All you need to verify the greatness of Dirk Werner Nowitzki will be on display Tuesday night at American Airlines Center.
In what we’ll see. And maybe what we’re not seeing.
In what is widely believed to be the final home game of his 21-year, Hall-of-Fame career, Dirk will suit up in a meaningless contest against the Phoenix Suns. He’ll stay within the offense. He’ll put up shots in rhythm. He’ll do what he can to win the game.
He’ll accept the amped-up adulation from adoring, appreciate fans via sheepish nods, then leave the arena and get ready to go to San Antonio for Wednesday’s season finale.
Dirk = work.
Because he’s never liked to cause a fuss, prompt a spectacle or even remotely be the center of attention, he hasn’t even officially officially confirmed this is his last season. His 40-year-old knees and ancient ankles are feeling better, his shooting is improved, production and playtime are up and if he can squeeze just one more year he can play with Luka Doncic and Kristaps Porzingis and . . .
“I’d love to be there for the young guys one more year,” Dirk said in February in his most recent retirement decision proclamation. “But I think it depends on how my body feels.”
At his supposed funeral, Dirk just might casually rise from the casket, shrug, and go lace up his sneakers.
This sorta happened last season, too.
In the 2018 home finale, fans flocked to soak in his final bow. If not one last swish, at least one more goofy, sallying smile on his way out the tunnel. “Dallas For Dirk” T-shirts draped the seats, complimented by cups commemorating his final night as a Maverick. But just as they were prepared to pay their last respects to his 7-foot body lying in repose, he bypassed the coffin and limped straight to the podium.
“That’s the plan, to come back next year,” Nowitzki said.
A year later, his career is old enough to buy beer. But maybe too young to call it quits?
At the other end of the ego spectrum, there’s Dwyane Wade. In a recent interview on ESPN, the 16-year, retiring veteran talked about his plan for his final game.
“Kobe (Bryant) set the bar pretty high with 60 points in his last game,” Wade said. “I know I’m going to shoot. A lot. I’ll try to get 40 and see where we go from there.”
Never in his humble life saturated with integrity has Dirk stepped on a basketball court with the intent to hog the ball, much less the glory. Wade went on to say the main reason he played this season is because Carmelo Anthony convinced him to take a fabricated “victory lap.” Nowitzki’s farewell tour, meanwhile, has been organic and, therefore, a gazillion times more authentic.
Nowitzki is not only a better player and a superior person to Wade, he’s the greatest athlete in the history of Dallas-Fort Worth. That’s right, the DFW GOAT.
Dirk is firmly cemented – and soon canonized – above and beyond our local heroes: the iconic head coach, the Hall-of-Fame pitchers and catchers, the prolific American-born goal scorer, the record-holding running back and the Super Bowl tacklers and passers. His combination of individual accomplishment, team success, unique humility, flawless citizenship, dogged philanthropy, unprecedented longevity and unwavering loyalty makes him the best, most consequential figure ever in Metroplex sports.
We can start with his resume.
In his first three decades he won a Most Valuable Player, a championship, NBA Finals MVP, 3-point shooting contest, 14 All-Star appearances, 15 playoff berths and, did we mention beating LeBron James and Wade for the title in 2011? Dirk is the NBA’s all-time best white player. The only player to record 31,000 points, 10,000 rebounds, 3,000 assists, 1,000 steals, 1,000 blocks and 1,000 3-pointers.
He recently passed Wilt Chamberlain for No. 6 on the NBA’s all-time scoring list. Another season and, who knows, passing Michael Jordan into the Top 5 isn’t out of the question.
But Dirk’s immortal allure is deeper than numbers.
He is substance over style. Jump shot over mug shot. His only off-court drama was when he was the victim, guilty merely of blind love to a devious fiancée.
Through hard work and diligent preparation, he avoided major injury. And he deflected criticism, turning the other cheek to everyone mispronouncing his name (it’s no-WIT-ski, because that’s how he pronounces it), David West’s playoff tap in 2008 and those “soft” catcalls he gloriously shredded in Miami.
While critics fixated on how Nowitzki didn’t guard, he evolved offensively until he was simply unguardable. In doing so, he revolutionized the game for 7-footers and invented a new position – the “stretch four” – for a 120-year-old sport.
Despite playing with teammates that scored in the wrong basket (Samaki Walker), missed practice by oversleeping in a car that temporarily doubled as their home (Delonte West), distributed birthday party fliers immediately after a playoff loss (Josh Howard) and served as chalk-outline fodder in seemingly every NBA dunking poster (Shawn Bradley), Dirk never – even in the name of “passion” – complained. Never demanded a trade. Never whined for more touches. Never slipped off to Cabo before a playoff series. No drugs. No thugs. His version of taunting was to hit a crucial shot and stick his tongue out at no one in particular.
