The Dallas Mavericks, without even the slightest hesitation, have now executed the easiest and most predictable item on their off-season agenda. According to Brad Townsend of the Dallas Morning News (and as confirmed by team release), a four-year contract extension for Mavericks head coach Rick Carlisle is now complete, removing even the slightest possibility that such a brilliant basketball mind could somehow stray from Dallas.
Calls don’t come much easier than this one; there’s only a small cut of NBA coaches who make a tangibly positive impact on their team’s play, and Carlisle happens to be one of them. While many coaches are tempted by the safety of formula, Carlisle finds — and ultimately succumbs to — allure in flexibility. Consistent roles are among the great red herrings of professional basketball, and its to Carlisle’s credit that he’s dispensed with that farce and pushed for basketball players to be basketball players, without worry or need for self-defeating promises. I’m sure many in the NBA would feel safe in knowing that their position on a particular team is never questioned, but Carlisle’s rotational philosophy is empowered by freedom.
If sitting a scorer for the sake of defense is called for, he does it. If playing his starting center just 12 minutes a night gives his team the best chance to win, he won’t hesitate. If an oddly constructed zone defense makes the most sense for his defensive personnel, he’ll thwart convention. Carlisle isn’t just valuable because he makes the right moves, but because he has the audacity to attempt all of the moves. He’s wrong plenty, but his desires to shift his lineups and manipulate the game aren’t at all misplaced, and his team is ultimately best served by his uncanny ability and unending willingness to change directions.
The Mavericks have a catch in Carlisle, and that’s no less true now than it was last June. He’s a premium commodity in a middle-heavy pool, and what he may lack in mystique, he more than makes up for in ingenuity.
You know the drill. The Difference is a reflection on the game that was, with one bullet for every point in the final margin.
You know what they say: If you’re going to lose a winnable series in four games, at least go out in an exhibition for one of the game’s most fantastically understated players, supplying the wood for his buzzsaw in what one can ultimately assume will be a daunting display of razor-focused finesse and craftsmanship. James Harden (29 points, 11-16 FG, 3-4 3FG, five rebounds, five assists) gets a raw deal because the public’s attention span can only extend to two star teammates at a time, but he’s far too good to be relegated as some distant third, and far too lethal to be ignored, even for a second. Dallas tried a number of coverages from a variety of directions in the fourth quarter, but none of it mattered — Harden attacked from the same point on the floor at the same angle, repeatedly bludgeoning the Mavericks with his own unique grace. And, as an important extension: credit upon credit to Scott Brooks, who afforded Harden the opportunities he needed without the slightest interference. Harden keyed the offense and out-dueled Dirk Nowitzki, all because his teammates agreed to spot up from the perimeter, because his coach saw an opening and exploited it, and because he’s a ridiculously difficult pick-and-roll cover.
You know the drill. The Difference is a reflection on the game that was, with one bullet for every point in the final margin.
With the Mavericks splattered on the Thunder’s windshield, it seems a more appropriate time than ever to reinforce just how limited Dallas’ half-court offense has been this season. This crew has managed to salvage just enough possessions for us to wonder if they’re still capable of more, and yet time and time again these Mavs trip into performances like this one: outings filled with bouts of lame, stagnant offense, designed to flow but caught in the mire. Dirk Nowitzki is a miraculous player, but the team so carefully propelled by its balance last season has very clearly caved in, leaving Nowitzki as the one self-standing tentpole to bear the weight of a drooping roster.
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It’s all fun and games when the play action comes easy, but the virtues of extra passes and open shots don’t mean all that much when a team lacks the capability to consistently create such opportunities. Rick Carlisle has tried to find substitutes for the likes of J.J. Barea and Tyson Chandler, but ultimately failed to recreate the same perfect mix of ingredients that brought this same core their own slice of basketball immortality last June. Things could never be the same — not after all of the pieces Dallas lost, and after each of the team’s many additions subtly pushed the Mavs in a different direction. It’s no fault of the newcomers specifically, at least any more than it’s a fault of every Maverick; this was an experiment gone wrong, and though by nature of the process most eyes will turn to the experimenter himself in blame, every beaker and burner and unproductive big man played a part in not playing their part.
