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Deadspin | Mark Cuban reveals regret in sale of majority share of Mavericks

Deadspin | Mark Cuban reveals regret in sale of majority share of Mavericks

Jan 31, 2026; Los Angeles, California, USA; Mark Cuban walks off the court after the game between the UCLA Bruins and the Indiana Hoosiers at Pauley Pavilion presented by Wescom Financial. Mandatory Credit: Jayne Kamin-Oncea-Imagn Images

Mark Cuban said he has had a change of heart about selling his majority share of the Dallas Mavericks in December 2023.

Not about selling that share of the franchise, he said. Cuban’s regret centers around selling it to Miriam Adelson and her son-in-law, Patrick Dumont.

“I don’t regret selling,” Cuban said on an episode of the “Intersections” podcast. “I regret who I sold to. I made a lot of mistakes in the process, and I’ll leave it at that.”

Adelson, the controlling shareholder of the Las Vegas Sands, paid $3.5 billion for majority control of the Mavericks. Dumont now serves as the team’s governor.

Cuban, who still holds a 27% stake in the franchise, said at the time of the deal that “nothing really changes except my bank account.”

Cuban also noted the “big emotional commitment” of being a majority owner for his decision to sell his majority stake, in addition to thought of his children wanting to work for the team.

“My kids, they were coming of age where they would have the mindset that they want to work at the Mavs. I didn’t want them to,” he said. “If fans don’t like what you’re doing or the team’s not doing well, you’re the worst human being on the planet.”

Cuban, 67, held a majority stake in the Mavericks since January 2000. He purchased the team for $285 million.

The Mavericks (24-51) will miss the playoffs for the second straight year after reaching the NBA Finals in 2024.

–Field Level Media

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In sport, memory lives in numbers and often dominates discussions across eras. Scorecards eventually become history, though for many fans, they are much more.

Ardent baseball fans treat scorecards as precious collectibles, while cricket enthusiasts can swear by a legendary “ton” or a definitive “five-fer” in a specific Test match. Yet, truth often slips through the gaps, much like a cover drive imperiously threaded between point and mid-off.

Baseball offers a clinical verdict: a batter is retired, and the scorecard records the outcome with total indifference. It matters little whether a fielder hauls in the ball at full stretch in right field or if it settles comfortably into a waiting glove in centre. The act is completed, the moment fades, and the numbers move on—offering no room for the artistry of the effort.

A Lesson from the Hardwood

Basketball has always had an answer to this conundrum. For the Los Angeles Lakers, whenever Earvin “Magic” Johnson threaded a pass to Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, the finish was only half the act. The assist carried weight, etched into the record books as a vital statistic.

In basketball, the creator and the completer share the spotlight, ensuring that fans and history books alike acknowledge the setup as much as the score.