He deserves the GOAT distinction because he always did things the right way. Now: Coming off the bench because it’s best for the team. Then: Consistently turning down more money in free agency to remain in Dallas.
That’s really it. Even having checked every damn box on his buckets list, Dirk was too loyal to retire on top and too in love to quit in shame. He’s going to play until he can’t play any longer, because his DNA consists of half talent, half tryhard.
Dirk is our Kobe, our Derek Jeter and our Eli Manning. Our German-imported, yet home-grown superstar.
Being honored as GOAT will likely, eventually come complete with a statue, taller than the Dallas zoo’s giraffe, shinier than Deep Ellum’s Traveling Man and more relevant than those that stand guard at area golf courses, football stadiums and baseball parks.
Not that his dribble-drive to becoming DFW’s non-American Idol didn’t have its share of air balls.
The missed free throw in Game 3 of the 2006 NBA Finals that turned the series to the hated Miami Heat. The woeful 2-of-13 shooting performance in Game 6 of the shocking 2007 first-round loss to the Golden State Warriors, when he was MVP and his team was the West’s No. 1 seed. Being duped by then-fiancée Cristal Taylor in 2008 and the subsequent alcohol-induced rebound, complete with unflattering photos circulating on the internet. The horrendous rendition of “We Are The Champions” on the balcony of the AAC in 2011.
But for a guy whose achievements will need extra Hall-of-Fame closet space in Springfield, his transgressions fit in granny’s sewing thimble. As impressive as the minimal hiccups were Dirk’s subdued, therapeutic reactions to adversity.
After the 2006 loss he backpacked through Australia. After the upset loss to the Warriors he showed up to accept his MVP trophy and tearfully said, “As time passes I’ll look back on this as a very special day. But right now, it sucks.” He’s so private that after Taylor was arrested at his Preston Hollow home for probation violations and identity theft our first reaction was, “Wait, Dirk has a girlfriend?”
In 20 years, that’s the only time “Nowitzki” and “police” have been used in the same story.
“Like I always have, I want to keep my private life private,” he said at the time. “I’m not a fancy player and I’m a shy person. I’m the one usually looking to sneak out a side door to avoid the spotlight.”
When we watched Dirk step off the plane from Germany and show off his skills at the Baylor-Tom Landry center after being drafted in June 1998, we weren’t sure he would score 32 points in the NBA. Much less 32,000. Neither was he.
In Germany, his first love was tennis, followed by handball. But it was former German Olympic team player Holger Geschwindner that noticed Dirk’s rare combination of size and athleticism and took him under his quirky basketball wing. At his gym he affectionately calls the “Institute of Applied Nonsense,” Holger taught him hoops and health through non-traditional activities such as rowing, yoga and freelance dribbling to the sound of saxophone-infused jazz.
Only experience, however, could teach Dirk confidence.
As a teenager he always believed he was more Robin than Batman, hence the poster of Chicago Bulls sidekick Scottie Pippen – and not superstar Jordan – on his bedroom wall.
His first afternoon in Dallas, he carried his own luggage, and minimal self-assurance.
“I’m not sure if I belong here,” Dirk said that day. “I hope I do someday. I guess we’ll see.”
With the help of Mavs coach Don Nelson and Holger, he evolved, matured and grew up before our very eyes. At first he was constantly homesick, and fretted over not knowing how to use a microwave or ATM. He survived all sorts of questionable fashion phases: the gold hoop earring, feathered bangs, shaved head, scraggly beard, mullet complete with headband, the works. He ignored critics who said he was too soft to win, but nonetheless proved them wrong by constantly adapting.
From no-WIN-zki, to no-QUIT-zki.
With no vertical jump, Dirk compensated by adding the slap-down strip-and-steal as a defensive go-to. Offensively, he tweaked his left hand into a reliable finish, perfected the escape dribble and maintained uncanny shooting accuracy.
He improved after friend and future two-time MVP Steve Nash left Dallas. He thrived under the diverse coaching styles of Nelson and Rick Carlisle, perfecting both the pick-and-roll in half-court sets and the transition 3-pointer in more up-tempo flows.
Within 10 years he was a perennial All-Star and one of the game’s most high-productivity, low-maintenance players. Dirk dropped 50 on the Suns in a playoff game, made all 24 free throws in a playoff win over the Oklahoma City Thunder and thoroughly outplayed James in the 2011 Finals, averaging 26 points and 10 rebounds to his 17-8.
