Dirk Nowitzki and the Player I Never Stopped Loving

This piece was originally written in April 2019, after Dirk Nowitzki announced his retirement. Seven years later, the memories – and the emotions – haven’t changed much.

My brother had gone to bed. My father was trying to get some sleep in the bedroom. My mother was dozing on the couch.

Everyone was asleep – or trying to be.

Everyone except me.

I couldn’t close my eyes for a second. Yugoslavia was about to play the United States in Indianapolis. How was I supposed to sleep?

I did try. Honestly, I did.

But something wouldn’t let me.

So I turned on the TV and waited for one of the earlier quarterfinals to begin. On one side were Pau Gasol, Juan Carlos Navarro and Jorge Garbajosa. On the other, a 24-year-old NBA star carrying an entire team almost by himself.

Until that night, I had respected Dirk Nowitzki. Most of the time, I had even rooted against him because of Peja Stojaković, Vlade Divac and their Sacramento Kings.

That night, I fell in love with Dirk.

I still don’t know how I had somehow missed the elegance of his movement, his ability to use even a millimeter of space to get a shot off, the sheer ease with which he played basketball.

He scored 20 points against Spain and took Germany into the semifinals.

And until about 15 minutes before USA–Yugoslavia tipped off, I couldn’t stop thinking about Dirk.

A Strange Kind of Basketball Love

That was the beginning of a great love between the two of us – although I’m not entirely sure Dirk ever felt the same way.

It was a strange relationship.

I would still argue with friends that Peja was better, even though deep down I knew I was lying to myself.

And of course I still rooted for Sacramento whenever the Kings played Dallas.

But I could never really be upset when Dirk pulled up for a transition three, knocked down a free throw with that unmistakable stance or caught the ball at the high post.

You knew what usually came next.

As Nowitzki continued to grow as a player, more and more stories emerged about his work ethic and those legendary, innovative training sessions with his mentor, Holger Geschwindner.

Meanwhile, back on the concrete courts of Block 70 in New Belgrade, I practiced two moves over and over again.

Peja’s step-back.

And Dirk’s face-up, pivot, side-step and jumper.

Still, I can’t say Dirk was particularly high on my mind heading into EuroBasket 2005.

Serbia and Montenegro had a loaded roster, clearly the strongest on paper at that tournament, and we expected gold in Belgrade Arena.

We all know what happened.

Željko Obradović’s team crashed out in Novi Sad, a lot of ugly things surfaced afterward, and Serbian basketball was in shock.

But my entire family had tickets for the games in Belgrade all the way through the final.

And nothing heals basketball sadness quite like basketball itself.

Especially when one particular player is around to reignite the fire.

With what we in Serbia jokingly call a “group of citizens” around him – essentially a bunch of role players – Dirk somehow dragged Germany all the way to the final.

He scored 22 against Slovenia in the quarterfinals. I remember his teammates helping him out a little that night because he wasn’t quite at his best.

Then came the game that permanently cemented him as my favorite basketball player.

Spain again.

Dirk again.

Twenty-seven points.

And the game-winner I still watch from time to time, preferably with the German commentary.

That one possession somehow captured almost everything Dirk Nowitzki represented as a basketball player.

Germany down one.

Fifteen seconds left.

Dirk inbounded the ball and sort of jogged toward the other end.

Well, he wasn’t actually jogging. With Dirk, it just always looked that way.

He caught the ball beyond the three-point line, moved toward the wing, got Garbajosa to bite on the fake and calmly buried the jumper.

Germany were going to the final.

Composure. Responsibility when everything was on the line. And a shot so difficult to bother that the defender often seemed almost irrelevant.

All of it packed into a few precious seconds.

The Night Belgrade Stood Up for Dirk

Greece were too strong in the final.

But what happened late in that game is something I’ve written and talked about countless times.

Even now, every time I think about it, I get chills.

The result had already been decided when Nowitzki checked out of the game.

And then, almost like a scene from a theater, the entire arena rose.

The entire arena stood to applaud basketball itself.

Even the huge number of Greek fans inside Belgrade Arena joined in.

I remember feeling both joy and pride, and knowing immediately that I was witnessing something special.

Dirk later said in an interview that it was one of the most cherished moments of his career.

I vaguely remember him calling it the most cherished moment, although I’ve never been able to find that interview again.

From then on, I followed his career with something close to religious devotion.

I dug up stories from his early days in Würzburg. I studied his workouts. I watched and rewatched his highlights.

And there was plenty to discover.

Training sessions accompanied by classical music. Pirouettes. Stories from teammates about how he practically lived in the gym.

All those little details somehow combined two seemingly contradictory versions of the same man.

On one hand, completely normal. Ordinary, even.

On the other, an eccentric in his own way – as every genius tends to be.

Loyalty, Patience and 2011

You could see all of it on the court. The numbers and the footage are there for anyone who wants them.

But as the years passed, Dirk increasingly won me over with what he did away from basketball.

First and foremost, there was his loyalty to Dallas.

