DeAnna
Just A Face in The Crowd
Brothers in arms
Dirk, Nash take separate paths to carve stellar careers
Posted: Friday April 20, 2007 8:03PM;
For a magazine story on Steve Nash and Dirk Nowitzki, I recently spent time around both the Mavs and the Suns. Much of what I learned was to be expected. Nowitzki, for example, is such a gym rat that Avery Johnson has to threaten him with $1,000 fines so he doesn't come to the arena on off-days (says Nowitzki, "I pay a lot of fines"). On the Suns, Leandro Barbosa models himself after Nash to the point where he regularly takes home DVDs of his teammate ("I watch the DVD and then I watch again," says Barbosa, "to be more like Steve.").
There were, however, some surprises. One of the questions I asked of the Mavs and Suns players was which of the two -- Nash or Nowitzki -- they would choose to build a team around. The expected, and safe answer, is to praise one's teammate (as Devin Harris of the Mavs did, saying: "How do you not choose a seven-footer with an unstoppable fadeaway?"). Then there's the route chosen by Amare Stoudemire, the Suns center. Asked who he'd pick between the two, Stoudemire said: "Shaq."
Told this wasn't an option, Stoudemire then brought up Kobe Bryant. "Don't forget Kobe," said Stoudemire. "In the MVP talk, remember that Steve has three All-Stars and Dirk has two. Kobe has none."
Ignoring for a moment Stoudemire's curious math (apparently, Steve and Dirk count as All-Stars but Kobe does not), it is interesting that Stoudemire made an effort not to say Nash, the man some would argue is responsible for much of Stoudemire's success. Especially right before the playoffs are to begin, when chemistry is paramount. (Told of the comment, one member of the Suns said, "What do you expect from a guy who chooses a jersey number of one?").
For perspective, Stoudemire did answer this question a few weeks ago, when the Suns were in the midst of a swoon. Still, diplomacy is clearly not his strong suit (apparently, there is no D in STAT, some would argue in more ways than one).
Other observations about the two MVP front-runners as we head into the playoffs:
Despite Nash's success against the Mavericks, some Dallas players believe the make-him-shoot strategy is still the wisest. "He's just going to pass the ball," says Jerry Stackhouse. "He feels like if he's getting thirty points, it's almost too much. He's going to force passes, to the point where he can be baited into having a big turnover game just because he's going to pass the ball."
Nowitzki is figuring out how to lead. More than one Dallas player mentioned Nowitzki's penchant for yelling at teammates, something he used to do when he felt they weren't playing up to his standards. Now he's dialed that back. "He's a much better leader now," says Jason Terry. "In times of adversity, he picks guys up, whereas in the past he may have berated a teammate or really got on them and shown them up."
Nash often seems like he could have been your college buddy, if your college buddy went on to be an MVP.
This is a guy who, the year after winning the MVP, joined a pick-up game in Hudson River Park in the Bronx because he happened to be running by and, well, the fellas asked him to play. He's the guy who insists every endorsement deal he signs -- and he does not like to sign many -- has a charitable component (in a current, mildly dorky magazine ad for a watch company, look in the bottom right corner to see the Nash Foundation emblem). "He's a little weird," jibes Nowitzki. "Definitely a Greenpeace kind of guy."
In the magazine story, I recount a number of instances where he instigates impromptu competition among his friends (including an unusual bar crawl through Dallas). Here's one anecdote that didn't make the cut. During his Mavs years, Nash spent a lot of time hanging out with Al Whitley, a childhood friend who's now the Mavs equipment manager. One night, Whitley and another buddy showed up at Nash's place at 1 a.m. and began having a beer-fueled debate about who was faster. Nash decided the two should settle it right then, so he took them out to the street and marked off 100 meters, then pitted the two in a race (Whitley won). "Most competitive guy I know," says Whitley.
Nowitzki is getting better at it, but still hates dealing with his fame. Clearly, he'd be ecstatic if he never posed for another photo-shoot the rest of his life ("It takes four hours and I have to put on makeup," he laments. "I could be home reading a book or doing something else."). Another example: When he and Nash went to Nash's place to eat dinner and watch the Final Four the night before the April 1 Suns-Mavs game, Nash stopped at a grocery market to get food. Nowitzki then threw what Nash jokingly calls a "sh-tfit in the car" because he didn't want to deal with the public reaction that would ensue. "He said he wasn't going into the market," says Nash. "Of course, eventually he did. He just likes to complain."
Gregg Elkin, former head of media relations for the Mavericks and now a PR director for the Texas Rangers, remembers Nowitzki struggling with his celebrity early on. "Dirk was surprised people wanted to talk to him," says Elkin. "I remember his dad asking me what his son could do to avoid attention. All I could come up with was maybe he should sit down when in public, so he wasn't as obvious."
