A Maverick made in heaven
There were a couple hundred Dallas Mavericks fans still waiting for him in Section 105, and they all looked like proud parents, like they had witnessed a young man grow into a legend, a champion now.
Nowitzki held that Larry O’Brien Trophy higher now, like an offering to the basketball gods. In those big, meaty hands, it looked like he’d found a long lost friend.
When everyone else doubted that a European could be the cornerstone for an NBA champion, when the chance to trade him for Kobe Bryant once crossed the owner’s desk, they always believed that they would witness this night with Nowitzki. They always believed he could be a champion.
The prospect of ever trading Nowitzki always left team owner Mark Cuban asking himself this: ‘What would a title for the Mavericks be worth without Nowitzki?’ He was the ultimate Maverick, a trailblazing European that redefined and reshaped the way a 7-footer could dominate a basketball game.
In the year of the trophy chase, here was the most improbable scene on the shores of Biscayne Bay: Dirk Nowitzki had marched out of Miami with an NBA championship, a Finals MVP and a victory for perseverance.
Nowitzki has forever been the sun the Mavericks’ planets surrounded, an orbiting galaxy of coaches and teammates that have come and gone. He was the constant, the conscience of a franchise that invoked his ethic, his character, his relentless pursuit of victory. No one worked harder.
No one took what should’ve been imperfections as a slow, un-athletic 7-footer, and turned them into unconquerable strengths, an ability to shoot with his body twisted, contorted and falling the wrong way. When his shot wasn’t falling in Game 6 – missing 11 of 12 shots to start the game – his longtime teammate, Jason Terry, barked into his ear: “Keep pushing. Remember ‘06.”
Five years ago, the Mavericks had a 2-0 Finals lead on the Heat, an immense Game 3 edge late, and lost four straight. Remember ‘06 was Terry’s way of reminding Nowitzki about the most important thing of all: Remember the failure, remember the ache – and make it all go away now.
“If I would have won one early in my career, maybe I would have never put all the work and time that I have over the last 13 years,” Nowitzki said.
“It wasn’t about our high-flying star power,” Mavericks coach Rick Carlisle said. “Come on, how often do we have to hear about the LeBron James Reality Show? When are people going to talk about the purity of the game and what these guys accomplished?”
Forever now. Once again, James was an uncertain, uneven star with a championship on the line. He didn’t play well in these Finals, and worst in the moments that the Heat needed him most. He didn’t want the ball in the fourth quarter, passing it away as fast as it had come to him.
As the buzzer sounded on a 105-95 victory, Nowitzki didn’t run to the middle of the floor, into the throbbing mob of teammates and coaches, cameras and flickering lights. He wanted to get out of there, wanted to be alone in the visiting locker room. The tears had started to come, and he just thought that he ought to be alone with them.
Eventually, the Mavericks had to drag him back out to take his Finals MVP trophy, and take his bow on the podium for national television. In the culminating moment of his career, Nowitzki was sheepish, deferring and humbled. He seemed so at peace, so contented. He had taken everything the basketball world could throw at him, and there was no Bleep You moment. There was no I Told You So.
Dirk doesn’t do endorsements and doesn’t do self-promotion. He doesn’t care. He never wanted to be a brand. He wanted to be an NBA champion.
CONNECT WITH US TODAY
Be the first to know the latest news and updates
