April 26th, 2024

Welcome back, folks. We're nearing the end of week one of ArmSideFun.com being a (barely) functional website, so things are looking up around here.  Let's get right to it today.

The Dallas Basketball Mavericks, a team that’s entertained, mortified, thrilled, and bewildered me during our 30+ year relationship, are facing the Los Angeles Clippers in the first round of the NBA Playoffs. It’s been said many times that a playoff matchup doesn’t really start until a road team wins a game. If that’s the case, then it’s Series On, motherfuckers, as the Mavs got a big win in LA Tuesday night to even the series at 1-1.

Game three is tonight at the AAC, and I couldn’t be more amped. To get you geared up for it, how about a Mavs-centric power ranking? My 10 favorite Dallas Mavericks of all time:

Who are the four Dallas Mavericks to have their numbers retired thus far? Dirk Nowitzki, Ro Blackman (who’s on this list if it goes 12 deep), Derek Harper and…Brad Davis? Yep, Bradley Ernest Davis. The former Maryland Terrapin with the most Johnson County mullet the Association has ever seen, and he of career averages of 9.8 (scoring), 4.9 (assists), and 1.8 (rebounds), was the first Maverick to have his number retired. The reason? You think it’s easy averaging damn near 10 points a game in the league for over a decade with your sack hanging out of the bottom of your uniform? On the court, Brad was the Shakespeare of dudes in short shorts; dude was a straight baller. No matter how many wrinkles defenders threw at him, Brad Davis was able to go deep into his (bean)bag and pass every test(es). It’d be nuts to think of the rafters of Reunion Arena or the AAC without Davis’s #15 jersey dangling from them. BD was the Pied Piper of point guards with visible plums, and that’s no bollocks.

By far the shortest-tenured Mav on this list, Tyson Chandler was one of the key reasons that Dirk finally got a ring. For that reason alone, he makes this list. Dude was everything you could want in a big man, and absolutely should have been re-signed after the 2011 championship season. Tyson was rock solid in the league for nearly two decades, as he averaged nine-plus boards and more than a block a game in his 19 seasons. Also, and maybe most importantly, his middle name is “Cleotis.” If I was stranded at sea, a guy named Tyson Cleotis Chandler that went hard in the paint is who I’d want helping me out; he’d be the ideal big man in the boat.

Mr. Green is most famous for being a virgin during his entire NBA career. Do you have any idea how impossibly impossible it is to go an entire NBA career without getting laid? It’s unfathomable. I’m pretty sure Zion Williamson has had sex with three “content creators” since I started typing this sentence, and the Pels are literally playing a first round game playoff right now. 

My point is this: It’s incredibly easy to put up sick numbers when you’re in the league, and A.C. Green never partook. We’re not talking about some schmuck that had a 10-day contract with the Wizards in ’05, either. This guy’s career lasted 16 seasons, and notably included a lengthy run with the Showtime Lakers. Allow me to reiterate: A.C. GREEN PLAYED FOR THE SHOWTIME LAKERS AND NEVER FUCKED! Dude played with Magic Johnson, Mykal Thompson, James Worthy, and Michael Cooper, cats that were handling more box than an overworked Amazon driver, and somehow refrained. And although A.C. (by the way, A.C. is his Christian name, that’s not an abbreviation*) isn’t a hall of famer, or a guy that was ever one of the best two or three players on a championship team, the man did set unbreakable records. And I don’t mean his streak of 1,192 consecutive games played. That’s impressive and all, but bro didn’t smash for more than a decade and a half as an established NBA player. That will never happen again. 

*If it were an abbreviation, what could A.C. stand for? Send me your best ideas at armsidefun@gmail.com or @ArmSideFun on Twitter.

Great story, great dude, despite the fact he’s an Oklahoma Sooner (those clowns and their stupid ass wagon can eat a dick). First Mexican to be drafted by an NBA team, second Mexican to play in the NBA (Horacia Llamas was the first, which I somehow never forget), and a guy that played the game the right way. Whatever his team needed at the moment, Eddie would give them. A big rebound needed collecting, despite the fact that he was only 6’8”? Loose ball on the floor that we really need? Some asshat on the Spurs is BEGGING for an elbow in the teeth? Eddie’s on it. He’s definitely on the all-time Mavs’ Fox Hole team, along with Darrell Armstrong, Shawn Marion, Ro Blackman, and Roy Tarpley (in case the fox hole is barricaded by a 10-foot wall fashioned out of cocaine and east Dallas strippers). Eduardo Alonso Nájera Pérez was/is a guy that’s easy to root for, and it made me really happy to learn that he's still with the franchise (as a scout and occasional TV analyst).