A case for the invisible assist — Why Cricket Needs an ‘Assist’ Column  In sport, memory lives in numbers and often dominates discussions across eras.  Scorecards eventually become history, though for many fans, they are much more.Ardent baseball fans treat scorecards as precious collectibles, while cricket enthusiasts can swear by a legendary “ton” or a definitive “five-fer” in a specific Test match. Yet, truth often slips through the gaps, much like a cover drive imperiously threaded between point and mid-off.Baseball offers a clinical verdict: a batter is retired, and the scorecard records the outcome with total indifference. It matters little whether a fielder hauls in the ball at full stretch in right field or if it settles comfortably into a waiting glove in centre. The act is completed, the moment fades, and the numbers move on—offering no room for the artistry of the effort.A Lesson from the HardwoodBasketball has always had an answer to this conundrum. For the Los Angeles Lakers, whenever Earvin “Magic” Johnson threaded a pass to Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, the finish was only half the act. The assist carried weight, etched into the record books as a vital statistic.In basketball, the creator and the completer share the spotlight, ensuring that fans and history books alike acknowledge the setup as much as the score.Brothers of destruction: Magic Johnson and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar formed one of the deadliest combinations in NBA, leading the attack for Los Angeles Lakers.
                                                            | Photo Credit: 
                                The Hindu Photo Library
                            Brothers of destruction: Magic Johnson and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar formed one of the deadliest combinations in NBA, leading the attack for Los Angeles Lakers.
                                                            | Photo Credit: 
                                The Hindu Photo Library
                                                    The Evolution of the GameStatisticians in cricket seemingly had a different idea. Perhaps pioneers like Bill Frindall, B.B. Mama, Anandji Dossa, and Sudhir Vaidya never anticipated the acrobatic artistry of a Suryakumar Yadav at the Kensington Oval in 2024 or a Shreyas Iyer in 2026.Cricket commentary celebrates the late swing and the diving stop; it applauds fielding brilliance with roars and endless replays. Yet, when the dust settles, the record often ignores this evolving dimension of the game. During a telecast, we are now accustomed to wagon wheels, Manhattan charts, and “the worm”—visual aids that add spice to an already well-made biryani—but the scorecard remains stubbornly static.The Wankhede MiracleA recent night at the Wankhede Stadium during the 2026 Indian Premier League (IPL) season provided a jarring reminder of this oversight. In the 24th match between the Punjab Kings and Mumbai Indians, the ball sailed toward the boundary in the 18th over. Shreyas Iyer produced a moment of pure theatre.Stationed at long-on, he sprinted to his left, launched himself into the air, and plucked the ball from the sky. Mid-flight, as gravity pulled him toward the rope, instinct took over. He flicked the ball back into play just as he crossed the boundary, where Xavier Bartlett completed the relay. Hardik Pandya was sent on his way, and the stadium erupted.Key architect: Shreyas Iyer did not really take the catch of Hardik Pandya, but he played the most significant role in the dismissal.
                                                            | Photo Credit: 
                                PTI
                            Key architect: Shreyas Iyer did not really take the catch of Hardik Pandya, but he played the most significant role in the dismissal.
                                                            | Photo Credit: 
                                PTI
                                                    Ask anyone who “took” that catch, and the name they say will be Iyer. Yet, look at the scorecard, and Iyer’s name is nowhere to be found. In the history books, he doesn’t even receive an asterisk for this breathtaking fusion of athleticism, awareness, and timing.Similarly, when a catch bursts from the grasp of a diving first-slip fielder and is safely completed by a teammate at second slip, the scorecard credits only the finisher, leaving the initial effort, often the defining act, without even a mention.A Call for ChangeThe typical line on a scorecard reads: “c Fielder b Bowler.” Even if a substitute or an “Impact Player” takes the catch, their name is recognised. But in a relay situation, the player who does the heavy lifting—the “creator”—is erased from the official narrative.Cricket has evolved in almost every other dimension. Technology provides mountains of data for batters, bowlers, and coaches, yet we lack the statistical language to preserve teamwork in motion. The boundary relay catch is the purest example of a collaborative effort; without the first player, the second does not exist. Cricket doesn’t lack appreciation for fielding; it lacks the language to preserve it. An assist column would change that.
                                                            | Photo Credit: 
                                AP
                            

                            Cricket doesn’t lack appreciation for fielding; it lacks the language to preserve it. An assist column would change that.
                                                            | Photo Credit: 
                                AP
                                                    Imagine a child twenty years from now speaking about their father’s legendary catch. They pull up the scorecard to prove it, only to find a name that isn’t his. What do they point to? The video might survive in fragments, but the numbers—sport’s most trusted storytellers—will remain silent.Cricket doesn’t lack appreciation for fielding; it lacks the language to preserve it. An assist column wouldn’t just change a statistic; it would honour the invisible hand that shapes the game’s most defining moments. In a sport that prides itself on detail, this is one detail that has waited long enough to be seen.Published on May 12, 2026  #case #invisible #assist #Cricket #Assist #Column