I’ve been among Brendan Haywood’s more generous supporters, and even I’ve completely run out of excuses and justifications for his poor performance. Perhaps Haywood still holds value in the right context, but at the moment that context seems far too limited to justify his standing or his salary. He actively holds the team back in the vein of an end-of-the-road Erick Dampier, and though he’s only 32 years old, Haywood seems to have sufficiently worn through much of his NBA utility. Haywood has seen Ian Mahinmi and Brandan Wright — two very imperfect players — take their turn in the spotlight during the regular season, all while he settled in with unimpressive rebounding, far too unreliable defense, and slim offensive relevance. Now he seems to have fully completed his downswing; his play leaves more to be desired than I would have possibly imagined, and he shrivels not in the shadow of Mahinmi, Wright, or even Chandler, but in the context of useful basketball players in the most general sense.
Joon Kim is the author of NBA Breakdown, and its subsidiaries, Spurs Motion Offense and The Triangle Offense — a tree of sites dedicated to analyzing the NBA’s structural elements. He’ll be contributing periodically to The Two Man Game with video-based breakdowns, illustrating particular aspects of the Mavericks’ performance. You can follow Joon on Twitter: @JoonKim00.
Our minds are obsessed with recent history. The last memories we form about an event can dominate how we later relive those experiences: a good first date can be ruined by a bad kiss, or a relaxing vacation can be undone by a stressful return home. With basketball it’s no different; regular season MVPs who falter in the postseason are labeled as chokers, and superstars who struggle but manage to hit clutch shots are remembered as heroes.
If we focus only on the end, the Mavericks seemingly created the looks necessary to win both games. Last year those shots came up heads, this year they’ve hit a stretch of tails.
However, the Mavericks shouldn’t return home regretting how they played at the end of their most recent game. The game was truly lost in a brutal 21-4 Thunder run lasting from the end of the first quarter through midway of the second. During that stretch, the Mavs weren’t locked down by a smothering Thunder defense. They were undone from within: over-dribbling, mental lapses, and the willingness to settle for jumpers all culminated in this possession:
In the initial play we see one pass made to Vince Carter, who isolates at the elbow. Carter dribbles at that spot for six seconds, attempting to survey the defense as James Harden cedes the entire baseline. The other Mavericks aren’t much help as none can decide where to spot up. Carter’s pounding is finally broken up by Harden’s deflection. Now further from the basket at a worse angle, Carter eventually goes baseline, but with no available passing angles, Carter forces a shot behind his head over the contest of Nick Collison. The Mavericks secure the rebound with a new shot clock, but Jason Terry decides to launch a 30-foot contested three-pointer.
All was not lost during this lopsided Thunder run, and there remains a silver lining. The deep hole forced Carlisle to go to a three-guard lineup with Shawn Marion at the four and Dirk Nowitzki at the five. The flow of the offense returned, but not in typical small ball fashion. The offense was revived because Kendrick Perkins was forced to guard Dirk Nowitzki:
In the beginning of the clip, we notice the pace and aggression of the Mavs is noticeably higher. Jason Kidd’s misses a layup but the Mavericks gather the rebound. Dirk slides into the post and the ball is swung to Marion who feeds him. As Dirk sets up, Marion cuts and the other Mavs properly space the floor. Perkins gives Dirk just enough airspace to rise up for the jumper.
Again, in this clip, the Mavericks are attacking quickly. Dirk gets to the same spot and Kidd feeds him the ball. Having established the jumper, Dirk pump fakes Perkins, who bites hard. Nowitzki drives by and uses another pump fake to draw an and-one on Serge Ibaka.
Growing frustrated, Perkins commits an off-the-ball foul while attempting to deny Dirk:
The fast pace of the Mavericks finds Perkins uncomfortably matched up against Dirk again. This time in transition, all the way out to the three point line:
Once again, Dirk uses a pump fake to get by Perkins leading to another and-one. It’s that simple.
The Thunder are a talented group, but they feature a jump-shot heavy half-court attack that can quickly turn south. The difference between being up or down two can be blamed on coin flips alone, but an improbable series win lies more in the Mavs ability to play a complete game than in any particular late-game fortune.
