t mean people should count the boys in blue out, as so many have already decided to do. They may look rough now, but given time to gel and more chances to learn each other’s games, strengths and weaknesses, and discover their new defensive identity, there are plenty of viable veteran pieces in place that could have a legitimate shot at repeating their playoff success from last year.  The key is just being able to MAKE the playoffs. And being patient – with each other, with the system, with the whole process.

Watching last night, fans in the AAC were booing so loudly I could hear them over my television at home. I was flabbergasted. How could these same fans that turned out in droves to see the banner raised to the rafters, clapping and cheering, be booing this same group of guys 24 hours later? Granted, there are times when, watching from my recliner, I get so aggravated at the team that I scream and curse a blue streak and maybe boo just a little. But I would never dream of booing my boys live and in person! Because there’s one thing I have learned about this team over the past few years: they may not have the best players, the most talent, or the biggest name in basketball, but the one thing they do have, unquestionably, is heart. And they leave it on the floor, night in and night out.

That was especially true for late addition Sean Williams, formerly of the New Jersey Nets, who literally lost his lunch while sitting on the sidelines.  But more memorable than his projectile puking was the time he actually spent on the court. In only 11 minutes, he had 12 points and four rebounds, a steal and a blocked shot. But what I found most impressive was his energy and ability to move up and down the floor. I was talking to my mother-in-law and had only been half paying attention to the game when I noticed an unfamiliar face literally soaring through the air, high above the rim. The more I watched, the more I liked him. Sean Williams, or "Crabman" as Skin Wade so dubbed him (as in My Name is Earl), was playing his tail off in game that was already a lost cause. In a game with few bright spots, Crabman shined the brightest. 

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People are already talking, media and former Mavericks alike, already writing off my team ass if there is no hope of Dallas defending their title. But I strongly disagree. It may not look like it at the moment, but as long as the Mavericks muddle their way through the season and can find their way into the playoff picture, all bets are off. Because one thing I've learned from watching sports so many seasons: anyone can make a title run given the opportunity. You don't always have to be the best team to win the title; you simply have to be the hottest.

I WILL ALWAYS BELIEVE!!

GO MAVS!

One Moment in Time, 31 Years in the Making

It was such a great feeling to set foot back inside the AAC in anticipation of real live NBA basketball once more! Dad and I said our hellos to friends, grabbed a bite to eat, and made it to our seats a good bit before the banner ceremony. I can’t speak for Dad, but I was like a kid in a candy store, just happy to be there, awaiting the awesomeness that would soon be surrounding me. Looking around the arena, I was a bit disappointed to see so many empty seats – especially in the lower deck – for such an important game. What’s worse, I saw quite a few Heat jerseys in the mix – including the one on a prepubescent little bugger in the row behind us (I’ll revisit him later on!)

But nothing would dampen my spirits on this momentous day. (Well, not until the game actually started anyway.) First, the Heat were escorted off the arena floor – which was a real bummer, because I was itching to watch the “Big Three” be forced to stand there and watch us celebrate kicking their superstar behinds this past summer. The military guard carried the trophy out to midcourt, and Commissioner David Stern stepped into the spotlight amidst a sea of boos. (While I didn’t boo him, I definitely shared the sentiment; not so much because of his history as anti-Cuban and, consequently, anti-Mavs, but due to his purported role in the lockout.) Stern said a few words, represented the trophy to Cuban, and then Mark and Dirk and a few others spoke. Coach Carlisle, to me, was the classiest; he made a point first and foremost not only to thank the behind the scenes folks, but the players who helped earn the title that have since moved on: DeShawn Stevenson, Peja Stojakovic, Corey Brewer, Caron Butler, J.J. Barea, and Tyson Chandler.

Once the speeches were over, the team gathered around the black tarp thingy which concealed the banner and on the count of three, unveiled the championship banner in all its glory. And while there were cheers, it was not nearly as loud as I felt like it should be, given what the team had accomplished and how long true fans like Dad and I had waited for this moment in time. Regardless, years from now when I look back, all I will remember is the sheer beauty and the awe I felt being a part of that moment, 31 years in the making.
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The game itself was…well, ugly. There’s no nice way to put it. Miami apparently felt they had something to prove (maybe they do) and LeBron and D-Wade lashed out at the Mavericks from every angle imaginable. At halftime, we were down by 20 some odd points, and a large portion of the crowd had already begun heading for the exits. Unfortunately, the aforementioned misguided adolescent boy in the LeBron James’ jersey behind us was NOT one of them. He was annoying, obnoxious, and irritating as teenage boys are wont to be. Not to mention loud. Although I did find it entertaining that every time Miami had the ball, all he could say was “Give it to Wade!” Apparently, even he had no faith in King James. What’s even funnier is that I turned to look behind us and saw the kid’s Dad sitting two seats over from him – proudly wearing his Mavs’ blue and looking virtually as annoyed with his son as I was.

About halfway through the 4^th quarter, when Miami finally felt secure enough in their lead to sit their starters, Dallas’ third string unit had actually started making a run, cutting what had at one point been over a 30 point deficit in half. At the dead ball timeout after the 6 minute mark, I decided (and Dad agreed with me) that we would stand shoulder to shoulder for the remainder of the game, effectively blocking the Heat kid from seeing the action. Yes, I admit, it was childish, but dang it, it made me feel better. And the kid’s dad knew what we were doing and just laughed it off too. Somehow I doubt that dad will be bringing his son back to a Mavs vs. Heat matchup anytime in the near future.

In the end, yes, we lost the game, and lost it badly. But it was only game 1 of a 66 game season, and it was an emotional day to boot. And years from now, when I look back on this Christmas, none of that will matter. All that will remain is my memory of watching my beloved Mavs finally get the recognition they deserved and having my Dad, who first got me interested in all things Mavs way back when, standing right by my side. It just doesn’t get any better than that!

Best. Christmas.Ever.

Let me begin by saying, THANK YOU, players and owners, for giving me the best gift of all: another season of my beloved NBA basketball, no matter how short and squished it might be. And I’m sure all of my friends, family, and colleagues are just as happy as I am, if for no other reason than Mandi – NBA basketball = MISERY. Not just for me, but for everyone else who should be unfortunate enough to come into contact with me on a daily basis!

As soon as the NBA schedule was released, I was stoked to see the Mavs vs. Heat Christmas day game still on tap, and even more jazzed at the slim chance that I would actually be in attendance at the game. But first there were a few hurdles which Dad and I had to clear. Being as the game was on Christmas day, both Rickey and Mom had to be okay with us missing family time in favor of our favorite sports team. Amazingly, we got the okay but then came the bigger problem: obtaining tickets.

Dad and I tried everything, from pre-sales to the Trading Post, where season ticket holders can resell their seats, according to the site, often at more than face value. Tell me about it! The absolute cheapest seats we found were over $130 EACH way up in the rafters! And as much as I was dying to see my boys RAISE THE BANNER, no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t justify spending that much money. So we had resigned ourselves to watching the game on the big screen from the comfort of Dad’s couch.

And then, on December 23, a Christmas miracle happened. “Santa” texted me, asking if I had tickets, and offering to get us some good terrace level seats for about $50 each. Un-freaking-believable. I quickly called Dad, who was all for it, and we regained official clearance from our spouses, and it was a done deal: Dad and I would be inside the AAC  to witness the raising of the 2010-2011 NBA Championship banner! Merry Christmas to us!