Nash takes the blame when he feels it is warranted. Suns coach Mike D'Antoni says Nash picks his spots to talk up. "After a tough loss, a couple times this season, Steve's come into the locker room and I'll be in the middle of talking to the team," says D'Antoni. "He'll say, 'Hey guys, I screwed this one up, I wasn't sharp tonight. It's on me. Let's do it next time.'"
But that doesn't mean it doesn't eat away at Nash.
There is an edge to Nash, it's just that he tries to contain it. You can see it when he occasionally gets a technical for yelling at a ref, as recently happened against the Warriors, or when he quietly stews in frustration over a selfish play by a teammate after a game. Good friend Randy Winn, the Giants outfielder who roomed with Nash at Santa Clara, says, "Steve's always been a little feisty." Nash says it's a matter of containment. "When I go home, I can shut it off," he says. "When I come in here, there's a fire in me that gets me frustrated and angry and challenges me to, I guess, stay composed. In general, under the surface, there are a lot more technicals. I'm just using that as an example. Under the surface, there's a lot more rage or frustration but I just learn to control it."
Earlier in his career, it wasn't frustration with teammates as much as figuring out his role. Especially during his first couple years in Dallas, when he was trying to fit in while battling injuries. "He overpassed," says Winn, who remains close with Nash (the two hung out this spring while Winn was in Scottsdale for spring training). "You could see it. He wouldn't even shoot ten-footers."
Says Nash: "Early in my career, I had a lot more anxiety. In Dallas for a while, I didn't know quite how to cope with that. Now, the last three years in particular, I've kind of worked through that. I have so much balance in my life off the court, even before I had kids, that I can let go of it for a few hours."
When he does become anxious, Nash says he copes by making a mental list of what he'll do the next day: when he'll get to the gym, when and how he'll lift, what he'll work on, whether it's shooting on the move or free throws.
Nowitzki is nowhere near as dour as his countenance might suggest.
This was a mild surprise, given Nowitzki's public persona (see here for a nice description of his 'dagger face.' "When I came over from the Lakers, I figured he'd be real serious and professional and buttoned-down," says Mavs reserve forward Devean George, signed as a free agent last summer. "But it turns out he's a total nutcase. He's trying to tell jokes all the time and a lot of times we need him to focus, so we have to tell him to focus, because otherwise he just goes down the line, talking with this guy, messing with this guy." George pauses, then adds: "But when that ball goes up, he's all business." As Mavs coach Del Harris, who calls Nowitzki a 'clown,' put it, "He knows when to take the red nose off."
Dirk, Nash take separate paths to carve stellar careers
Posted: Friday April 20, 2007 8:03PM;
For a magazine story on Steve Nash and Dirk Nowitzki, I recently spent time around both the Mavs and the Suns. Much of what I learned was to be expected. Nowitzki, for example, is such a gym rat that Avery Johnson has to threaten him with $1,000 fines so he doesn't come to the arena on off-days (says Nowitzki, "I pay a lot of fines"). On the Suns, Leandro Barbosa models himself after Nash to the point where he regularly takes home DVDs of his teammate ("I watch the DVD and then I watch again," says Barbosa, "to be more like Steve.").
There were, however, some surprises. One of the questions I asked of the Mavs and Suns players was which of the two -- Nash or Nowitzki -- they would choose to build a team around. The expected, and safe answer, is to praise one's teammate (as Devin Harris of the Mavs did, saying: "How do you not choose a seven-footer with an unstoppable fadeaway?"). Then there's the route chosen by Amare Stoudemire, the Suns center. Asked who he'd pick between the two, Stoudemire said: "Shaq."
Told this wasn't an option, Stoudemire then brought up Kobe Bryant. "Don't forget Kobe," said Stoudemire. "In the MVP talk, remember that Steve has three All-Stars and Dirk has two. Kobe has none."
Ignoring for a moment Stoudemire's curious math (apparently, Steve and Dirk count as All-Stars but Kobe does not), it is interesting that Stoudemire made an effort not to say Nash, the man some would argue is responsible for much of Stoudemire's success. Especially right before the playoffs are to begin, when chemistry is paramount. (Told of the comment, one member of the Suns said, "What do you expect from a guy who chooses a jersey number of one?").
For perspective, Stoudemire did answer this question a few weeks ago, when the Suns were in the midst of a swoon. Still, diplomacy is clearly not his strong suit (apparently, there is no D in STAT, some would argue in more ways than one).
Other observations about the two MVP front-runners as we head into the playoffs:
Despite Nash's success against the Mavericks, some Dallas players believe the make-him-shoot strategy is still the wisest. "He's just going to pass the ball," says Jerry Stackhouse. "He feels like if he's getting thirty points, it's almost too much. He's going to force passes, to the point where he can be baited into having a big turnover game just because he's going to pass the ball."
