For better or worse, Mark Cuban has been joined at the lip with Jerry Jones in this market ever since he bought the Mavs nearly 24 years ago. Together with Jerry they became the most bombastic pair of sports owners in one market anywhere, anytime, and we have the scars to prove it.
Besides an insatiable thirst for the spotlight, both ran their own circuses, making Ray Davis, the Rangers’ owner, seem like a recluse in comparison.
But, in selling a majority share of his beloved Mavs to the Adelson family of Las Vegas, Cuban is doing something Jerry would never do.
He’s getting out, slowly but surely.
The only question is why?
Cuban offered no explanation Tuesday for the stunning news. He was in his usual seat for the Mavs’ 121-115 win over the Rockets, within an arm’s reach of the Mavs’ bench, next to his longtime financial pal, Charlie McKinney. Just like old times. Like breaking national news had never happened. Even got up a couple times to vent.
But not a peep about selling.
A Mavs spokesman referred media “to the Adelson family for comment,” and it’s not hard to see why they’re interested. For one thing, Forbes ranks the Mavs as one of the NBA’s 10 most valuable franchises at $4.5 billion, which makes Cuban’s reported $2 billion cut after forking over $285 million in 2000 quite a windfall. But that’s just the start of it. Cuban made clear last year that he hoped to eventually partner with the Adelson family, which owns the Las Vegas Sands Corp., to build a new arena and casino adjacent to Dallas’ new convention center.
Only two problems at the moment: The Mavs’ lease with American Airlines Center doesn’t expire until 2031, and the state of Texas has yet to legalize gambling.
In bringing the Adelson family to the front lines, perhaps Cuban thinks the push to persuade lawmakers will bring different results. Miriam Adelson, widow of Sheldon Adelson, who built his $33 billion empire in Vegas, donated $1 million last year to Gov. Greg Abbott’s campaign, which is certainly a start.
But if recent history is any indication, casino gambling still has a long ways to go before it’s legalized in Texas, especially under the nose of the current lieutenant governor.
Maybe Cuban knows something about Dan Patrick that we don’t. Or maybe we don’t know everything that’s going on with Cuban.
Just this week, he announced that this next season of Shark Tank will be his last. He said it’s simply time, explaining that one daughter is in college; his other daughter and son, teenagers. He’d like to spend more time with his family, as any 65-year-old billionaire probably would.
Except Cuban has never seemed like any garden-variety billionaire. He never lost his hands-on approach, though his grip has loosened over the years. He’s not as visible as he once was. No longer pontificates from high atop his Stairmaster before games, which raises no complaints here. The access wasn’t worth the perspiration.
His incremental withdrawal also was evident in the fact that he has ceded some power to Nico Harrison, the first true general manager of his tenure.
Ask Donnie Nelson how much power he had with Cuban as his boss. That is, if you can find Donnie.
What makes this news so shocking is expressly because of Cuban’s management style and how much the sale contradicts everything we’ve learned since a broke kid from Pittsburgh drove to Dallas in a car with a hole in the floorboard to make his fortune. He’s been face-first ever since. He was such a micromanager at Broadcast.com, a former employee once told me, they used to come up with ways to divert his attention. When he bought the Mavs, he didn’t seal himself up in a mahogany-walled office. He sat smack dab in the center of the bullpen, making cold calls with the rest of the sales staff.
His fingerprints were all over everything, which made it a little hard to believe his explanations that he knew nothing of the sexual harassment problems on the business side of his organization.
The result of that public humiliation: the installation of Cynt Marshall as CEO, with the unforgettable image of Cuban, tail tucked between his legs, genuflecting at Marshall’s introductory presser.
Maybe Cuban’s just tired of it all and really wants to spend more time with family. Maybe we don’t know something about his health.
Maybe he invested a little too much into those Shark Tank deals.
Whatever the reason, the Mavs won’t be the same. The difference won’t be clear at first, and maybe not for the rest of this season. The story of this sale is that Cuban would remain governor and thus maintain operational control. But if you’re a minority owner, you’re not the boss. You serve at the pleasure of the person who has the biggest stake in the game, and for the first time in more than two decades, that’s no longer Cuban.
With the possible exception of Dirk Nowitzki, who was in the house Tuesday for the television broadcast, Cuban has been the face of the franchise. Just like the owner of the Cowboys. Except now it looks like Jerry will outlast him, God help us.
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