The Dallas Mavericks Are Still Winning

The Dallas Mavericks never wore the championship belt. They were just happy to win it all in 2011.

And they’re damn right for doing that.

There was never any intention of defending their title. The truth is, they didn’t have to.

Winning the 2011 NBA Finals was good enough for them…and good enough for me and every other Mavericks fan.

In the last 10 months, there have been innumerable times where I could have dog-cussed the organization for leaving a shot at the 2012 NBA title on the table. Mark Cuban let Tyson Chandler walk. Him signing with New York was the white flag.

Hey guys, we could re-sign the backbone of our defense and possibly repeat. No, let’s fade into the abyss.

They did – turning into mish-mash of mediocrity.

This is where I’m supposed to say the lack of front office leadership culminated in Dallas being swept by the Oklahoma City Thunder in the first round.

Not happening.

I’d delve into my disdain for the Mavericks’ 2011-2012 season but I can’t.

Because I can’t forget the run to the 2011 title. It’s all singed into my memory. Yes, I’m still smiling.

I can’t forget Dirk Nowitzki leaving the floor before the buzzer of the Game 6 clincher in Miami.  He ran up the tunnel, completely overwhelmed. Nowitzki didn’t know how to act – and neither did I.

So here’s me imploring you to not let the 2011 championship ever stray from your memory. Don’t forget it.

Jason Terry said he sees himself playing for the Heat next season. Don’t forget about his inexplicable dagger 3-pointer over LeBron James in Game 5 of The Finals.

DeShawn Stevenson now plays for the Nets. Don’t forget about his first-half 3-pointers and unwavering defense or that he was picked up for public intoxication only days after the championship.

In his defense, he was ecstatic – euphoric, even. We all were.

When the buzzer sounded and the Mavericks were crowned World Champions, no one knew how to react. I was standing on my front porch drinking $5 champagne and listening to the shouting from down the street.

A guy came sprinting up, his shirt had about three buttons latched, and said he’d been running around the neighborhood screaming for the past 15 minutes. I should have gone along.

Sports matter and the Mavericks taking the 2011 title can’t be defined. What did it all mean? I still don’t know.

That’s why when I received a text after the Mavs were knocked off their “proverbial high horse” in the first round of the 2012 playoffs, I didn’t bat an eye.

“The Mavs just weren’t meant to be.”

Not this year. But do me a favor: wipe the smile off my face.

            

So Long, Peyton Manning

Please don’t go, Peyton.

Pardon? The Colts released Peyton Manning? The same guy who brought them from relative obscurity to relevance after the franchise relocated from Baltimore? The same guy who led them to a world championship in 2007? The same guy whose oversized mug adorns the edifice of Lucas Oil Stadium?

Yeah, right. And I bet Peyton’s little brother won the Super Bowl.

Looks like Colts owner Jim Irsay can go ahead and tear down the mural on the stadium. Peyton’s gone – released and free to write the final chapters of his Hall of Fame narrative elsewhere. Let the malevolent riots begin. 

Irsay did the right thing. There’s no loyalty in professional sports, buster. The sooner you learn that, the better. Thinking with your heart and not your head can get you in trouble. Luckily for Irsay, he didn’t face that dilemma. He thought with his wallet.

If the Colts chose to keep Manning, they’d owe him $28 million March 8. That’s a shitload of money for someone who didn’t play a single down last year because he was hurt. Why would you give someone who is lactose intolerant that much cheddar?

I’m no doctor but a neck injury that required two surgeries in four months and sidelined Manning for the entire season is serious. There is no guarantee he’ll return to the form he was in prior to the injury.

If he does, that’s great. But if the Colts paid the $28 million bonus and he played at a level somewhere between a bum and Curtis Painter then, well, then Manning becomes a real pain in the you know what.

The organization is undeniably indebted to Manning, but there is no such thing as a lifetime achievement bonus. That’s exactly what the sunk $28 million would have been had Peyton not returned to superior form. Anything less than a Most Valuable Player-type season and keeping Manning would have become a grave financial mistake.