Nowitzki is figuring out how to lead. More than one Dallas player mentioned Nowitzki's penchant for yelling at teammates, something he used to do when he felt they weren't playing up to his standards. Now he's dialed that back. "He's a much better leader now," says Jason Terry. "In times of adversity, he picks guys up, whereas in the past he may have berated a teammate or really got on them and shown them up."
Nash often seems like he could have been your college buddy, if your college buddy went on to be an MVP.
This is a guy who, the year after winning the MVP, joined a pick-up game in Hudson River Park in the Bronx because he happened to be running by and, well, the fellas asked him to play. He's the guy who insists every endorsement deal he signs -- and he does not like to sign many -- has a charitable component (in a current, mildly dorky magazine ad for a watch company, look in the bottom right corner to see the Nash Foundation emblem). "He's a little weird," jibes Nowitzki. "Definitely a Greenpeace kind of guy."
In the magazine story, I recount a number of instances where he instigates impromptu competition among his friends (including an unusual bar crawl through Dallas). Here's one anecdote that didn't make the cut. During his Mavs years, Nash spent a lot of time hanging out with Al Whitley, a childhood friend who's now the Mavs equipment manager. One night, Whitley and another buddy showed up at Nash's place at 1 a.m. and began having a beer-fueled debate about who was faster. Nash decided the two should settle it right then, so he took them out to the street and marked off 100 meters, then pitted the two in a race (Whitley won). "Most competitive guy I know," says Whitley.
Nowitzki is getting better at it, but still hates dealing with his fame. Clearly, he'd be ecstatic if he never posed for another photo-shoot the rest of his life ("It takes four hours and I have to put on makeup," he laments. "I could be home reading a book or doing something else."). Another example: When he and Nash went to Nash's place to eat dinner and watch the Final Four the night before the April 1 Suns-Mavs game, Nash stopped at a grocery market to get food. Nowitzki then threw what Nash jokingly calls a "sh-tfit in the car" because he didn't want to deal with the public reaction that would ensue. "He said he wasn't going into the market," says Nash. "Of course, eventually he did. He just likes to complain."
Gregg Elkin, former head of media relations for the Mavericks and now a PR director for the Texas Rangers, remembers Nowitzki struggling with his celebrity early on. "Dirk was surprised people wanted to talk to him," says Elkin. "I remember his dad asking me what his son could do to avoid attention. All I could come up with was maybe he should sit down when in public, so he wasn't as obvious."
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Nash takes the blame when he feels it is warranted. Suns coach Mike D'Antoni says Nash picks his spots to talk up. "After a tough loss, a couple times this season, Steve's come into the locker room and I'll be in the middle of talking to the team," says D'Antoni. "He'll say, 'Hey guys, I screwed this one up, I wasn't sharp tonight. It's on me. Let's do it next time.'"
But that doesn't mean it doesn't eat away at Nash.
There is an edge to Nash, it's just that he tries to contain it. You can see it when he occasionally gets a technical for yelling at a ref, as recently happened against the Warriors, or when he quietly stews in frustration over a selfish play by a teammate after a game. Good friend Randy Winn, the Giants outfielder who roomed with Nash at Santa Clara, says, "Steve's always been a little feisty." Nash says it's a matter of containment. "When I go home, I can shut it off," he says. "When I come in here, there's a fire in me that gets me frustrated and angry and challenges me to, I guess, stay composed. In general, under the surface, there are a lot more technicals. I'm just using that as an example. Under the surface, there's a lot more rage or frustration but I just learn to control it."
Earlier in his career, it wasn't frustration with teammates as much as figuring out his role. Especially during his first couple years in Dallas, when he was trying to fit in while battling injuries. "He overpassed," says Winn, who remains close with Nash (the two hung out this spring while Winn was in Scottsdale for spring training). "You could see it. He wouldn't even shoot ten-footers."
Says Nash: "Early in my career, I had a lot more anxiety. In Dallas for a while, I didn't know quite how to cope with that. Now, the last three years in particular, I've kind of worked through that. I have so much balance in my life off the court, even before I had kids, that I can let go of it for a few hours."
When he does become anxious, Nash says he copes by making a mental list of what he'll do the next day: when he'll get to the gym, when and how he'll lift, what he'll work on, whether it's shooting on the move or free throws.
Nowitzki is nowhere near as dour as his countenance might suggest.
This was a mild surprise, given Nowitzki's public persona (see here for a nice description of his 'dagger face.' "When I came over from the Lakers, I figured he'd be real serious and professional and buttoned-down," says Mavs reserve forward Devean George, signed as a free agent last summer. "But it turns out he's a total nutcase. He's trying to tell jokes all the time and a lot of times we need him to focus, so we have to tell him to focus, because otherwise he just goes down the line, talking with this guy, messing with this guy." George pauses, then adds: "But when that ball goes up, he's all business." As Mavs coach Del Harris, who calls Nowitzki a 'clown,' put it, "He knows when to take the red nose off."