I watched so much god-awful Dallas Mavericks basketball in the ‘90s. I missed most of the Mavs’ first heyday in the ‘80s, but unfortunately have explicit and lasting memories surrounding the dark years that followed. How bad was it? From the ‘90-’91 season through the ‘98-’99 season, the Mavericks averaged 22 wins a year; that’s a nine-year stretch where the franchise won just 26.8% of its games. In that run, there were consecutive seasons (‘92-’93 and ‘93-’94) where Dallas went a combined 24-140. 24 WINS AND 140 GODDAMN LOSSES IN TWO SEASONS!!! And I bet I watched 80% of those games. That was a tough stretch, and those teams were constantly disappointing me. You know who didn’t disappoint me, though? Ever? Ronald Jerome Jones, better known as Popeye.

First off, the name plays. “Popeye Jones” is one of the hardest, most kickass names in the history of the league. Then there’s the appearance; dude had a shaved head and big floppy ears like he was a Ferengi from “Star Trek” crossed with a basset hound, making him incredibly endearing. But the biggest reason I loved Popeye is the way he played: with intensity, effort, and as a great teammate. Popeye Jones knew exactly who Popeye Jones was, and that was a 6’8”, 250-pound bowling ball that got a shit ton of rebounds, set jaw clicking screens, and hustled his ass off every second he was on the court. He even found a reliable if unorthodox jump shot (read: uglier than Satan’s butthole) as his career progressed. He played on some awful teams, but that’s not his fault. Popeye did his job and performed his role as well as anyone in Mavs’ history and was often the lone source of basketball joy for me in those lean years.

A hypothetical: You’re facing a life-or-death situation where you need someone to make a contested 31-foot three-pointer with the shot clock winding and your team trailing by two in a playoff game. You can have anyone. Steph Curry, Larry Bird, Reggie Miller, Kevin Durant, anyone. Me? I’m picking Jason Eugene Terry, ‘cause I want the dude that KNOWS he’s going to make that shit, every time he shoots it, and Jet is the undisputed king of “I might have just missed 19 straight shots, but I guarantee you this next motherfucker finds the bottom of the net.” I love Jason Terry, and I’m so glad he got to be a vital part of a Mavs’ championship team.

Yeah, yeah, John Richard Motta was a helluva good basketball coach. First head coach in franchise history, took the club to the playoffs four times, 3rd all-time in wins for Mavs’ coaches, should probably be a Hall of Famer...that’s all true, and great stuff. But that’s not why he’s here.

You know why he’s here. This commercial is why he’s here. If you’re a certain age, you remember that shit like you remember the first time you saw a titty. It was AWESOME. 

Jason Kidd?  Jamal Mashburn?  Jim Jackson? Of course those guys are here, and ready to give you nothing but action.

But that’s gotta be it, right? Surely there’s no one else. Unless…perhaps there’s a 65-year-old white guy with the type of glasses worn by dudes that frequent tug joints? Who maybe looks more toad than human? Surely you don’t have anyone like that…and then bam, you hear the news! “Dick Motta? WE GOT HIM!!!”

Dick Motherfucking Motta. 30 years later, and I still watch this once a week.

It’s time to talk Mr. Maverick, Derek Ricardo Harper. Harp was a defensive stalwart at guard, finishing in the top 10 of NBA Defensive Player of the Year voting three times; twice he was selected 2nd All-NBA Defensive Team. He’s top five in Dallas franchise history in games played, minutes played, field goals made, free throws made, points scored, and is still the franchise leader in total assists (over 5K) and steals (over 1.5K). He was the face of the franchise during the run in the ‘80s when the Mavs advanced to the Western Conference semifinals three times in five years, and he’s been a staple on Mavs’ TV broadcasts as the color commentator since 2005 (replacing the legendary Bob Ortegal). He’s been here through Don Carter, Ross Perot, Jr., and Cubes; the shitty ‘90s era, the Dirk era, and the Luka era; through the heartbreak in ’06 and ’07, and the elation of ’11; and everything in between. He’s a gentleman, and a basketball savant, and he’s as close as the Mavs have to a Tom Grieve-like figure. He didn’t take the floor at Reunion Arena until the ‘83-’84 season, but it feels like Harp has been a Mav since the franchise’s inception.

I love watching Luka Dončić play basketball. LOVE IT. Very little as a DFW sports’ fan has brought me more joy than watching a skinny-fat kid from Ljubljana absolutely dice up some of the best athletes in the world with moves you typically see a 45-year-old stepdad make in the driveway. He’s Rembrandt with the basketball in his hands, but this year he’s drastically improved defensively to the point where he’s a net positive most nights on that end. I know this wears some folks out, but I don’t even mind the temper tantrums and the bitching to officials. That’s just who he is: a hyper competitive assassin (that just turned 25) whose emotions sometimes get the better of him. It’s all part of the Luka experience, and I treasure everything about him being a Maverick. How much do I love watching Luka play for my team? I once paid for a season of the still-birthed Dumpster fire that is Bally Sports Southwest so I could nightly watch the savant from Slovenia. However…

…I’m preparing myself for heartbreak with Luka, ‘cause there’s no way he spends his whole career in Dallas. Or wins multiple scoring titles, MVPs, and championships. Or obliterates every offensive record in franchise history. Or breaks the league record for triple doubles. Or makes chain smoking halftime heaters fashionable again. Or becomes the first NBA player to score 50 points with at least 50% body fat. Or gets his “77” hung in the rafters right next to the “41.” Or definitively solves the JFK assassination. Or gets I-45 renamed in his honor. Or takes the Face of the Franchise baton from Dirk and ends up with a step-back three statue. Or opens a weed store on Harry Hines called “Hookah Magic.” Or founds a European-style basketball academy in Prosper and begs me to coach for him. Or talks his mom into starting an OnlyFans. 

