From the West we have the greatest European player ever, the
most skillfully versatile 7-footer in the history of basketball.
Yet Dallas Mavericks forward Dirk Nowitzki remains on a quest to
shake the
”
soft
”
label, to prove he has the grit and fortitude to lead a team to
the top.
From the West we have the greatest European player ever, the most skillfully versatile 7-footer in the history of basketball.
Yet Dallas Mavericks forward Dirk Nowitzki remains on a quest to shake the “soft” label, to prove he has the grit and fortitude to lead a team to the top.
From the East we have an athlete the likes of which we’ve never seen on the court, or anywhere else, a bona fide evolutionary leap.
Yet Heat star LeBron James still seeks to validate the hype in his midst, as well as obscure the monumental hubris of his gratuitously dramatic abandonment of Cleveland for the pizzazz of Miami’s South Beach.
Out West we have Dallas point guard Jason Kidd, who possesses the highest hoops IQ of any active player, making his third and probably final attempt, at age 38, to fill in the last blank line on a resume already worthy of the Hall of Fame.
Back East we have Miami coach Erik Spoelstra, the first Filipino-American to become a head coach in the NBA, thus the first positioned to be sprayed with the league’s most coveted bubbly.
Then there is the Heat’s Dwyane Wade, the steel spine of his team, an unsurpassed blend of talent and desire and will.
And because the court is too small to contain all the alluring characters, there is Mavericks owner Mark Cuban.
How could anyone address these NBA finals, which begin Tuesday, without mentioning the most visible, dynamic and engaged owner in American sports?
So many story lines, so many subplots, so much intrigue. For those who say with proud defiance that they’ve lost interest in the NBA, this would be a good time to reconsider.
Not only is Mavs-Heat a refreshing departure from the customary tableau featuring Lakers or Celtics or Spurs — Miami and Dallas have one championship between them in 52 years of combined existence before this season — but it also presents something for every fan.
The traditionalists can marvel at Kidd, the East Bay hoops prodigy whose combination of smarts and savvy are what every coach would wish to bottle for eternity. He plays the game as if he coinvented it with Naismith, except Kidd is more creative. He’s why Dallas coach Rick Carlisle rarely needs to call plays or timeouts.
The stargazers can gawk at James, the most impressive physical specimen in sports. At 6-foot-9, 265 pounds, he is, on a purely physical level, to basketball what young Muhammad Ali (nee Cassius Clay) was to heavyweight boxing — a completely different kind of animal, equal parts horse, cougar and cobra. Sprinting about the court and soaring above the rim, LeBron is the most highlighted player in sports.
Please do not make the mistake of comparing him to Michael Jordan. It’s too soon, much too soon. James so far is inferior to MJ in every way except physically and as a passer. He’s 26. For crying out loud, let the man acquire a few pieces of jewelry.
Skeptics and believers can line up to evaluate Nowitzki, who might be the most casually disrespected superstar in the game. He has a million moves, light-year range and finally seems intent on establishing himself as not just a fabulous player but one capable of delivering in the clutch.
And, no, Dirk is no more the equal of Larry Bird than James is the equal of Jordan — no matter how many rings Nowitzki should earn.
Let’s face it, though, another undeniable aspect of this NBA finals is the satisfaction that will come with the sight of disappointed “villains.”
A considerable percentage of fans welcome the prospect of Miami’s instant contender being taken down by a more carefully constructed team. Perceiving Wade and James and Chris Bosh as co-conspirators of inside trading, running a game within the game, they yearn for all three to discover players can’t fabricate championships.
Meanwhile, there are those who would like nothing more than to catch a glimpse of Cuban whining in defeat. He’s a self-made billionaire exceedingly popular among athletes in all sports. He’s also too brash and outspoken for some, including league commissioner David Stern.
Cuban, though quiet lately, puts his money where his mouth is. Both are prodigious.
A few days after I went on record predicting a Miami victory in seven games, additional research and deliberation have forced me to reconsider. It’s now Dallas in seven.
The Mavs are deeper, with the NBA’s best bench. Wade is playing hurt. Kidd is operating at genius level. James is a matchup nightmare trying to overcome the heavy burden of expectation. Dirk is a matchup nightmare who evidently realizes he’ll never have a better chance.
No matter the point of view, it’s hard to not find something or someone to like, which makes these Finals nothing less than a fan’s delight.
— Column by Monte Poole, The Oakland Tribune
