(An abridged version of the re­cent ‘General Admission’ column at Sunday PUNCH, Dagupan City, Pangasinan)
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THE story was not that the Dal­las Mavericks won the 2011 NBA Finals. That Dirk Nowitzki powered the Mavs to a 4-2 victory over the Miami Heat in the best-of-seven playoffs. That Dallas owner, the eccentric Mark Cuban, finally achieved his dream of giving the Mavs a first NBA title in 31 years.

The story is that the Mavericks had a great coach in Rick Carl­isle, who hammered in every Mav mind the value of camaraderie, the bigness of heart and the won­ders of teamwork.

The story is that Nowitzki would be nothing, would not have won the MVP Finals Award, without the stupendous help his teammates had showered on him throughout the entire series.

“My team carried me that’s why I finally own an NBA ring,” said the 7-foot-flat Nowitzki from Wurzburg, Germany, a 10-time All-Star, after nailing the NBA title in 13 years of NBA play. “With­out them, I wouldn’t be where I am now.” “Them” would include Jason Terry, J.J. Barea, Jason Kidd, De-Shawn Stevenson, Brian Cardinal, Tyson Chandler and the entire Dallas crew, actually.

Where Nowitzki is now is that he’s on top of the world. “It’s amazing,” he said. “I had dreamed of this one day and I thought I wouldn’t achieve it. It’s just incredible.” He had caught a glimpse of the NBA championship ring the first time when, in 2006, he shoved the Mavericks to a 2-0 lead over the Miami Heat in that year’s NBA Finals.

But disaster struck when the Heat scorched Nowitzki and his pals with a 4-0 sweep in the next four games for a 4-2 Miami vic­tory.

Nowitzki was badly shaken from that nightmare, especially when the Heat clinched the tour­nament-winning Game 6 right on their territory in Dallas.

But still, after recovering his poise, Nowitzki told Cuban: “If I re-sign my contract with you, I want all my teammates to be with me again.”

Cuban agreed and the rest, as we love to say, is history. With a similar 4-2 victory scored by Dallas to pocket a first ever NBA crown – in Miami – it was redemption, if not vindica­tion, at its sweetest for Nowitzki – and the entire Mavs organiza­tion, of course. But before I forget, the story also of that sweet Dallas triumph was that a guy named LeBron James had a hand in it. A major
one, I tell you.

Heavily expected to play his vaunted superstar status to the hilt, James choked in the series after powering the Heat to a 2- 1 lead, scoring only 8 points in Game 4 as the Mavs tied it at 2-2, and then tossing in a mere basket in the fifth quarter of Game 5 as Dallas moved ahead, 3-2.

In the crucial Game 6, James again faltered, paving the way for the Mavs’ title-wrapping 105-95 victory.
Actually, LeBron James was the real story in the Finals.

For all his much-ballyhooed scoring prowess, LeBron James scored only a total of 16 points in all the six fourth quarters of the series – a mere two points per quarter in six games.

You call that the point produc­tion of a certified NBA star – and a two-time MVP of the NBA at that?
You tell me.
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McIlroy new toast of golf world
(The following is also basically lifted from my ‘General Admis­sion’ piece at Sunday PUNCH)
LET’S go to golf, my game since 1985.
I used to play it daily, except Sunday, my Washington Day (I wash clothes, you know, if you know what I mean. A good exer­cise, as it prevents the onslaught of frozen shoulders.) But all good things end. And I would soon play golf only once a week. (Sunday as Washing­ton Day has remained a chore, though, if not a hobby.) But if Rey Fortaleza is in town from a break from his Vancouver base in Canada, I get to play golf with him at least twice a week. If he wants me to take my day off on Sundays for my Washington Day, I oblige wholeheartedly.
What are friends for?
So, when are you visiting again, Rey?
I can’t wait for your return, buddy.
Golf is, indeed, expensive. Playing it everyday would really hurt your budget, especially if you employ a caddy while playing. Golf would also tend to make you forget work. You don’t work, you don’t eat.
It’s the money that I don’t have all of the time since I left the In­quirer five years back.
Jun Velasco, the poet masquer­ading as a columnist, knows that. Gonz Duque, too, I guess. Also Jess Garcia, the living legend of road race cycling.

Anyway, let’s zero in now on Rory McIlroy, the latest toast of world golf. McIlroy has just won the US Open. He is one month past 22 years, making him the youngest to win the US Open since Bobby Jones did it in 1923.

In winning, McIlroy also be­came the youngest winner of a major since Tiger Woods won the
Masters in 1997 at age 21. McIlroy’s 16-under-par total was also a record as it broke Ti­ger Woods’s 12-under when Tiger won the 2000 US Open at Pebble Beach in California. With McIlroy’s four sub-par rounds at Congressional Country Club at Bethesda, Maryland, he became one of only five winners to achieve that in the last 111 years of the US Open. To cut the long story short, McIlroy’s performance in winning the US Open deserves a second look. For one, he did it after his monumental collapse in April at the Masters, the first of four ma­jors for the year, where he shot a horrendous 80 in the last round after being ahead by four shots after three rounds.

For another, he stumbled anew in his next tournament, seeming­ly not being able to deal with the Masters debacle that fast. But his demons appeared to have been wiped out following his US Open victory, since his wire­to-wire finish attested to his flaw­less 72-hole mastery of the game. His 268 total was an all-time best in any major.

Now, they are saying a star is born. Forget in the meantime Tiger Woods, who didn’t play in the last US Open to recover from his knee injury and an Achilles tendon. Make way for the new kid in town.