After his lefty layup sealed the Game 6 win over the Heat and proved karma is indeed a hoops junkie, Dirk could have retired as a legend on the spot. But just a couple months after his private locker-room celebration in the closing seconds, he was back to work with Holger adding to his tool box.
“Talent is only 20 percent of this,” he said. “Willpower is 80 percent. When I stop wanting to improve, I’ll hang ’em up.”
Not that he was ever outwardly fiery, but these days Dirk is much more the genteel German.
He’s aged sophisticatedly from beer to red wine and now he’s a family man, married to Kenyan-Swedish wife, Jessica, and raising three children – Max, Malaika and Morris. While the NBA still venerates those with games above the rim and egos off the charts, he remains feet planted firmly on the ground.
“He’s the same Dirk I’ve always known,” Geschwindner said. “Much richer, but still the same Dirk.”
“Thankfully, I was raised the right way,” Dirk often says.
While he won’t yet slam the door, just a year ago he was hinting at a crack he could slip through to play a possible 22nd season in 2020, for his fourth decade.
Said Dirk in April 2018, “I always kind of leave the end open.”
In music, there is Willie. In cycling, there is Lance. In appetizers, there is Queso.
In DFW sports, there is Dirk.
Just Dirk.
With an unprecedented combination of successful performance and staying power, he’s risen above his local one-name peers. His humility will prompt him to sheepishly shrug this off, but Dirk’s better than, well, everyone. Better than Pudge. Better than Nolan and Young. Better than Byron and Hogan. Better than Doak. Better than Modano. Better than Landry and Lilly and Roger and Jerry and Troy and Emmitt.
He won more than Pudge, had far less help than Modano, recorded more playoff victories than Landry-Roger-Jerry-Troy-Emmitt combined, and boasts more longevity – and loyalty – than any other DFW player.
The only real debate? Which Metroplex icons will serve as Dirk’s wing men on our Mount Sportsmore.
Better than Pudge Rodriguez: Like Nowitzki, the Texas Rangers catcher won an MVP and made the Hall of Fame. But during 13 seasons in Arlington Pudge caught only one playoff win, before journeying to five other teams and winning his only championship in Miami. Pudge doesn’t have Dirk’s trophies, nor tenure.
Better than Nolan Ryan: Despite the fact the Rangers pitcher was knighted for a bloody bulldog headlock on Robin Ventura while Nowitzki merely returned to a playoff game after having his tooth knocked out by a Terry Porter elbow in 2001 against the Spurs, this isn’t even close. Nolan played for three other teams and went only 51-39 in five seasons in Arlington. His two no-hitters can’t touch Dirk’s sustained success, which included 15 playoff berths in 16 years.
Better than Michael Young: The face of the Rangers for 13 seasons, for most of his career he was a great player on some awful teams. Young played defense (Gold Glove), offense (American League batting champ), made two World Series and won an award that always escaped Nowitzki (All-Star Game MVP). But when making comparisons of the best versus the best, the margins can be thinner than Bethenny Frankel. Dirk is more loyal, and therefore, better than Young because the Ranger left Texas at the end of his career to play for the Philadelphia Phillies and Los Angeles Dodgers, slightly tarnishing his otherwise pristine legacy.
Better than Mike Modano: The Dallas Stars scoring machine won more playoff games (74) than Nowitzki (70), led his team to its only championship and landed in the Hall of Fame. But Modano never sniffed an MVP, was assisted in 1999 by three other Hall of Famers – Brett Hull, Ed Belfour and Joe Nieuwendyk – and finished his career playing a season for the rival Detroit Red Wings. The only Hall-of-Fame help on Dirk’s title team came from 37-year-old, shadow-of-himself Jason Kidd, and he’d never consider playing for a fierce foe such as the Spurs or Heat. In fact, in signing five contract extensions he never as much as took a single free-agent trip.
Better than Byron Nelson: The legendary golfer won an unfathomable 11 consecutive tournaments in 1945 and has a tournament and even a local high school named after him. While Byron’s humanitarian legacy is incomparable, he never won The British Open to complete his Grand Slam and retired at 34 after only 15 years on the tour. Nowitzki’s resume has no blanks. He played longer, and his philanthropic works include the Heroes Foundation and his annual – off-the-grid – visits to Children’s Medical Center as Dallas’ tallest Santa.
Better than Ben Hogan: DFW’s most accomplished individual athlete, Fort Worth-bred Hogan won 64 golf tournaments over 41 years including nine majors, fourth-most all-time. Despite a near-fatal car accident, he was golf’s player of the year four times. They are both credited with near-perfect strokes – Dirk’s shot and Ben’s swing. But Nowitzki’s better than Hogan because, well, he’s a better person. While he has always been approachable and affable, Hogan was a surly, harsh introvert that refused to give co-Hall of Famer Gary Player swing advice because he didn’t play Hogan’s brand of clubs.