You know the drill. The Difference is a reflection on the game that was, with one bullet for every point in the final margin.
Basketball fans tend to see their teams as either the cursed or the ordained, but in reality every franchise is somewhere in between; whatever forces govern the seemingly random bouncing of the ball tend to slide in whichever direction they like, and as much as we’d like to pretend that there’s a real image to be discerned from the breaks of the game, doing so is akin to claiming that stars are drawn for the sake of constellation.
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Performance is and will always be based in execution, but as Dallas has shown over the first two games of this series, sometimes that execution isn’t enough. It’s not sufficient to merely create opportunities; in the inevitable close games that come in a playoff run, the currency of those opportunities must be exchanged. They’re worth something in themselves, but only by utilizing those windows can Dallas — or any team — attain something of more practical value. The Mavs are trying their damnedest to get more out of those crucial chances, but for the moment they’ve only (and admirably) managed to put themselves in a position to flip a coin. In that, Rick Carlisle and his team can’t be wholly disappointed that the flip keeps coming up tails.
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Dallas, through late-game blunders and all, had their shots. They just weren’t the ordained this time around, and thus failed to make the most of their aforementioned opportunities. Dallas may have left the 2010-2011 season as conquering heroes, but the days of improbable comeback after improbable comeback and huge shot after huge shot appear gone. The magic has left from this Maverick world, with a departure only so sure as the inevitability of its return.
Joon Kim is the author of NBA Breakdown, and its subsidiaries, Spurs Motion Offense and The Triangle Offense — a tree of sites dedicated to analyzing the NBA’s structural elements. He’ll be contributing periodically to The Two Man Game with video-based breakdowns, illustrating particular aspects of the Mavericks’ performance. You can follow Joon on Twitter: @JoonKim00.
For the most part, every NBA team runs the same basic actions: screens, pick and rolls, and isolations. And why shouldn’t they? Basketball is ultimately a simple sport - one team puts the basketball in the hoop more than the other and that team wins. While this is true of most teams, the Dallas Mavericks lie beyond the rabbit hole — where basketball conventions are twisted and your expectations must be set aside.
Last May, the Mavericks found themselves going up against the irrepressible potential of a youthful Thunder squad. The Thunder found themselves facing a team that wasn’t measured by its potential, but the pain of past experience. Now the Mavs find themselves facing a surging championship contender filled with bitter experiences of their own. While the teams may be the same, it’s difficult to say where this Mavs team lies. Their resolve has been softened with a championship, and those championship pieces are playing (or or currently “auditioning”) for other teams.
Yet in a season full of inconsistency, the Mavericks have found the best of themselves when facing the Oklahoma City Thunder. Perhaps this isn’t such a surprise. The orthodox attack of the Thunder may be more susceptible than most when facing the unique methods the Mavs regularly employ. Though time passes and the pieces have changed, the Mavericks embracing of unconventional methods could be the key to holding the Thunder down for one more year.
You know the drill. The Difference is a reflection on the game that was, with one bullet for every point in the final margin.
This should hardly come as a surprise given the final margin, but games really don’t get more balanced than this one. Both teams saw their superstars swell in the spotlight, escaping heroically from the mire of their earlier struggles. The top-notch defenders present didn’t disappoint; Serge Ibaka and Shawn Marion both came up with tremendous play after tremendous play, and the craftier defenders on both teams — Jason Kidd and James Harden — managed to get deflections and key defensive action from off the ball. The rebounding profiles of both teams came to a curious middle. The Mavericks somehow managed to get to the line more often than the Thunder — an incredible feat considering that OKC ranks tops in the league in free throw rate — but also turned the ball over more often than their opponents — an equally incredible feat considering that OKC also ranks last in the league in turnover rate. The elite team and the inconsistent team played their way to a standstill, and Kevin Durant broke the silence with a terrific shot in the face of perfectly played defense.
