Don't Stop Believin'
Luka Dončić returns to a place he used to call home
Don't stop believin'
Hold on
Streetlights, people
Don't stop believin'
Hold on to that feelin'
Streetlights, people
The Mavericks were down 3–0 in the NBA Finals and probably nobody inside the packed American Airlines Center truly believed they had a chance to turn it around against the Boston Celtics, despite an impressive Game 4 stand and a 122–84 blowout that briefly revived hope. During one of the timeouts, Don't Stop Believin’ by Journey was blasting from the AAC speakers, with fans going crazy during the final chorus sing-along.
Watching the crowd having a blast from the media section at the top of the arena, I couldn’t help but smile. Despite not making it over the final hurdle, it felt like everyone was having a great time. This team wasn’t supposed to be here in the first place. But the journey, the connection, and the memories they built along the way—the love between the stars and the city—was something special. Luka Dončić yelling at Rudy Gobert after sinking the dagger step-back. Kyrie Irving ending the Clippers’ hopes and P.J. Tucker’s career with unbelievable handles. P.J. Washington standing on business. Dereck Lively II’s first career three from the corner in the Finals. The bond grew with every moment, and the belief was they’d be back on this stage soon.
That moment, that feelin’ is one of the best experiences I’ve had in my sports life, and it’s why the song has remained a favorite. Every time I hear it, it brings back the mood and memories of that night in Dallas, a city I grew to love, no matter everything that’s happened since.
Ten months later, the dream is gone.
Luka Dončić is no longer a Maverick. The team is no longer a contender. And the belief that carried this city, this team, and its fans through the improbable Finals run has vanished.
What remains is a memory. A song. And a man returning to a place he once called home. A place that a small-town kid from Slovenia embraced as his own, chasing his dreams. A place that loved the kid back unconditionally. A city that never stopped believin’ they would fulfill their dreams together, despite his faults. The faults made him human, one of them. One of us.
Ten months later, Luka Dončić will be back in Dallas as a Laker because one man stopped believin’.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
I was supposed to be writing a game preview for a Mavericks–Lakers matchup. Rotations. Tons of geeky data. Details on schemes. Just like I did for every game—until the trade happened. Instead, this is probably the most awkward game I can remember. Not just for Luka, who still looks visibly uncomfortable whenever he talks about the game and potential closure, but also for me, covering it. I would much rather be writing about the game. About the clash of styles. About two teams evolving in completely opposite directions. One, deprived of big men but loaded with ball-handlers, shot creation, and three-point firepower. The other, built around a plethora of bigs, trying to overwhelm opponents with size and an inside-the-arc game.
To be honest, despite obviously being biased toward Luka, and despite hoping the Lakers can win two of their remaining three games to lock in the number three seed, I don’t care much about the result of this game.
What I really want is to see Luka embraced by the city, by the fans, by the countless great people I’ve had the chance to meet—on X, here on this beautiful platform, and even in person in Dallas. I’m lucky, and I truly appreciate that I can even call many of them friends.
I see fans hoping Luka comes out and scores 60 to stick it to and further embarrass the management and ownership that took their hope away. All I want is for this awkward game to be over. Like Luka, I’ve uncomfortably moved on. And truthfully, I even enjoy watching him play as a Laker, next to his childhood idol, on what’s probably the biggest stage in the basketball world. I’m even intrigued by what comes next for this new version of the Mavericks, built around Anthony Davis and Kyrie Irving.
But I don’t want closure. All I want is for my last memory of Luka in Dallas to be that moment under the ceiling of the AAC, where we didn’t stop believin’.
You’re the best Iztok. As a life long Mavs fan (40+ years) I wish that none of this ever happened, obviously. I thought we’d be reading your Mavs content for another decade.
Great piece Iztok. I was at the game last night and it’s hard to describe how weird it was. It’s crazy that 6 years prior on the same night we shed tears for a different reason as we celebrated Dirk’s career in his last home game. How different things are now. I cheered every time Luka touched the ball and felt nothing when the Mavs did anything and yelled “Fire Nico” along with everyone else the entire night. While I’ll never get over the trade, I got a little closure and expressed my gratitude to Luka at the last Mavs game I’ll attend for I don’t know how long.