Manning has done innumerable things for the city of Indianapolis and made the Colts a viable competitor against Indiana University and Pacer basketball for popularity in the state. Heck, it might have surpassed both of them all because of Manning but that’s irrelevant when it comes to spending copious amounts of cash.

And any angst by fans toward either party would be misplaced. In fact, there’s no place for emotion at all. Maybe both sides didn’t get exactly what they wanted but they both got something.

The Colts will surely draft Andrew Luck and he’ll flourish or flounder. He might eclipse Manning, win two Super Bowls and sit courtside at Indiana basketball games. On the other hand, he might suck while Manning sticks it to the man – wherever he goes.

There’s only one certainty: we’ll all be watching.

The Super Bowl Supersedes All

Super Bowl Sunday is the best day of the year. No one argues this. How could they? It’s like Christmas, only with spicy queso.

The game never lives up to the hype but no one cares. That’s mostly because folks are more concerned they’ve gorged themselves to the point their pants make Ines Sainz’ look like parachutes.

And I’m fine with that. Given the opportunity, I dab Pepto-Bismol all over the four pounds of seven-layer dip on my plate. I love every second of it. The spectacle of the Super Bowl is what makes it so spectacular.

The commercials and halftime show are crucial water cooler fodder at the office. Without them, there wouldn’t be conversations like this:

Jack: That Clydesdale was HUGE on the Bud commercial.

Jill: Was that the guy singing “Tiny Dancer?” I guess I didn’t notice. I was too mad at Fergie. OMG, they actually like, made her sing. It was gross.

You’ve been there. I don’t mind explaining that the yellow first down line isn’t actually on the field (they don’t show it, but a guy in a gorilla suit runs out there with a massive can of spray paint) or what an “onsides” kick is to casual fans. By then, I’ve got a bone yard sitting in my lap and my cheeks look like they’ve been smeared with bronzing wipes.

Did I mention Ines Sainz?

Ah, but there is a game and the media has bludgeoned our brains into believing this year’s will be epic. The Patriots will have their vengeance on the evil G-Men (muahahahha). The cover of Sports Illustrated said simply: REMATCH! Spare us all.

Of the 106 players in the previous Super Bowl played by these teams in 2008, only 22 remain. I’m not doing the math. It won’t be a rematch, instead a shot at revenge for the Patriots.

I hope it comes close to the 2008 matchup – I really do. That was one walking bitch of a game. Eli Manning, maligned and eternally relegated to the depths of his brother’s shadow, somehow engineered a game-winning drive. In a fit of hubris, Manning escaped the savage monsters chasing him and completed a pass to some guy named David Tyree who decided to use his helmet to catch the pass. That was fun.

Later in the drive, Plaxico Burress played hero, catching the fluttering touchdown toss from Manning and ending the Patriots’ whimsical quest for a perfect season. Later that year, Burress shot himself in the leg at a night club and went to prison for two years. That, my friends, is a story.

The Giants would be better served now if they had lost that game. Tom Brady is still calling signals for the Patriots and he is pissed. The man has more “swag” and Uggs than any quarterback in the league (how does that equate to performance, again?). He’ll have his way with the shoddy New York secondary and people will start carving his dimple chin into the Mount Rushmore of quarterbacks. Bet on it.

Maybe you shouldn’t. You’d be better served trying out prop bets. The over/under on the length of the national anthem is set at 94 seconds. All eyes are on you, Kelly Clarkson. If that’s not your cup of chicken broth, make up your own wagers – believe me, I’ve tried it.

I once guaranteed to run around in my birthday suit if the Cardinals beat the Steelers. To everyone’s relief and elation, they did not. But hey, you learn nothing from success, right?