Better than Doak Walker: The iconic running back starred at Highland Park High School and SMU and is the namesake of one of college football’s most prestigious awards. Good as he was, Doak won his two NFL Championships in Detroit with the Lions. Dirk’s fairy tale could be edited so that he was born in Waxahachie instead of Wurzburg, but that’s just being nitpicky.
Better than Tom Landry: Given his record 29 years, 20 consecutive winning seasons, five Super Bowl appearances and impeccable morality, ranking the former Dallas Cowboys coach behind anyone feels blasphemous. But, then again, he did wear a hat, not a helmet. Dirk’s more directly responsible for the Mavs’ success than Landry for the Cowboys’.
Better than Bob Lilly: “Mr. Cowboy” was the first draft pick in franchise history. A menacing tackle that anchored the famed “Doomsday Defense” for 14 seasons, he won a Super Bowl, made 11 Pro Bowls and now lives in both the Ring of Honor and Hall of Fame. Dirk’s advantage over Lilly is that the Cowboy rarely (aside from one career interception, 18 fumble recoveries and three touchdowns) touched the ball. Nowitzki played longer, and at such an elite level that at times he was the best player in the world.
Better than Roger Staubach: America’s quarterback won a Heisman, served in the Navy, won an MVP, two Super Bowls and wound up in the Hall of Fame. Dirk’s advantages: Roger played with six Hall of Famers compared to his two (Kidd and Nash), lasted only 11 seasons and no longer leads his franchise in any major passing category. Roger threw passes to Bob Hayes and Drew Pearson. Nowitzki caught passes from J.J. Barea and Jason Terry.
Better than Jerry Jones: The Hall-of-Fame owner won three Super Bowls and built one of America’s premier sports venues in AT&T Stadium. In almost 30 years, however, Jerry has only witnessed 14 playoff wins and he’ll never redact his firing of Landry or parting with Jimmy Johnson. Nowitzki’s loyalty to Geschwindner never wavered, even when he had to bail him out of jail when he was accused of tax evasion in Germany.
Better than Troy Aikman: The Cowboys quarterback began his Hall-of-Fame career 11-1 in the playoffs and won three Super Bowls and a Super Bowl MVP. But we can argue that Troy was never even the best player on his own team, something Dirk’s been for most of 20 years. While Troy doesn’t crack the Top 30 in major all-time NFL passing statistics, Nowitzki will finish in the Top 5 in most NBA shooting categories.
Better than Emmitt Smith: Tough to shove aside a guy whose Hall-of-Fame career includes three Super Bowls, a Super Bowl MVP, an NFL MVP, four rushing titles and gaping leads in all-time rushing yards and touchdowns. But the image of Dirk in an enemy uniform – like Emmitt as an Arizona Cardinal – is something that will never cheapen his legacy of loyalty. During his “hometown discounts” in contract negotiations, Dirk sacrificed almost $200 million to remain in Dallas and build the best team possible around him. In 2010, he directly left $16 million on the table. His reasoning: “My heart’s here in Dallas. It always will be.”
End. Of. Discussion.
Dirk’s better – and he’s achieved his singular ID – by being more blah than bling. He’s the idol bound to idiosyncrasies, like storing his mouthpiece inside his sock and incessantly tugging at the NBA logo on the upper left of his uniform. He’s the selfless superstar that never needed multiple tattoos or phat nicknames or an entourage or signature shoes or anything other than life as a gym rat. Heavy on private workouts; light on public self-promotion.
That explains how he’ll retire – someday, maybe Tuesday – as a Top 10 player with only Top 50 popularity.
Because he refreshingly never got the big head, we’re going to immortalize his in cast iron. Maybe marble. We’re thinking of Dirk falling back, launching the iconic one-legged, signature shot – The Flamingo Fadeaway.
Unblockable. Unstoppable. Soon unforgettable.
Like Byron in Las Colinas, Hogan at the Colonial, Nolan in center field and Landry outside AT&T Stadium, Dirk’s effigy at AAC will be perpetually poised to overlook the Mavs into a potentially murky future without him.
“Honestly, I’ve always thought it was a little bit silly,” he said during “The Perfect Shot,” a German-produced documentary about his life. “I’m good at throwing a ball into a basket, mostly because I’m tall. But there are so many people who are good at so many things. Me getting all this attention and praise just makes me uncomfortable. It’s actually embarrassing.”
And there you have it.
Why is Dirk the deserving GOAT of DFW? Because he’s living, legendary proof that nice guys don’t always finish last.