Brothers of destruction: Magic Johnson and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar formed one of the deadliest combinations in NBA, leading the attack for Los Angeles Lakers. | Photo Credit: The Hindu Photo Library

lightbox-info

Brothers of destruction: Magic Johnson and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar formed one of the deadliest combinations in NBA, leading the attack for Los Angeles Lakers. | Photo Credit: The Hindu Photo Library

The Evolution of the Game

Statisticians in cricket seemingly had a different idea. Perhaps pioneers like Bill Frindall, B.B. Mama, Anandji Dossa, and Sudhir Vaidya never anticipated the acrobatic artistry of a Suryakumar Yadav at the Kensington Oval in 2024 or a Shreyas Iyer in 2026.

Cricket commentary celebrates the late swing and the diving stop; it applauds fielding brilliance with roars and endless replays. Yet, when the dust settles, the record often ignores this evolving dimension of the game. During a telecast, we are now accustomed to wagon wheels, Manhattan charts, and “the worm”—visual aids that add spice to an already well-made biryani—but the scorecard remains stubbornly static.

The Wankhede Miracle

A recent night at the Wankhede Stadium during the 2026 Indian Premier League (IPL) season provided a jarring reminder of this oversight. In the 24th match between the Punjab Kings and Mumbai Indians, the ball sailed toward the boundary in the 18th over. Shreyas Iyer produced a moment of pure theatre.

Stationed at long-on, he sprinted to his left, launched himself into the air, and plucked the ball from the sky. Mid-flight, as gravity pulled him toward the rope, instinct took over. He flicked the ball back into play just as he crossed the boundary, where Xavier Bartlett completed the relay. Hardik Pandya was sent on his way, and the stadium erupted.

Key architect: Shreyas Iyer did not really take the catch of Hardik Pandya, but he played the most significant role in the dismissal.

Key architect: Shreyas Iyer did not really take the catch of Hardik Pandya, but he played the most significant role in the dismissal. | Photo Credit: PTI

lightbox-info

Key architect: Shreyas Iyer did not really take the catch of Hardik Pandya, but he played the most significant role in the dismissal. | Photo Credit: PTI

Ask anyone who “took” that catch, and the name they say will be Iyer. Yet, look at the scorecard, and Iyer’s name is nowhere to be found. In the history books, he doesn’t even receive an asterisk for this breathtaking fusion of athleticism, awareness, and timing.

Similarly, when a catch bursts from the grasp of a diving first-slip fielder and is safely completed by a teammate at second slip, the scorecard credits only the finisher, leaving the initial effort, often the defining act, without even a mention.

A Call for Change

The typical line on a scorecard reads: “c Fielder b Bowler.” Even if a substitute or an “Impact Player” takes the catch, their name is recognised. But in a relay situation, the player who does the heavy lifting—the “creator”—is erased from the official narrative.

Cricket has evolved in almost every other dimension. Technology provides mountains of data for batters, bowlers, and coaches, yet we lack the statistical language to preserve teamwork in motion. The boundary relay catch is the purest example of a collaborative effort; without the first player, the second does not exist.

Cricket doesn’t lack appreciation for fielding; it lacks the language to preserve it. An assist column would change that.

Cricket doesn’t lack appreciation for fielding; it lacks the language to preserve it. An assist column would change that. | Photo Credit: AP

lightbox-info

Cricket doesn’t lack appreciation for fielding; it lacks the language to preserve it. An assist column would change that. | Photo Credit: AP

Imagine a child twenty years from now speaking about their father’s legendary catch. They pull up the scorecard to prove it, only to find a name that isn’t his. What do they point to? The video might survive in fragments, but the numbers—sport’s most trusted storytellers—will remain silent.

Cricket doesn’t lack appreciation for fielding; it lacks the language to preserve it. An assist column wouldn’t just change a statistic; it would honour the invisible hand that shapes the game’s most defining moments. In a sport that prides itself on detail, this is one detail that has waited long enough to be seen.

