The B-Side: Dirk Nowitzki and the Hook Shot That Never Was

The B-Side is a recurring feature here at Bleacher Report that gives kudos to the unheralded: the brilliantly executed set that leads to a bland layup, the swarming coverage that causes a shot clock violation or even the phenomenal move that ends with a blown finish. Every night in the NBA is filled with plays that are noteworthy for a wide variety of reasons, and this space is set aside to enjoy the alternatives to the standard highlight—one clip at a time.

Dirk Nowitzki is and has always been—so long as NBA audiences have known him, anyway—a man of gradual gains. He never really made "the leap" so much as he rectified his weaknesses systematically. Every offseason was a chance to better himself as a player and better equip himself in light of his most recent downfall, however tragic or incidental it might have been. 

When Nowitzki was exploited defensively early in his career, he developed a few handy defensive counters. When a smaller, quicker opponent gave him trouble, he spent his summer focused on improving his back-down technique to gain more favorable post position. When the Golden State Warriors famously toppled his Mavs in the 2007 playoffs, Dirk took some time off to center himself, but then went to work on reading double teams.

Nowitzki is a player who knows who he is and who he wants to be, and even more importantly: he actually has the work ethic to get there. Dirk is as gym ratty as they come, and though his training regimen may be bafflingly unconventional, who could possibly argue with the results?

Yet out of all of Nowitzki's specifically targeted improvements, one consistently seemed to elude him. Back in the days when Dirk wasn't allowed to be Dirk—when columnists called for him to "toughen up," and pundits taunted him for not functioning like a traditional, back-to-the-basket big man—Nowitzki claimed to be fashioning a hook shot.

It was a pragmatic response, both to Nowitzki's basketball reality and the ridiculous skeptics he faced. At the time, he had needed a weapon that could specifically exploit his size advantage over the rangy athletes who had often been asked to cover him; Nowitzki's jumper was as true as ever, but the notion that he could be checked with smaller, peskier defenders could not go unpunished.

So Nowitzki went to work on his hook shot...only to continue to attack smaller defenders in his conventionally unconventional ways once the season finally began; he would work his defender deeper into the post than before, but rather than unveil some Hakeem-like projection of his interior scoring splendor, Nowitzki would spin and fade, as per usual. The results were a bit different, but the entire process was very much the same.

Maybe Nowitzki just never felt all that comfortable with the hook's execution. Perhaps the opportunities to trigger the move really were that limited in the context of where Nowitzki liked to operate on the floor. All we know for sure is that Nowitzki dedicated his time to this improvement as he had all others, but it would make only make the bare minimum of appearances—a make or miss every once in awhile, just as a reminder that it was still in his arsenal.

It offered no panacea for the nagging criticisms Nowitzki faced and it failed to serve a practical purpose as common pest control. But this particular footnote of Nowitzki's development was buried under layers and layers of more pressing matters, only to be unearthed for a regular blip appearance on Media Day; year after year, Nowitzki was supposedly working on—among other things—his largely unused hook. 

The subplot never really rose to prominence because it was never all that important in the first place; that hook was but a bit piece of an expansive arsenal—one that represented both Nowitzki's whimsical diversion from his own personal norm and the expectations thrust upon him by years of basketball orthodoxy. 

One could choose to view the move itself in any which way, but when Nowitzki reeled off three successful sweeping hooks in Monday night's game—a relatively inconsequential regular-season affair almost a year removed from his greatest basketball triumph—I could only meet such an unexpected outburst with a chuckle.

It took years of sweat and tears and alleged failures to finally push Nowitzki to the mountain top -- but it never took that damned hook shot.