He repeatedly took less money to give the organization more room to build around him.

And perhaps even more impressive was the patience he showed through some questionable decisions – breaking up the Nash–Finley–Nowitzki trio too easily, then dismantling the championship team after 2011, partly because of the unfortunate timing of the lockout.

I think people sometimes forget just how far Dirk carried Dallas in 2006.

That team came within touching distance of the championship against Miami. Dwyane Wade and company may have received a little help from the officials along the way, but that’s ancient history now.

Dirk knew only one response.

Work.

Patient, relentless work.

Five years later came the sweetest possible revenge, against Miami’s newly formed superteam.

That was the series in which Rick Carlisle found ways to expose LeBron James’ weaknesses, while Dirk played his own version of a basketball simultaneous exhibition.

He was named Finals MVP.

Across that entire postseason, Nowitzki averaged 27.7 points while shooting 46 percent from three.

They say efficiency usually drops in the playoffs.

Sometimes it did for Dirk too.

But far more often, he found a way to become even better when the stakes rose – more focused, more composed.

Most basketball fans have had players they loved but never completely trusted when the game tightened up.

Dirk fans never lost much sleep over that.

When Your Hero Really Is Your Hero

Away from the court, Nowitzki was everything you would want from a role model.

A family man who went through his career without scandal, yet remained charismatic and genuinely funny.

The love Dallas had for him was proof enough – and I don’t mean only people connected directly to basketball.

Anyone who followed him on social media also got to know the dry humor, the self-deprecation and the gentle irony that revealed another layer of his personality.

There’s something particularly bitter about discovering that a childhood hero is nothing like the person you imagined him to be.

I was fortunate enough to hear a story from a friend that suggested Dirk really was pretty close to the man I had imagined.

My friend had been around him socially a few times. They weren’t close. They certainly weren’t friends.

Some time passed.

My friend was sitting with a girl on their first date somewhere in Dallas when he heard a voice behind him:

“Hey Serbia, come join us!”

It was Dirk, inviting the two of them over for a drink.

It wasn’t a grand gesture. Just a normal thing for a normal person to do.

But somehow, those are often the things that tell you the most.

Do I need to add that the date went pretty well for my friend?

Germany Always Came Calling

Dirk’s loyalty wasn’t limited to the Mavericks.

He gave everything he had to the German national team as well.

Like Gasol, Navarro and a handful of others from that era, he rarely skipped major tournaments over a career that lasted more than two decades.

He set quite a standard for those who always seem to find something more important to do once summer arrives.

Nowitzki was almost always coming off an NBA playoff run.

He almost always carried the heaviest possible load for Dallas.

Then summer arrived, and he picked up an even bigger one for Germany.

The bronze medal in Indianapolis and the silver in Belgrade were the only major medals he won with the national team.

In a way, that makes his commitment even more beautiful.

More human.

More real.

He retired from international basketball in January 2016, just a few months short of his 38th birthday.

The Numbers, If You Really Need Them

This was never meant to be a story about statistics.

But if you want the numbers, there are plenty.

NBA MVP in 2007.

NBA champion in 2011.

Four All-NBA First Team selections, five more on the Second Team.

Sixth on the NBA’s all-time scoring list when he retired.

Fourteen All-Star selections.

One of only a handful of players ever to produce a 50–40–90 season.

Thirteen seasons averaging more than 20 points per game.

But Dirk was bigger than the résumé.

He became one of those players who leave the game searching for “the next one” for years, sometimes decades.

And he opened doors that might otherwise have remained closed for every tall European player who looked even remotely like him.

Only years later did many people also learn about another part of his legacy – the annual holiday visits “Uncle Dirk” quietly made to children’s hospitals throughout his career.

No cameras required.

The Goodbye I Didn’t Want

Watching him struggle physically during that final season was painful.

There were nights when I said out loud that it didn’t make sense anymore, that he should retire.

And yet, somewhere inside, I was still hoping he would find enough strength and desire for one more year.

Maybe he would have.

His body simply wouldn’t allow it.

And so, on April 9, 2019, against Phoenix, Dirk finally said goodbye to his people in Dallas.

The ceremony was deeply emotional.

At one point, he cried.

So did plenty of people watching.

I spent that entire next morning with a lump in my throat.

Maybe that’s exactly why we love sports so much – because someone we’ve never met can make us feel something this deeply personal.

I remember having this strange whirlwind in my stomach that morning.

I knew I was supposed to wait until a colleague arrived at noon before writing the story.

I couldn’t.

The words were already pouring out.

When I finished that original farewell to Dirk, I was satisfied.

And yet it still felt incomplete.

As if something was missing.

As if I hadn’t quite managed to put into words what I actually wanted to say.

And then I understood.

Some things simply cannot be fully captured in words. They remain elusive even when they seem close enough to touch.

Just like Dirk Nowitzki was for defenders his entire career.

Enjoy retirement, Dirk.

Thank you.

And if we ever get the chance to sit down one-on-one, maybe I can finally cross No. 1 off my bucket list.