           

So Long Sombreros, Cervezas and Good Times

by the PissedOffVaquero

Growing up, I remember taking trips just across the Texas-Mexico border into a small Mexican town called Ciudad Acuna in the Mexican state of Coahuila. Acuna was a palace for cheap products. I’ve sat and ate many times in Ma Crosby’s, the restaurant made famous by George Straits’ “Blame it on Mexico.” The locals were friendly, the food was great and the beer was cold and cheap. As I grew older, my friends and I began to travel the three or so hours from our home town of Big Lake to Acuna for various reasons other than a nice meal at Ma Crosby’s. Ask any red blooded Texan that can remember a visit to the Corona Club or the infamous Boystown and they will probably proclaim that they were fine establishments. Mexico was fun. It was a weekend or holiday getaway for many people. Not only was it beneficial to the Americans traveling across the border looking for cheap beer, good food, a good time, and in some cases a nice senorita, but the economies of these small border towns were highly dependent on tourism. The people of these towns relied on making money off of the various goods they sold from their street front shops to support their families.

 Now a days, as many know, the Mexican border is no longer a safe place for Americans to travel to and in many cases it is not necessarily safe for the residents of the cities. Powerful drug lords and their cartels are in a deadlocked all out war for drug trafficking territory. There around 8 major drug cartels battling it out. The two most powerful cartels are the Los Zetas and the Gulf Cartel. The two cartels once worked together. The Gulf Cartel hired the Los Zetas to do security work for them. The Zetas were comprised of highly trained ex-special operations forces for the Mexican Army. The two turned on each other when the Zetas made a deal with a rival of the Gulf Cartel, the Sinaloa’s. In 2006, Mexico’s president, Felipe Calderon began to fight a war against the drug cartels. He sent federal troops to the border to combat the cartels. Not only were the cartels fighting amongst each other, now they were battling the Mexican Army. What many did not know (or may have known) was that the majority of the Mexican Police Force was corrupt and had been bribed by the drug cartels. Most of the Police force was fired during President Calderon’s war on the cartels as a result of this knowledge. These drug cartels have no regard for life and no mercy. Cartels consistently attack Mexican police headquarters. Many towns’ police forces have a hard time opening their mail without finding the decapitated head of their new sheriff in a box. The cartels are ruthless to anyone that disagrees with them or does not accept their bribes. Speaking of bribes, 12 mayors and one candidate for governor were killed in 2010 alone. Calderon also holds a valuable position on the cartels most wanted list. It seems no one can escape this violence. From December of 2006 to present day 36,226 people have been slaughtered in this drug war.

                             

                         

            These cartels don’t obtain their weapons to murder innocent women and children from their home country of Mexico. No, they get the majority of them from the good ole’ US of A. They simply smuggle most of them across the border. Other more powerful weapons are obtained through deserters of the Mexican Army. These weapons would make the infamous crips and bloods of LA look like fat schoolyard kindergarteners with popguns. AR-15’s and AK-47’s are smuggled over the border as a semi-automatic only firing weapon and later converted into full-automatic weapons that spray lead. There are also reports of the cartels using grenade launchers against Mexican police forces. These police forces do not have the upper hand on these cartels. They are simply outnumbered and outgunned. Being as the United States is the global hegemony, I believe that we are probably the only ones that can stop this. Obviously the Mexican government cannot. I understand that many people have the ‘who gives a rat’s ass’ opinion about what is happening in other countries. As my father would most likely say to me, “We have enough problems with our own country, why in the hell should we worry about some crazy ass gunslingin’ Mexicans? Why should we spend our tax payer’s dollars on them?” Well I will tell you why. These cartels are expanding their influence. There are many reports from inside the cartels that they are now recruiting from inside U.S. borders, recruiting from schools. That’s right, publicly funded schools along the U.S.-Mexico border. Since early 2010, the Obama Administration has sent around 1,800 men composed of National Guard members, customs agents and border patrol agents to the border. This has done nothing to stop the violence. If anything, it has escalated. Also, there is a higher demand of cocaine in Europe where buyers are paying double the amount of the price in the U.S. There is now a presence of these cartels in Italy and in Spain. These cartels are going international.

