For the better part of two decades, Mavericks fans eyed the first week of July with anticipation tinged with terror. It carried special significance in their tribe: a tradition, a cycle, a signal from the Gods, akin to Punxsutawney Phil or his lesser-known Texan cousin, Big Al. Because, with varying levels of wisdom and commitment, the Mavericks were a team that put all of their eggs in one basket. The “big fish.” The “dry powder.” Mark Cuban and Donnie Nelson wanted a star to pair with Dirk ...
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