No way, no how, no chance any of those things are possible. It’d be pure folly to even try to speak them into existence.

I’ve always felt a kinship with Dirk Werner Nowitzki, for many reasons:

1) We’re fairly close in age; he was born in June of 1978, me in September of 1981. 

2) The German ancestry thing (my dad’s grandmother was the first from her family born in America).

3) I played basketball in high school and felt like a wing trapped in a post’s body. “YOU GOTTA LET ME FLY, COACH!!!” Those were actual words I said once out loud to a JV basketball coach; he heard me and everything. 42-year-old me would HATE coaching 16-year-old me.

4) We’re both really tall white dudes (him 7’0”, me 6’6”) that decided, without being coerced, to adopt the most unfortunate hairstyle of the ‘90s: the Butt Cut.

5) I won a Dirk look-alike contest at a bar in Arlington during the NBA Finals in 2006 (the prize: $50 worth of Bud Light, as well as pubic lice from the bartender). I had the long curly blond hair, the scraggly goatee, everything. It was eerie how much he and I looked alike when I didn’t cut my hair or shave.

There was never a doubt who’d be in the top spot on this list, and the reasons above are only a small part of it. In fact, not only is Dirk my favorite Maverick ever, I’ll go you one better: He’s the most likable superstar in DFW sports history.

My favorite Cowboy is Michael Irvin; the Playmaker won three rings and spent his whole career in Dallas, but he also literally stabbed a teammate in the neck and almost single-handedly kept the Metroplex cocaine market afloat for most of the ‘90s. My favorite Ranger is Nolan Ryan; Big Tex did some incredible things in his time with the Rangers as both a player and an executive, but the Game 6 choke job in 2011 and the fact that he was a player here for just five seasons dings him. My favorite Star is Eddie Balfour; Crazy Eddie helped bring a Stanley Cup to Dallas and once drunkenly offered a police officer a billion dollars to keep from arresting him, but also has way too many non-hilarious run-ins with the law and stints with other franchises to take the top spot.

In reality, there are only five other guys besides Dirk that could possibly be considered for most likable superstar in DFW sports history: Mike Modano, Pudge Rodriguez, Troy Aikman, Roger Staubach, and Bob Lily. Mike Modano has a Cup, a statue, and has butterflied more beef in the coat room at Nick and Sam’s than the in-house butcher, but there ain’t no way a hockey player takes this honor. Pudge checks a lot of boxes, but he gets dinged for playing for several other teams and not winning a ring with the Rangers. Troy damn sure ain’t getting it, ‘cause that motherfucker is way too handsome, talented, and accomplished; he needs another accolade like he needs a hotter, more razor-sharp jawline. Roger Dodger and Mr. Cowboy, as multiple Super Bowl winners that spent their whole careers in Dallas, both have excellent cases, but come up a bit short. Dirk is the clear choice among that trio, and here’s why: Roger Staubach (11) and Bob Lily (14) played a combined 25 seasons for the Cowboys; Dirk himself played 21 seasons for the Mavericks.

And most importantly, he’s one of the nicest dudes on the planet. Not just “Nice for an athlete” or “Nice for a multi-millionaire,” but nice period. He’s a legit great guy. I defy you to find someone, anyone, that will say a bad thing about Dirk. Do you know how rare that is, for a transcendent superstar athlete to play over two decades in the same market and not make any enemies along the way? I don’t know if it’s unprecedented, but it sure as shit isn’t overprecedented. Sure, the title in 2011, the MVP in 2007, the first ballot Hall of Fame résumé, the All-NBA teams, the big shots…those all help place him at the top of this list, obviously. But they’re not the only reason why Dirk is my favorite Maverick ever and the most likable DFW athlete of all time. It’s because he’s good people, and that shit matters.

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No playlist today, as the Mavs took all of my attention. Got a corker of a mix cooked up for some time next week, though. 

Thanks for reading. You can email me at armsidefun@gmail.com, or find me on Twitter @ArmSideFun. Please visit my Twitter profile, and do enjoy the hastily Photoshopped baseball card medley featuring Pete LaCock, Dick Pole, Rusty Kuntz, and Randy Bush. 

Please allow me to extend a deep and hearty “Muchos…gracias” to my dude Justin for the drawings of Dirk and Dick Motta. He’s a longtime bro that used to crack our friends up with his cartooning abilities, and I couldn’t be happier to feature his work here today. Thanks buddy.

Big weekend coming up. Mavs, Stars, NFL Draft…get your mind right, have fun doing the shit you want to do, and don’t be an asshole.