3 Cheers: Mavs 100, Spurs 94

I have a few friends that live far away from me.  Sometimes I go years without seeing them and months without talking to them.  It’s no big deal.  When we finally catch up, we jump right back into a conversation as if we had just talked the day before.  We wait until later to dispense with the info about families, health, schedules, money laundering, etc.  So it’s been ten months since we last spoke, but let’s save the particulars for later.  We’ve got some Mavs to talk about.  3 Cheers is back!

The Mavs finally broke the horrible drought of the 90s when they made the playoffs in the 2000-2001 season.  That was ten seasons ago.  In that time, from the 00-01 season to the present 09-10 season, the Mavs and Spurs have met four times a year for a total of 40 regular season games.  The record?  Mavs 20, Spurs 20.  Not counting this series, the Mavs and Spurs have met in the playoffs four times.  The record?  Mavs 11, Spurs 12, with two series wins apiece. 

This is a dead heat.  The first half of this decade, the Spurs won in the playoffs.  The last half of this decade, the Mavs won in the playoffs.  That is the only part of the numbers that look lopsided.  This is the best rivalry in the NBA regardless of what all the nostalgia freaks and East Coast biased media folks want you to believe.  It has lasted a decade.  It is dead even.  It is in the same state, same time zone, same interstate highway, and same mix of mutual respect, abject disdain, and valuable bragging rights between the two.  There is that whole issue about championship rings, but who cares about that?

So here we go again.

3 Cheers:

1. Dirk Nowitzki -  He was on a mission in this game, and the Spurs did very little to deter it.  He had that type of game going that makes me see what I think others don’t see when they watch him night in and night out.  I’ve seen a bad Dirk game.  I’ve seen a good Dirk game.  And then I’ve seen the games where he just wills his team to victory.  His post-up moves say, “I do not suffer fools,” and his sweet fall-away jumpers say, “I’m an unselfish lover.”  Going forward for all of those new to these posts, I’m not saying I would change “teams” for Dirk.  I’m just saying that I would write daily affirmations on cocktail napkins and place them delicately in his lunch pail on top of his turkey sandwich, bag of Ruffles, and Dr. Pepper can wrapped in tin foil for him to read in the middle of the day and daydream about how much we mean to each other.  That’s all.  36 points on 12 of 14 shooting, a perfect 12 of 12 from the free throw line, and 7 rebounds.

2. Manu Ginobili – Duncan got points, but I was never worried about him.  Parker got points, but I was never worried about him.  Ginobili?  I was worried about him.  He had those moments where you thought that if he strung a few possessions together where he scored and/or go to the line, then he was about to catch fire.  He was definitely the best Spur on the court in this game.  26 points on 10 of 17 shooting, 3 0f 7 from behind the arc, and 6 assists.

3. Caron Butler – He replaced Josh Howard technically in February.  He replaced Josh Howard realistically in this game.  He was the second fiddle, and I mean that in a good way.  For some odd reason, the Spurs didn’t double Dirk much, but when they did deny Dirk the pass, Butler stepped up and made them pay.  Perhaps it was Butler’s threat that forced the Spurs to stay off the Dirk double teams.  Who knows, but I hope he keeps it up.  22 points on 8 of 19 shooting, 6 rebounds, and 3 steals.

3 Jeers:

1. Richard Jefferson – He had an awful game, but this Jeer isn’t as much about that as it is his impact this year.  If I were a Spurs fan, I would be sorely disappointed and disgruntled.  Jefferson was brought in for the sole reason to provide that “other” scorer that can be available if and when Duncan, Ginobili, and Parker weren’t available.  That never happened.  I think Jefferson is a good athlete that can be a good basketball player.  I also think that while in New Jersey, he was just another guy who looked better than he was and got overpaid and overvalued thanks to Jason Kidd.  4 points on 1 of 4 shooting, 7 rebounds, and handfuls of Spurs hate mail.

2. Erick Dampier - I used to defend Shawn Bradley more than I defend Dampier.  The thing is, Dampier has the ability of 2754 Bradleys, which if you convert that from Mormon to the metric system, it equals 1385 Cherokee Parks’.  Yet even though Bradley looked awkward, I never really felt like he could do much about it.  When I see Dampier taking a pass like he has peanut allergies and someone’s offering him a Nutter Butter, I think to myself that his salary is what we wouldn’t give to Steve Nash.  When I see him shoot a free throw like he’s playing a game of horseshoes after doing an ill-advised 35 count keg stand, I think to myself that the best thing he will ever do for this organization is fetch us a premier free agent this offseason in a sign and trade.  Dampier, technically, is the best center to ever come through the Mavs organization.  The problem is that Dampier, realistically, is no better than Bradley and Parks, and at least those two had an excuse.

