DALLAS — An earlier version of this story ran on April 10, 2019, as Dirk Nowitzki was gearing up to play the final game of his superb NBA career. You can read that original essay here.
A full 21 NBA seasons.
More than 1,500 games.
And more than 31,000 points scored across that stretch.
It's all led up to this, the weekend when Dirk Nowitzki will become forever enshrined in basketball lore and be inducted in the Basketball Hall of Fame.
I’ve been on this bumpy ride with him since day one, for nearly half my life. No, I don’t know Dirk personally -- but, like a lot of fans around here, I feel a deeply personal connection to him.
I feel like I’ve grown up with him.
I’ve struggled, cried and celebrated right alongside him.
I get emotional just writing these words, frankly. Because it’s nearly impossible to sum up just what he means to me.
He’s given me hope and joy when my world was crumbling around me.
He’s showed me that you can accomplish anything with hard work and dedication.
The day we traded for him in the draft, a lot of fans were skeptical. But me? Having been a Mavs fan during a brutal run throughout the '90s? I welcomed any glimmer of hope for a better future.
I saw him struggle as a scrawny kid through his rookie year. But, as he kept working to improve his game, I kept believing in him.
Every year, he got better.
His work ethic was inspiring to see.
Watching him play night in and night out was something else. Every time he stepped on that court, he left it all out there.
When he lost, he worked harder.
When he won, he still found areas in his game to improve.
Somewhere along the way, I became more of a Dirk fan than a Mavs fan.
In the summer of 2010, when Dirk’s contract was up, I came to terms with the idea of him leaving.
The guy gave his heart and soul to us, the Mavs fans. All I wanted was for him to win a championship. If that was on some other team, then so be it.
But Dirk signed again with Dallas -- even with no guarantee of a championship -- because he couldn’t see himself playing anywhere else.
That’s the definition of loyalty.
Every Dirk milestone is a memory. With each one, I can remember exactly where I was, who I was with and how it felt.
In 2001, our playoff drought was broken, and Dirk and the Mavs put on an amazing comeback to win Game 5 against the Jazz. I can still feel myself jumping up and down, can still see in my mind's eye the high fives I gave out.
Thinking back to Dirk flourishing while playing “Nelly ball” as part of the “Big 3" will always get me amped.
Remember that time he scored 53 points in an epic battle with Tracy McGrady? It was like watching a video game of nonstop scoring.
Then there's another one of my favorite moments: Dirk's "and-1" over Manu Ginobili in Game 7 of the 2006 Western Conference Finals. I still have a picture of that moment framed on my living room wall.
In that moment, Dirk helped us overcome the Spurs, finally, and we all were witnesses to one of the greatest NBA series ever played. I cried tears of joy, celebrating in my tiny Waco apartment that night. I called my parents and my brothers, yelling about the unbelievable game I had just watched.
Of course, I’d prefer to skip over the dreaded 2006 Finals that followed, but it’s too important to his story to leave. That was a tough one, I'll admit. It was painful to be so close to a title only to have it all fall apart. It was devastating seeing Dirk walk off the court after the series ended in Game 6 after four straight losses to the Miami Heat. I was upset as a fan in that moment, sure. But I was more sad for Dirk. This player I’d watched grow into one of the best in the league was so close to everything he had worked for, only to fall short of his ultimate goal.
Things got worse in the wake of that loss, too. Critics called him soft. The national media were... well, let's just say they were not fans. They said he could never lead a team to a championship. After years of disappointing early playoff exits, they all questioned his leadership.
But, in time, all that heartache would lead to something great, something magical: the 2010-2011 season, and that legendary playoff run that followed.
What I had always known about Dirk was now being seen by the entire world. Every game, I was cheering him on -- albeit cautiously, because I still had memories of 2006 in my head. Looking back all these years later, I still can’t believe how it all unfolded. His performances were super-human. His 48-point game against the Thunder? It was epic. The clutch shots game after game? Inspiring.
And how fitting was it that, five years after our team's lowest point, the Mavs would meet the Heat again in the Finals? And not just any Heat team, either -- but the so-called "superteam" featuring LeBron James, Dwyane Wade and Chris Bosh.
On our side, though, we had a warrior who wouldn’t let us lose, who wouldn’t let 2006 be our story. The Mavs' Game 2 comeback? It might be the greatest in NBA Finals history. And Game 6? I remember watching with tears in my eyes in the waning minutes, saying out loud over and over again, “Oh my god, we’re going to do it. We’re going to win.”
That's a moment I will never forget -- and it came in a year when I needed it most.
That season, I lost my mom to cancer. My world was turned upside down.
She passed before Dirk won that ring. She never saw the smile on my face when he hoisted the Larry O'Brien trophy into the year, triumphantly.
But Dirk was there, providing me a moment of pure joy and relief in what was the most painful year of my life.
He put a team, his fans and an entire city on his back. And, in storybook fashion, he won us all a championship.
We saw him blossom from a shy kid into one of the best players the game has ever seen.
And, as if you needed any more reason to love him, look at him off the court. He always stayed late after games to sign autographs. Now, a few years removed from his playing career, he still makes time for his fans, and does so much charity work for this city and this community -- the majority of which is never seen by the public.
When Dirk takes the stage at the Hall of Fame this weekend, he'll so do 21 years of life-long memories, celebrations, heartaches, struggles and triumphs carrying him.
Meanwhile, my mind will wander to the sweet finesse of his one-legged fadeaway, the exuberance of his dagger threes and the fire with which he played the game. I'll think back to those times when -- with the game was on the line, minutes left and the ball in Dirk's hands -- you would just take one look at his face, and know he would leave it all on the floor.
He was lethal, unstoppable and unguardable -- everything you want in your favorite player. And, on top of that, he’s proven himself humble, kind and a man with an unparalleled sense of humor.
I appreciate the hope and courage he gave me, and the example he set for all of us. I'll forever cherish the memories of watching him play with my brothers, my mom and my dad. I'll always remember the countless hours spent cheering for the underdog.
In Dirk, we see what's possible in life. Work hard and you can change your story.
He’s our humble superstar.
It's impossible to sum up what he means to me.
As he goes into the Hall of Fame this weekend, I know I’ll probably shed a few tears. Who knows? Maybe I’ll bawl like a baby, remembering the good times, and all that he has meant to me, to this city and to the legion of fans who have followed his career.
It’s been a remarkable ride.
Thank you doesn’t seem like enough. Inducting him into the Hall of Fame doesn't seem enough.
But it's what we have.
Thanks for everything, Dirk. And congrats on being officially etched into basketball lore with this latest honor.
Lord knows you earned it.