                                              

I am NOT trying to present this problem in a way that makes it seem like the drug cartels of Mexico are going to overthrow the governments of North America and resemble something close to Hitler’s Third Reich and the world will be consumed by WWIII. They are not going to become the new Nazi’s of the world and send people to concentration camps where they will be force fed jalapeños and Dos XX by Poncho Villa and his associates until they die of alcohol poisoning and/or heart burn . Although that would be a glorious way to go out, it’s not realistic. I am simply stating that something should be done about this problem that has been dubbed America’s third war. The problem should be dealt with before it gets entirely out of hand (not to say it already hasn’t). You don’t let a termite problem eat away at the foundation of your house until it falls down; you nip the problem in the butt before it begins. I am not here to solve the problem. That is up to you folks and our government. I am just trying to spread word of the ongoing conflict that has spilled over our borders. Until this drug war ends, Mexico will continue to see a decline in their economy. Tourism is a large part of the Mexican economy. Who wants to go to Mexico looking for a good time and come back their head in a Nike shoebox? Not I. The streets of small border towns like Acuna, Juarez, and Nuevo Laredo will remain empty until it is once again safe to venture across the border. Mexico used to be a fun place full of warm and friendly people. The beer and tequila were abundant and you could walk (or stumble/crawl) the streets without a worry or a care. Now it’s hard to go there without being kidnapped or becoming target practice for some drug runner’s new U.S. made AR-15, especially if you are a gringo. George Strait was right. “Blame it on Mexico!” Assholes.

The Missing Trophy

I bet Dirk Nowitzki’s basement has everything. All of the regular man cave necessities: pool table, wet bar, home theater and rare memorabilia. It may even have some unique things: an accordion, a suspenders rack, a cigarette roller and a collection of authentic German beer steins. I’m sure it has it all.

Except for a painfully obvious gap on a shelf in between the 2007 Most Valuable Player Trophy and the 2006 Western Conference Championship Trophy, the only empty spot in an otherwise complete career. It’s the spot reserved for the Larry O’Brien Trophy, the coveted hardware awarded to the NBA Champion.

That’s why his reaction after his 48-point performance in Game 1 of the Western Conference Finals against the Oklahoma Thunder isn’t surprising. After Nowitzki posted an NBA Jam-esque line of 12-15 from the field and 24-24 from the free throw line (I know, I know, there aren’t free throws in NBA Jam), he wasn’t concerned with stroking his ego after one of the best games of his career. He wasn’t “cheesing”, “mugging”, or preening after breaking the NBA record for most foul shots made without a miss. Neither was his coach Rick Carlisle. When asked about the record in the post-game press conference Carlisle asked which record Nowitzki broke.

LeBron James, resident "cheeser" and front-runner.

Even more, Nowitzki didn’t bother correcting overqualified sideline reporter Doris Burke after the game when she understated his performance, saying he “overshadowed” the 40-point game by Kevin Durant. It wasn’t that Nowitzki overshadowed Durant as much as he made him seem invisible.  

Call Nowitzki’s offensive style what you want (methodical, boring, European) but don’t for a second forget he’s been unstoppable in these playoffs shooting 52 percent from the field and averaging just over 28 points per game. I’ll be the first to admit, Game 1 for Nowitzki against the Thunder was an aberration shooting-wise but as evidenced by his post-game comments, he’s more concerned about the three more wins to reach The Finals than he is about the three shots he missed. With less than one minute left, up 116-110, Nowitzki made the most crucial play of the game, passing off the dribble to a wide-open Jason Terry in the corner for the game-clinching three. It was the kind of selfless play an MVP player makes when he's not concerned about his legacy or accolades. A player with one thing on his mind: a championship.

The Larry O'Brien Trophy

And with three more wins Dallas can position themselves for a rematch of the 2006 Finals against the Miami Heat. With Terry and Nowitzki being the only holdovers from that season, it would be an opportunity for them to exorcise old demons. Maybe even add one more trophy to the mantle. Then, Nowitzki would have it all.