3. Matt Bonner – So it is written, so it shall be.  Now that Bruce Bowen is gone, Matt Bonner will be my hated villian.  The Big Red Boner’s tactics were not as effective as he would have hoped, though.  Dispite his best attempts to lure Dirk into losing his cool rather than actually play passable NBA defense on the German, Dirk scorched him like the fire crotch he is.  And is it me, or does Boner look a lot like Mitchell from Modern Family?  5 points on 2 of 6 shooting, 4 fouls in 19 minutes, and one new nickname from me.

Random Crap:

• Normally I watch the national broadcasts durint the playoffs.  After a whole season of listening to the local crew, it’s a good change of pace to hear the national perspective, however incorrect or misguided it may be.  However, out of fear that the Magic/Bobcats game would run long and TNT wouldn’t switch over in time for the tip-off, I decided to stick with the local crew again.  I’m glad I did.  I really like Mark Followill, Jeff “Skin” Wade mostly knows the right time to chime in and doesn’t intrude as much as I thought he would this year, and Bob-O, the fascinating Bob Ortegal, is always good for a few comments in this section.
• Right before tip-off, I had my first “Oh Crap” moment.  Bennett Salvatore is calling the game.  Salvatore has a history with the Mavs, and dare I say it isn’t glowing.
• Along the scorer’s table, there are those long, narrow billboard-type advertisements where the players wait to check into the game.  Usually it’s something like “Drink Sprite and Lebron Will Say Hi To Your Mother” or “AT&T: Now That’s What I Call Conglomerate!”  At the start of the game, it was just a saying, “Amazing is Belief.”  I’m guessing it was an NBA ad, like “Amazing Happens Here.”  Still, I didn’t get it.  Were they trying to motivate me?  Was it missing the image of a kitten clinging to a tree branch with the caption, “Hang In There”?  If anyone has any insight, please forward this along.
• The Mavs are not scoring early, but it doesn’t matter.  They are playing good defense, they are being aggressive, they are getting good ball rotation on offense, and they are attacking the basket.  By “they”, I’m speaking of the Mavericks.  I know.  That doesn’t sound like them.
• Two observations from the first quarter.  The first, Big James Donaldson was in the house, and he still looked like he could suit up.  Or at least join the team and relegate Dampier to third on the depth chart.  The second comes compliments of my co-conspirator The Don.  Manu must be using Rogaine or Propecia this year because that whole Basketball Monk thing he used to rock isn’t nearly as noticable.  That Propecia stuff can be dangerous, though.  If you use it, you aren’t supposed to touch babies, which is why he hasn’t high-fived Duncan all season.  Too easy?
• A Happy Birthday to Bob Prentice (85) in Abiline.  I don’t know Bob, but it popped up at the bottom of the screen on the Mavs Shout Out board (one of the unsettlingly obnoxious nuances of our current texting/social media phase).  So to Bob Prentice, happy 85th.  I’m guess you weren’t the person who sent the broadcast that tweet.
• Tim Duncan.  Every year the Mavs play him, and every year I’m delighted by that face.  You know the face.  The face he makes when he gets called for a foul.  The one that looks like he’s saying, “How was I supposed to know you can’t feed baby goats with used motor oil?!?”  “How was I supposed to know you don’t let drunk, scary Santa Claus into the Boys and Girls Club in mid-June?!?”  “How was I supposed to know you can’t dry your kitten faster by wrapping it in tinfoil and putting it in the microwave?!?”  Every.  Friggin’.  Time.  He’s.  Called.  For.  A.  Foul.
• And here’s our first Bob-O moment of the night.  Dirk hits a gorgeous off-balance fade-away with Big Red Boner hanging on him like an afghan on a chairback to close out the second quarter.  Followill responds with a boisterous, celebratory, and RHETORICAL, “Are you kidding me?”  One second later, Bob-O calmly, sincerely, and matter-of-factly responds, “No, I’m not.  He did just do that.”  Bob-O is like Craig Sager’s wardrobe.  I cringe yet can’t turn away.  By the way, who could rival Craig Sager’s suits . . .
• Derek Harper, that’s who.  I love Harp.  One of my favorite Mavs all-time.  I think it’s a travesty that Cuban hasn’t retired his number yet.  That being said, Derek Harper was dressed like a reverend pimp or a pimp reverend or some sort of pimp/reverend hybrid.  Kind of like a spork, but I’m not sure if it would be a pimperend or a revimp.  It’s halftime.  I’m losing focus.