Published on May 12, 2026

#case #invisible #assist #Cricket #Assist #Column">A case for the invisible assist — Why Cricket Needs an ‘Assist’ Column  In sport, memory lives in numbers and often dominates discussions across eras.  Scorecards eventually become history, though for many fans, they are much more.Ardent baseball fans treat scorecards as precious collectibles, while cricket enthusiasts can swear by a legendary “ton” or a definitive “five-fer” in a specific Test match. Yet, truth often slips through the gaps, much like a cover drive imperiously threaded between point and mid-off.Baseball offers a clinical verdict: a batter is retired, and the scorecard records the outcome with total indifference. It matters little whether a fielder hauls in the ball at full stretch in right field or if it settles comfortably into a waiting glove in centre. The act is completed, the moment fades, and the numbers move on—offering no room for the artistry of the effort.A Lesson from the HardwoodBasketball has always had an answer to this conundrum. For the Los Angeles Lakers, whenever Earvin “Magic” Johnson threaded a pass to Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, the finish was only half the act. The assist carried weight, etched into the record books as a vital statistic.In basketball, the creator and the completer share the spotlight, ensuring that fans and history books alike acknowledge the setup as much as the score.Brothers of destruction: Magic Johnson and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar formed one of the deadliest combinations in NBA, leading the attack for Los Angeles Lakers.
                                                            | Photo Credit: 
                                The Hindu Photo Library
                            Brothers of destruction: Magic Johnson and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar formed one of the deadliest combinations in NBA, leading the attack for Los Angeles Lakers.
                                                            | Photo Credit: 
                                The Hindu Photo Library
                                                    The Evolution of the GameStatisticians in cricket seemingly had a different idea. Perhaps pioneers like Bill Frindall, B.B. Mama, Anandji Dossa, and Sudhir Vaidya never anticipated the acrobatic artistry of a Suryakumar Yadav at the Kensington Oval in 2024 or a Shreyas Iyer in 2026.Cricket commentary celebrates the late swing and the diving stop; it applauds fielding brilliance with roars and endless replays. Yet, when the dust settles, the record often ignores this evolving dimension of the game. During a telecast, we are now accustomed to wagon wheels, Manhattan charts, and “the worm”—visual aids that add spice to an already well-made biryani—but the scorecard remains stubbornly static.The Wankhede MiracleA recent night at the Wankhede Stadium during the 2026 Indian Premier League (IPL) season provided a jarring reminder of this oversight. In the 24th match between the Punjab Kings and Mumbai Indians, the ball sailed toward the boundary in the 18th over. Shreyas Iyer produced a moment of pure theatre.Stationed at long-on, he sprinted to his left, launched himself into the air, and plucked the ball from the sky. Mid-flight, as gravity pulled him toward the rope, instinct took over. He flicked the ball back into play just as he crossed the boundary, where Xavier Bartlett completed the relay. Hardik Pandya was sent on his way, and the stadium erupted.Key architect: Shreyas Iyer did not really take the catch of Hardik Pandya, but he played the most significant role in the dismissal.
                                                            | Photo Credit: 
                                PTI
                            Key architect: Shreyas Iyer did not really take the catch of Hardik Pandya, but he played the most significant role in the dismissal.
                                                            | Photo Credit: 
                                PTI
                                                    Ask anyone who “took” that catch, and the name they say will be Iyer. Yet, look at the scorecard, and Iyer’s name is nowhere to be found. In the history books, he doesn’t even receive an asterisk for this breathtaking fusion of athleticism, awareness, and timing.Similarly, when a catch bursts from the grasp of a diving first-slip fielder and is safely completed by a teammate at second slip, the scorecard credits only the finisher, leaving the initial effort, often the defining act, without even a mention.A Call for ChangeThe typical line on a scorecard reads: “c Fielder b Bowler.” Even if a substitute or an “Impact Player” takes the catch, their name is recognised. But in a relay situation, the player who does the heavy lifting—the “creator”—is erased from the official narrative.Cricket has evolved in almost every other dimension. Technology provides mountains of data for batters, bowlers, and coaches, yet we lack the statistical language to preserve teamwork in motion. The boundary relay catch is the purest example of a collaborative effort; without the first player, the second does not exist. Cricket doesn’t lack appreciation for fielding; it lacks the language to preserve it. An assist column would change that.
                                                            | Photo Credit: 
                                AP
                            