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One could theoretically chalk up a Maverick loss to any number of factors (oddly fragile late-game performance, Dirk Nowitzki’s uncharacteristic turnovers, OKC’s fantastic denial of Jason Terry, a random Ibaka three-pointer, etc.), but I’m not sure I see the point in that kind of exercise. Rick Carlisle and his staff will look to make changes based on Dallas’ many distinct shortcomings, but none of those individual flaws provided a reason for loss so much as the slightest opportunity for one. The Mavs played well. They got real, consistent value from a wide net of contributors, largely forced the Thunder into difficult shots, and managed to negate some of their opponent’s greatest strengths. But someone had to lose this game, and the fact that it ended in a coin flip made the result no less cruel, and such assignments of blame no less arbitrary.
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That final moment was the only time the game’s dynamic took any decisive shift whatsoever, and even then, only a ticking clock was able to provide the impetus for such a change. Otherwise, these two teams would have traded blows and well-executed sets and spectacular shots into eternity, with no victor save any lucky enough to be a part of the process. Those of us on this side of the fourth wall certainly were, and with any luck, will continue to be so fortunate. . But all individual games must end, just as this series will eventually succumb to its own lamentable finality. In the meantime, the stage has been set for a fantastic arrangement of call and return — supposing that the Mavericks manage to maintain even a remotely similar form in the games to come. Let’s hope that isn’t such a naive assumption in hindsight, and that those engaged by the possibility for highly entertaining basketball aren’t made to be fools. We know what the Mavs are capable of, and sadly, we’ve come to know how little the Mavs are sometimes capable of. This matchup seems to bring out the best in them and the best in a beautiful game, but if this bittersweet day and this nearly canceled season haven’t taught us to take nothing for granted, I’m not sure what in this sport possibly could.
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I honestly have no idea what’s coming, nor the slightest clue of how to conclusively use the information we have to even take a shot in the dark. Yet if nothing else, we have this night of near-makes and infinite possibility. The Thunder and Mavs won’t play again until Monday, and in that lapse we have the invaluable and immaculate gift of tomorrow. For now — even if not for a second more — there are no disappointments. There is only the promise of greater basketball to come, without worry for letdown or regression.
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So rest up. Tomorrow’s a big day.
No series in this year’s playoffs better illustrates the gulf between winning and winnable; the Dallas Mavericks begin their postseason journey against a familiar foe, and although they hold the potential for a hugely significant upset, there is an auspicious lack of logical explanation as to why the series might actually unfold along those terms. Based on the evidence we have, we can’t write the Mavs off completely, and yet the Thunder are simply too good to not be penciled in for the second round on the basis of their far steadier — and noticeably more superior — play on both ends of the court. The playoffs always bring the potential for a reset and subsequent upset, but we can’t rightly expect either without even the slightest justification.
There’s reason to think that the Mavs might be competitive in this series, but we lack the magic bullet that could throw any predictions over the top. There’s a chorus for good reason; “Oklahoma City in six,” is the most reasonable outcome at this point, although there’s a distinct possibility of this series breaking in virtually any which way. We shouldn’t be surprised to see the Mavs push this to seven or lose in four; there are too many variables at work to have a good feel for how either team might play over the course of this series, leaving us with questions on questions and OKC’s far more convincing regular season exploits.
Signing a minimum contract affords one rare luxury for a newly signed player: low expectations. On good teams, most minimum contracts are given out simply for the purpose of creating depth. Yet Brandan Wright (along with teammate Delonte West) has filled out the depth chart and more, as he surpassed those minimal expectations and made the rare jump into importance this season. As the Mavericks look towards the impending playoffs, perhaps no player is more important to the team’s chances than Wright.
The NBA journey of Brandan Wright began as a story of disappointment. Wright was a highly regarded prospect coming out of college, good enough to be taken with the eighth pick by the Charlotte Bobcats and traded to the Golden State Warriors for Jason Richardson. But Wright never managed to live up to his high billing during his first few years in the league. He was plagued by injury through all three of his seasons with the Warriors, and when healthy, rarely managed to estabilish a significant role. When Wright, always an efficient player on offense, finally began to establish a role for himself in 08-09, he injured his shoulder and missed the entirety of the next season. After a regressive season with the New Jersey Nets last year, Wright found himself unattached with little free agent interest. It appeared possible that Wright would find himself out of the NBA entirely, a disappointing end to the story of an athletic finisher who couldn’t overcome injury and circumstance.