• Back for second half, and now my 5-year-old little girl has joined the fold.  I love my little angel, but the Mavs had a good thing going when she was off playing in her playroom.  Now she’s out here, and the Mavs have turned sour.  Would it be rude to tell my daughter to leave because her presence is jinxing the team?  Don’t answer that.  I know it would be rude.  I guess my question is, how do you explain to a 5-year-old that for the good of her daddy’s favorite team she needs to vacate the premises?
• I decide to let her stick around after pondering the fallout with the wife from sending our daughter away because she was messing with the mojo.  I should have just taken the hit.  In a span of 10 minutes, when the Mavs kept thinking it was a good idea to pass to Dampier under the basket so he could treat it like it was a swarm of bumblebees, she A) spilled grape soda on the carpet and herself, B) spilled honey mustard dipping sauce on her skirt and socks, and C) clogged the toilet with a turd that I swear was supernatural.
• I recompose, rewind the game to where we left off, and told my future cheerleader that she needs to help me cheer for Dirk and the Mavericks.  She takes to it like Kanye West to a “Let’s Talk About Me” convention.  She doesn’t stop talking and cheering for the rest of the game, but it works.  The Mavs start turning it around.  I might just keep this girl.
• Coach Popovich resorts to a Hack-a-Damp strategy, with Roger Mason intentionally fouling Dampier to put him on the line.  I don’t blame them, because Dampier sucks at free throws.  I don’t blame them, because it is a tactic made popular by the Mavs when Don Nelson was coaching them.  But I think back to that year that the Mavs were historically upset in the first round by the Warriors.  Avery Johnson benched Dampier, who had started all season for those 67 wins, to go small against the Warriors.  What it told the Warriors was the Mavs were concerned.  That’s all they needed.  Coach Popovich is one of the best coaches in the league.  Seeing him resort to a gimmicky, cheap, last-ditch type of move like a Hack-a-Damp told me that he was out of ideas, that he was concerned, that he was desperate.  It’s the kind of move that, if it doesn’t work, can really spark the other team.  Like intentionally walking a batter to get to the next guy, but the next guy takes it personally and blasts the game winning homer 475 feet into the parking lot behind right field.
• The two things I hate the most about NBA refs: 1) They all have Napoleon Complexes, and 2) they wait to see if the shot goes in before they blow the whistle on too many occasions.  So a guy hacks your forearm as you rise up for a jumper.  Show me in the rulebook where it says “in this instance, if the shot goes in, no foul should be called on the offending party because if it was a real foul, clearly the shot would not have gone in.  If the shot does not go in, then a foul should be called on the offending party because if the shot didn’t go in, clearly it was because of a foul.”
• My satellite goes out for about 20 seconds in the middle of the fourth quarter.  It seemed more like 20 minutes.  I swear by my DirecTV.  I rarely have problems, even in bad weather.  The weather was great on this night.  The Basketball Monks must have just been toying with me.
• When it was all said and done, I wound up sitting on the couch with my cute little girl now starting to fall asleep next to me and my wife sitting next to me as I watch my Mavs settle into a Game 1 victory over the rival Spurs in the playoffs.  I suppose I can’t complain.

So now for the catching up part.  Long time readers will know that there was a time when I would do this after every single game, preseason, regular season, playoffs, offseason, you name it.  That was when I was writing recreationally and trying to keep my skills sharp while focusing on one of my biggest passions.  Now, I write for a living.  I wake up, go to work, and write for an 8 hour day.  When I get home, my word processor is the last thing I want to look at.  As such, I have dialed it back significantly and obviously this past season especially.  Forgive me, but I hope you understand.  All that being said, the playoffs are a different monster, and seeing as how this whole blog was born out of that miraculous Finals run in 2006, I owe it to myself, my team, and readers I might have out there that aren’t genetically obligated to follow this crap to keep on keeping on.  The Dude is back, and it’s Mavs playoff time.  Go Mavs!