                            Cricket doesn’t lack appreciation for fielding; it lacks the language to preserve it. An assist column would change that.
                                                            | Photo Credit: 
                                AP
                                                    Imagine a child twenty years from now speaking about their father’s legendary catch. They pull up the scorecard to prove it, only to find a name that isn’t his. What do they point to? The video might survive in fragments, but the numbers—sport’s most trusted storytellers—will remain silent.Cricket doesn’t lack appreciation for fielding; it lacks the language to preserve it. An assist column wouldn’t just change a statistic; it would honour the invisible hand that shapes the game’s most defining moments. In a sport that prides itself on detail, this is one detail that has waited long enough to be seen.Published on May 12, 2026  #case #invisible #assist #Cricket #Assist #Column

Deadspin | Jim Colbert, 35-time professional winner, dies at 85  May 13, 2006; Sandestin, FL, USA; Jim Colbert tees off on the 14th hole of the Raven course during the second round of the Boeing Championships at Sandestin. Mandatory Credit: Jason Parkhurst Copyright © 2006 Jason Parkhurst    Jim Colbert, an eight-time winner on the PGA Tour and a 35-time professional winner overall, died on Sunday at the age of 85.  From 1969 to 1983, Colbert won eight tournaments on the tour, earning two playoff victories (2-0) in the process. One of those came in 1983 — a high mark calendar year for Colbert, the only year he won two tournaments — against Fuzzy Zoeller in the Colonial National Invitation.  Constantly adorned in his signature bucket hat, Colbert made an even bigger splash on the senior circuit, earning 20 senior PGA tour wins over a 10-year span from 1991 to 2001.  On that hat, Colbert came to embrace his signature look, after finding that people wouldn’t recognize him without it.  “Lee Trevino has the sombrero. Jack Nicklaus has the bear,” Colbert said. “I have my hat.”   Born in New Jersey, Colbert played golf and football before earning a football scholarship to attend Kansas State University. Following an injury, Colbert re-dedicated himself to golf, finishing runner-up at the 1964 NCAA Championship. He turned professional shortly thereafter.   After his turn on the PGA Tour, Colbert served as a golf analyst on ESPN before re-entering the game on the PGA Tour Champions circuit. He was an instant success there, winning three times in 1991 to earn Rookie of the Year honors.  Colbert had a public battle with prostate cancer in the late 1990s, but he rebounded to win another tournament in 1998, which resulted in his being named Comeback Player of the Year.  His continued involvement with his alma mater led to a friendship with longtime Kansas State football coach Bill Snyder and the construction of a golf course named in his honor, Colbert Hills, located in Manhattan, Kan.   “Jim had a positive influence on many, many lives,” Snyder said. “He never failed to step up to help when he was in a position to help his community and people in need.”  Colbert has been enshrined in the Kansas State Athletic Hall of Fame, the Kansas Sports Hall of Fame and the Las Vegas Golf Hall of Fame, among other honors.  –Field Level Media    #Deadspin #Jim #Colbert #35time #professional #winner #diesMay 13, 2006; Sandestin, FL, USA; Jim Colbert tees off on the 14th hole of the Raven course during the second round of the Boeing Championships at Sandestin. Mandatory Credit: Jason Parkhurst Copyright © 2006 Jason Parkhurst

Jim Colbert, an eight-time winner on the PGA Tour and a 35-time professional winner overall, died on Sunday at the age of 85.

From 1969 to 1983, Colbert won eight tournaments on the tour, earning two playoff victories (2-0) in the process. One of those came in 1983 — a high mark calendar year for Colbert, the only year he won two tournaments — against Fuzzy Zoeller in the Colonial National Invitation.