The Debacle That Is Renewable Energy

by Fate’sRightHand

Growing up in a farming community taught me a lot of things. Things like the importance of family, friends, and neighbors as well as the reliance on faith and religion. Quite possibly the most prevalent lesson that I learned was that everything in the community relies on the land and what comes out of it. The west Texas farming culture is the epitome of living off of the land. Simply put, a good crop facilitates a strong year all-around, while a bad crop makes the entire community hurt. That reliance and passion for the land and industry is the reason that it pains me so much to consider and try to accept the following content.

The current shift in views in the United States from a fossil-fuels mindset to the green energy movement is preposterous. There is no other way to put it. There is no comparison in the financial feasibility of creating renewable energy versus utilizing fossil fuels. Renewable energy, at this point, is not a sustainable industry from a financial perspective, prompting billions of dollars in government subsidies (your tax dollars) to make the wheels turn. In a country whose core principles are deeply rooted in the theories of capitalism, isn’t that counterintuitive? I didn’t have strong feelings for or against the green movement until the effects of it began to hit home.

As the search for more efficient forms of renewable energy trudges on, biomass conversion continues to be presented as a viable source. Biomass is the biological material from living, or recently living, organisms. Biomass is, more commonly, plant matter (corn and sorghum stover, switch-grass, etc.) that is collected and converted to electricity, heat, or liquid fuels. With recent development of efficient processes for gasifying biomass to create electricity and ligno-cellulosic conversion of biomass to create ethanol, environmentalist movements are calling for increased large-scale production (with government support) of biomass as a clean energy source. So how does this hit home for myself and other members of the agricultural industry in the U.S.? To foster the large-scale production of biomass as a renewable energy source would require the direct displacement, and/or conversion, of a large majority of the agricultural producers and their operations in rural America. Moreover, this movement would create an overwhelming reliance on commodity imports from other agricultural countries like China and India.

Ok, enough of the smoke-blowing. Let’s put some numbers to this. There is a finite amount of farmable land in the U.S.; 922,000 acres as of 2007, according to the United States Department of Agriculture. Biomass production is measured in the number of dry tons per acre that can be produced. The average biomass yield per acre of production, as reported by multiple government agencies and other sources, is about 9 dry tons per acre. Obviously, adverse weather conditions would prevent us from producing full yield across the country, so we will multiply that yield by a factor of 0.75 to garner a more reasonable yield of 6.75 dry tons per acre. According to the Department of Energy and regardless of the method of converting biomass that is utilized, the average energy content of biomass (measured in British Thermal Units) is 8,600 BTU per pound, or 17.2 x 10⁶ BTU per dry ton. Therefore, we could expect to produce 11.6 x 10⁷ BTU per acre, on average. Now I don’t know about you, but I hate looking at numbers in scientific notation. Let’s simplify this a little bit.

Energy consumption in the U.S. is measured in quadrillion BTU’s or “quads”. Written out, one quad is equal to 1,000,000,000,000,000 BTU (a huge number, I know). According to the DOE, the yearly consumption of energy in the U.S. as of 2009 was approximately 102 quads (a number that is growing). Using the figures that we calculated above, and converting them from BTUs to quads, we can see that if every farmable acre of land in the U.S. was devoted to biomass production for energy conversion, the maximum energy that we could expect to produce would be 107 quads.

I know that it is not reasonable to expect that all energy required in the U.S. be derived from biomass conversion. I simply like to put things like this into perspective. The fact of the matter is, a devotion of even 25% of the farmable land in the U.S. would cause a complete shift in production processes, farming knowledge needed, the commodity market, and imports/exports, but wouldn’t put a big dent into the country’s energy requirement. We are already seeing an unwanted increased reliance on foreign commodities such as corn, soybeans, wheat and cotton, and this type of movement would increase import levels beyond a level of comfort due to the displacement of domestic production. Too heavy of a reliance on imports will drastically increase the uncertainty of availability of the supplies that we need to feed and clothe the American people. We simply cannot stomach the increased lead times, delivery and production uncertainty, communication barriers, etc. that go along with that heavy reliance on imports.