But with Tyson Chandler’s departure, the Mavericks were in need of depth at the center position. Wright was signed to a minimum contract, and opened the season as the Mavericks de facto third-string center and very occasional power forward.
It isn’t easy for a third-string center to climb into a significant role, but this time, circumstances were in Wright’s favor. Rick Carlisle is more willing to experiment with his rotations than most other NBA coaches, and the Mavericks’ center hierarchy was certainly not assured. When it became apparent that the Mavs’ biggest problem was offensive production, Wright’s niche began to appear. Brendan Haywood and Ian Mahinmi are both capable centers, but neither player is a particularly dexterous or boasts particular finesse. Wright’s first chance at significant minutes came 12 games into the season, and his full range of talents were put on display. He finished with 12 points on 4-of-5 shooting and blocked three shots in 25 minutes, but only recorded one rebound.
Wright’s greatest strength is his terrific offensive efficiency, a product of his overwhelming length, athleticism, and touch at the rim. Wright shoots 75 percent when at the rim on almost three attempts per game, and provides the Mavericks someone to find under the basket when Dirk Nowitzki can’t find position in the high post. The Mavericks have regressed this season in regards to at-the-rim shooting, relying too often on difficult jumpers to sustain offensive leads. Jason Kidd hardly ever touches the paint these days, Jason Terry’s love for pull-up jumpers has only increased, and Dirk is taking 0.4 less attempts per game at the rim compared to 2011, and making a slightly lower percentage of those attempts. This is where Wright can reverse the Mavericks’ trend, and the Mavericks guards have proven themselves capable of finding an open Wright, as 82.3 percent of his baskets are assisted. The Mavericks have had a below-average season largely due to their inability to create easy baskets, but with Wright playing 20 or more minutes in 10 of his last 16 games, the Mavericks’ offense has improved and scored 100 points or more in eight of those contests. Wright certainly isn’t the sole cause of this improvement (Dirk Nowitzki’s return to form should also be accounted for), but he allows the Mavericks some form of offensive diversity. Plus, Wright also generates something that few other Mavericks can: genuine and immediate excitement, in the form of alley-oops and transitional dunks.
But there are reasons that Wright has remained a situational player for the Mavericks. With Wright in the game, the Mavericks’ defense is capable of declining to almost the same extent that the offense improves. Wright is less strong than his positional counterparts, and often struggles to get back in weak side defensive situations. Wright is a much better defender against power forwards, where he can use his length alone to triumph in isolation situations, but with Dirk Nowitzki and Shawn Marion on the team, opportunities are far more limited at that position. Wright is also less efficient on offense when playing power forward, adding a small caveat to his generally strong offensive production.
Lineup data reveals that the Mavericks are worse with Brandan Wright on the court (-0.52 net points per 100 possessions worse, via basketballvalue.com), and while that negative rating can be partially attributed to some of the sluggish bench units Wright has been a part of, it also indicates Wright’s defensive fallibility. If he’s simply subbed in as part of a normal rotation and not as part of a situational advantage, the Mavericks struggle to break even with Wright on the court and are often overwhelmed in the paint. Wright is a player whose talents the Mavericks are often in desperate need of utilizing, but also a player with weaknesses that make correct utilization of those talents paramount to team success.
While the regular season performance of the Mavericks has generally been a disappointment, Wright’s emergence has served as a source of optimism. As part of the Mavericks’ three-center rotation, Wright has been able to serve as a scoring punch and as a rare input of dynamic athleticism on an aging team. As the playoffs near, Wright could find himself at the forefront of the Mavericks’ rotation (in a matchup vs. the smaller-sized Clippers) or bereft of any playing time (against the unmistakable tallness of Andrew Bynum and the Lakers). It is in these situations where the creativity of Rick Carlisle’s lineup choices must shine through, and act as a propellant to both the Mavericks’ playoff chances and Wright’s rotational viability. He can be the series-changing player that the Mavericks seek, but it’s up to Wright, Carlisle, and the entire team to decide if he’ll find the hidden, electric expansions of his game that could make playoff lightning possible.
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