Constantly adorned in his signature bucket hat, Colbert made an even bigger splash on the senior circuit, earning 20 senior PGA tour wins over a 10-year span from 1991 to 2001.

On that hat, Colbert came to embrace his signature look, after finding that people wouldn’t recognize him without it.

“Lee Trevino has the sombrero. Jack Nicklaus has the bear,” Colbert said. “I have my hat.”


Born in New Jersey, Colbert played golf and football before earning a football scholarship to attend Kansas State University. Following an injury, Colbert re-dedicated himself to golf, finishing runner-up at the 1964 NCAA Championship. He turned professional shortly thereafter.

After his turn on the PGA Tour, Colbert served as a golf analyst on ESPN before re-entering the game on the PGA Tour Champions circuit. He was an instant success there, winning three times in 1991 to earn Rookie of the Year honors.

Colbert had a public battle with prostate cancer in the late 1990s, but he rebounded to win another tournament in 1998, which resulted in his being named Comeback Player of the Year.

His continued involvement with his alma mater led to a friendship with longtime Kansas State football coach Bill Snyder and the construction of a golf course named in his honor, Colbert Hills, located in Manhattan, Kan.

“Jim had a positive influence on many, many lives,” Snyder said. “He never failed to step up to help when he was in a position to help his community and people in need.”

Colbert has been enshrined in the Kansas State Athletic Hall of Fame, the Kansas Sports Hall of Fame and the Las Vegas Golf Hall of Fame, among other honors.


–Field Level Media

#Deadspin #Jim #Colbert #35time #professional #winner #dies">Deadspin | Jim Colbert, 35-time professional winner, dies at 85  May 13, 2006; Sandestin, FL, USA; Jim Colbert tees off on the 14th hole of the Raven course during the second round of the Boeing Championships at Sandestin. Mandatory Credit: Jason Parkhurst Copyright © 2006 Jason Parkhurst    Jim Colbert, an eight-time winner on the PGA Tour and a 35-time professional winner overall, died on Sunday at the age of 85.  From 1969 to 1983, Colbert won eight tournaments on the tour, earning two playoff victories (2-0) in the process. One of those came in 1983 — a high mark calendar year for Colbert, the only year he won two tournaments — against Fuzzy Zoeller in the Colonial National Invitation.  Constantly adorned in his signature bucket hat, Colbert made an even bigger splash on the senior circuit, earning 20 senior PGA tour wins over a 10-year span from 1991 to 2001.  On that hat, Colbert came to embrace his signature look, after finding that people wouldn’t recognize him without it.  “Lee Trevino has the sombrero. Jack Nicklaus has the bear,” Colbert said. “I have my hat.”   Born in New Jersey, Colbert played golf and football before earning a football scholarship to attend Kansas State University. Following an injury, Colbert re-dedicated himself to golf, finishing runner-up at the 1964 NCAA Championship. He turned professional shortly thereafter.   After his turn on the PGA Tour, Colbert served as a golf analyst on ESPN before re-entering the game on the PGA Tour Champions circuit. He was an instant success there, winning three times in 1991 to earn Rookie of the Year honors.  Colbert had a public battle with prostate cancer in the late 1990s, but he rebounded to win another tournament in 1998, which resulted in his being named Comeback Player of the Year.  His continued involvement with his alma mater led to a friendship with longtime Kansas State football coach Bill Snyder and the construction of a golf course named in his honor, Colbert Hills, located in Manhattan, Kan.   “Jim had a positive influence on many, many lives,” Snyder said. “He never failed to step up to help when he was in a position to help his community and people in need.”  Colbert has been enshrined in the Kansas State Athletic Hall of Fame, the Kansas Sports Hall of Fame and the Las Vegas Golf Hall of Fame, among other honors.  –Field Level Media    #Deadspin #Jim #Colbert #35time #professional #winner #dies

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