Mavs Fan For Life
I never thought I’d find myself writing about my Dallas Mavericks fandom—but here we are. I resisted the urge to write about the worst trade in NBA history until I’d had enough time to process what just happened and what would come next for me as an MFFL. Like many of my fellow Mavs fans, I’ve read nearly all the opinion pieces by Mavs writers and personalities. From the angry and heartbroken to the occasional optimist, I’m here to tell you they’re all correct. If there’s one dumb sports mantra that rings true right now, it’s this: don’t let anyone tell you how to be a fan.
My journey began sometime after the Spurs won their championship in 1999. While I respected the Spurs and all their glory, I never felt connected to the team. Shortly after, the Lakers dominated the league, led by Kobe and Shaq. My cousin, a die-hard Lakers fan, tried to bring me into the fold—but I wasn’t feeling it. Maybe it’s just in my nature to go against the grain, but I knew that wasn’t my team. So I kept searching.
Enter Dirk Nowitzki.
The Big German was making waves in the league and played just four hours down the road. This wasn’t another team my friends or family rooted for. This one was mine.
I was just a kid. I didn’t know the ins and outs of the league, or anything about who ran the front office. All I knew was Dirk, and that the coach was Don Nelson. Growing up in San Antonio, I couldn’t watch every Mavs game, but I caught as many as I could on cable. And it was fun. I saw the likes of Finley, Nash, Van Exel, Dampier, Walker, Jamison, Najera, Josh Howard, Jason Terry, Jose Calderon… yeah, I’m sure I missed some, but you get the idea. I’ve been here for a while. I’m not some fly-by-night fan who showed up during the Luka era.
I was at Dirk’s last home game. I was there for his jersey retirement at the AAC. Like many others, I bawled my eyes out and then got drunk at one of the many bars outside the arena after the game. That wasn’t that long ago. Let’s be honest—Dirk’s final years were mostly mediocre, but that didn’t mean they weren’t fun. We had our moments, even if deep down we knew another title wasn’t coming.
And then came Luka Dončić.
What a time to be a Mavs fan. As our favorite player was on his way out, we were gifted a once-in-a-generation talent. It felt like we had another decade of joyful basketball ahead—something most fanbases never get.
And then, after six magnificent seasons—and just a few months after the Mavericks’ first Finals appearance since 2011—it was all taken away.
The Worst Trade in NBA History
I won’t spend too much time on this. We’ve all read the articles, seen the takes. Besides Nico Harrison, the only person willing to go on TV and make a clown of himself supporting this trade is Kendrick Perkins.
The Mavericks sent Luka Doncic to the Lakers for 32-year-old Anthony Davis, some other dude, and a pick. A laughably inadequate return for a 26-year-old generational talent. Then the smear campaign began—leaks from Nico and the Mavs trashing Luka’s conditioning and commitment. It was pathetic. Everyone saw through it, and Nico just kept fueling it. Story after story criticizing Luka disgusted MFFLs everywhere. Our beloved superstar—who never wanted to be traded—was being slandered by the dumbest GM in NBA history.
The fans revolted. They protested at AAC. The biggest voices in sports media called it out too. But it didn’t matter. Luka was gone. And with him, the beating heart of the city.
BLAME NICO
After the trade, the conspiracies rolled in. That’s how people cope when something this insane happens. But here’s the truth: there’s no conspiracy. There’s just one idiot, and his name is Nico Harrison.
“But what about Patrick Dumont?”
He’s just a dumbass and should be thought of as so. If you’ve seen any Dumont clips since the trade, it’s obvious he doesn’t know a damn thing about basketball. Normally, that’d be fine—not every owner needs to know basketball. That’s why you have a GM. But you don’t expect that GM to turn around and make the worst trade in sports history. I have to believe the guy who sent Babe Ruth to the Yankees is celebrating in hell right now, knowing someone finally out-dumbed him.
Life After Luka
It’s been two months, and fans are choosing their paths. Some are following Luka and becoming Lakers fans. Others are justifying continued support for the Mavs in their current state. I’ve thought a lot about this, and neither option works for me.
Let’s start with the first: becoming a Lakers fan. Hell no. I love Luka, but I loathe the Lakers. If you’re rocking Luka Lakers gear, you should feel bad.
“I’m a Luka fan—I’ll support him wherever he goes.”
Okay. Have fun with that fandom.
As tempting as it is to keep following Luka, it just doesn’t work for me—not in any real, lasting way. Here’s how I’ve been thinking about it:
It’s like your childhood best friend moves across town. At first, you stay in touch—texts, phone calls, maybe some social media interactions. You still care. You still want to be part of their life. Then their birthday rolls around, and you’re invited. You show up, gift in hand, expecting that old connection. But the room’s filled with new friends, new inside jokes, a vibe that doesn’t include you. You try to join in, but the truth is—you’re not part of this world anymore. You’re not their person, not like you used to be.
That’s what it feels like trying to follow Luka on the Lakers. You’re not a Lakers fan. You’re not even a Mavericks fan in the same way anymore. You’re just… lost in the middle. And no matter how much you care, you’re never going to truly belong.
I’ll support Luka for the rest of his career—but no more than I support Giannis, Jokic, or Steph. I wish them all the best. But they’re not on my team.
Luka will go on to break Lakers records and finally get the MVP he deserves. But I won’t care as much. He’s not ours anymore.
Now, for the second option: supporting the Mavs under Nico. Just… don’t. This organization doesn’t deserve your loyalty. Wait it out. Wait until the dumbass Dumont fires Nico. It might take two years—but it’s better than giving Nico the satisfaction of thinking he pulled off a smart trade.
I hope Nico and Dumont never walk into a room again without being ridiculed for the damage they’ve done to a once-proud franchise. So here’s where I’ve landed:
I’m on sabbatical.
Until Nico is gone, I’m out. Once he’s fired—hopefully sooner rather than later—I’ll be back on Twitter having the dumbest arguments imaginable. In response to the ghost town that is now Mavs Twitter, a quote from Locked On Mavs’ Nick Angstadt has stuck with me:
“We used to have so many fights that didn’t matter at all because everyone cared so much…”
I long for the day when we’re all back on social media arguing about whether Dwight Powell’s 7 minutes mattered instead of how an egotistical GM destroyed 25 years of culture in 30 days.
Somebody That I Used to Know
I wrote this essay in hopes that some fans out there feel the same way. That lonely feeling of having no team. No desire to support Luka’s career in LA—or anywhere else. It’s not ideal. But it’s the only thing that feels right.
I love Luka. I wish him the best.
But now… he’s just somebody that I used to know.