It’s probably too soon to debate this, but that hardly matters as Dirk has forced more than a few people to contemplate his ongoing awesomeness. Here, the Wall Street Journal writer does so (and also introduces this phrase into my future lexicon: “Tim Duncan’s House of Inoffensive South Texas Pleasantries”). A taste:
Nowitzki will never be rhapsodized as a silky NBA superstar–his game is too deliberate, methodical, result-driven. When he dribbles, you can practically hear him counting the bounces–1, 2, 3. He doesn’t so much drive the lane as lunge through it, and when he jerks backward for his patented fade-away one-leg jumper, he resembles a camp counselor teetering off a canoe. Though the Dirk shot itself is a beautiful thing–a high, slow crescent that appears to pause and admire itself before plunging through the net–it will never be celebrated like the game’s highflying. Nobody runs a highlight reel of “Tonight’s Most Exciting 16-foot Jumpers.”
I don’t know. I’d watch that show.
