A lot of teams win 105-95 games on the road. A lot of series end in Game 6es.
But not like Dallas. Not in these Finals. Not like this: unconventional validation.
How often does a team enter that accomplished — this was a clincher, after all — yet so questioned? For as warm a story and rewarding a bet as watching or picking a Dallas win was, most figured the Heat would find a way. And even up 3-2, trekking down to enemy American Airlines Arena territory figured to be a two-night affair for Dallas, who rattled off impressive-but-otherwise improbable incidents.
Remember: hedging against one or two outliers is why the NBA decides its champions with series. One 22-5 run over 6 impassioned minutes (Game 2) isn’t enough. One gimme paved by recent memory’s least explicable flop from your opponent (Game 4) isn’t timeless. One 64.8 percent 3-point shooting night (Game 5) isn’t conclusive.
Before last night, Dallas was a sum of those parts, still less than the Heat’s individuals. After, it strung themselves and the wins together in being the team Miami couldn’t.
“I really still can’t believe it,” said your Finals MVP, Dirk Nowitzki, who posted 21 points.
Believe it.
Believe who they are: NBA Champions, a title they probably don’t pull off without last night. Hard to imagine any of LeBron James’ and Dwyane Wade’s inadequacies and incompatibility before they happened, but a Mavs road win in a Game 7 against the two of them, however poorly they played before, fries your brain.
Believe who they are: Macgyver resourceful. Had the Mavericks scrapped and surprised one more time to win it all, they’d only be opportunists. But, pitting veteran minimums against max contracts, covering for Dirk’s 1-for-12 first half with 43 points, and holding off until he regrouped for a 10-point fourth quarter, the Mavericks created their own opportunities — not leaning on opponents’ off nights. Shawn Marion’s choking defense, Jason Kidd’s reliability, J.J. Barea’s penetration, DeShawn Stevenson’s efficiency — those were functions of their own doing, as was Terry at his all-time best.
“It wasn’t about carrying the team,” said Terry, who, according to ESPN Dallas’ Tim MacMahon, matched San Antonio’s Manu Ginobili for the most points scored off the bench in a title-clinching win. “It was doing my job. My job is to come in and provide a spark, make plays, make shots. I did my job.”
Terry did his job, and then some. He’s asked to spark, not post a game-high 27 points, let alone in 34 minutes. He’s supposed to make shots, but expecting 11-of-16 is unreasonable.
At least it’s supposed to be…
Marion was typical Marion last night, robbing James of rhythm like he did the league’s two-time reigning scoring champ, Kevin Durant, in the Western Conference Finals. James looked as uncomfortable as ever last night — despite 21 points on 9-of-15 shooting, evidenced by a minus-24 ratio, because of Marion.
The rest of the defense was tight as ever last night, squeezing 16 turnovers and nabbing seven 11 steals. It was the effort you expect from a Rick Carlisle-coached team, but not the result you anticipate against Miami Thrice. Chris Bosh scored 17 points on seven field goals, but Dallas capped his shots at nine. Wade wasn’t awful, but the wrong kind of memorable, after 5 turnovers and 0-for-4 shooting on 3-point field goals.
The role players filed in line and filled in. Every championship needs a slasher like J.J. Barea, good for 15 points on 7-of-12 shooting. Every memorable run needs its DeShawn Stevenson spurts of 3-for-5 shooting on 3-point field goals and 9 points. And free throws are the nails in the coffin, the first and last and betweeners. That goes for the hammers, like Dallas on its 12-of-18 night, and the soon-to-be buried, like the Heat after missing 13 freebies of 33 total.
You hope for this stuff, and tune in like those who drove the 15 Nielsen overnight rating for Game 6, just in case. Just in case Brandon Haywood plays with a torn hip flexor, something he said he would if asked. Just in case Brian Cardinal blue-collars his way to a plus-18 ratio. Just in case Ian Mahinmi plays the most captivating 11 minutes a Frenchman not named Tony Parker has punched.
But those usually don’t happen.
Then again, neither do the Mavericks, a motley crew of over-aged and under-athletic ballers looking for theirs and the franchise’s first titles. But last night proved that much a fluke as they were, the Mavericks’ championship isn’t.
Unconventional validation.
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