So what does all of this mean to me? We cannot logically, financially or logistically shift our reliance on energy derived from fossil fuels to the uncertain renewable energy processes that are available today. Do I believe that there may be niche markets available for biomass conversion processes that have some viability? Yes I do. I simply think that the ostentatious desire and belief, by some, that this country can rely fully on renewable energy is naïve and selfish.

Here's To Hoping

Reunion Arena was a dive. Located near downtown Dallas on Sports Street, it sat ignominiously, a musty, cavernous edifice, with outdated clown signs adorning the rim around its exterior. It smelled, looked and felt old – because it was. Built in 1980, the arena was as outdated as the synthesizers in the intro of Van Halen’s “Jump” blaring as the Mavericks warmed up.

And when I was twelve, I loved Reunion Arena. It was responsible for my maiden voyage to see an NBA game with my dad. It was also responsible for my newfound fascination with the awkward, walking stick that was, Dirk Nowitzki. Actually, in 2001, Shawn Bradley was still on the roster –the second-highest paid player on the team at over $8 million – and he made Nowitzki look like he was the guy making sure Furr’s didn’t make a profit off him. (In his defense, Bradley deserved some kind of award for his stilted performance in Space Jam.)

Bradley averaged 8.1 point per game in his 11 year career. He was also 7'6".

Regardless, and luckily for my dad and I, the Nets were in town. They defined the cliché, rag-tag bunch. I don’t remember the score but I remember the Mavericks won, and more importantly at that point in my life, they scored 100 points therefore we received coupons for free tacos from Taco Bell. (I would have preferred Dairy Queen.) Yes, it was a long ride home.

Following the final buzzer I was hooked for life. It’s impossible to appreciate the raw athleticism and dexterity of NBA athletes on TV. It’s beyond anything I’ve ever seen and I'm incapable of adequately comparing it to other professional sports. My appreciation grew long before the game even started. See, this was a time before security personnel even needed uniforms. Before the game, we walked down behind the baskets during shoot around like we were Mark Cuban’s family. We watched Steve Nash shoot what seemed like a million free throws, Michael Finley hoisting jumper after jumper and the gangly, uncoordinated German with gnarled fingers somehow possessing a deft touch which distinguished him from every other player on the floor. I’ll never forget that.

Nowitzki

That’s when I knew. Nowitzki continued to awe us during the game, as my dad kept looking at me and shaking his head in disbelief. We kept having the same conversation. Who is this Na-wit-skee guy?

Knowing Nowitzki before he was an MVP and before he was a global basketball icon is tough. It’s the reason why watching him as he vacillated between being a good and great player, then a great and exceptional player, early in his career feels personal. But the last five years have been worse. Watching he and the Mavericks lose four straight in the 2006 Finals to the Heat was excruciating – something you don’t get over quick. Until the next year, when the No.1 seeded Mavericks were beaten – nee, humiliated – by the lowly, and ironically heat-packing (Stephen Jackson), Warriors. Then, the Hornets, the (Th)uggets and the Spurs in the ensuing years, all of which left fresh, festering scars.

Wade averaged 18 free throws per game in the four Heat victories in The Finals.

After the end of the 2001 season, the Mavericks moved out of Reunion Arena and into the ritzy, state-of-the-art fortress, the American Airlines Center. I’m normally ambivalent about the demolition of buildings but when Acme showed up to flatten Reunion Arena, I was bereft of apathy. It meant something.

It’s been 10 years since my first Mavericks game. It feels like yesterday. Nowitzki is 32. The Mavericks rotation utilizes two players under 30, making their 3-0 lead over the two-time defending champion Lakers unbelievable. Sure, they’re a long shot to win it all, but Nowitzki is playing as well as anyone in the league right now.

Who knows? Our next meeting might be with him on a float while I wipe $10 champagne out of my eyes.

What I’d give for that reunion.