Alright, alright already. The Mavs have warmed my heart like someone who puts human hearts in microwaves. Before this season started, a friend of mine said that he was going to try to watch only the bigger Mavs games. This is a guy whose love of the Mavericks knows no bounds so fair-weather fan he is not. He said that it was more about not getting caught up in the WE MUST WIN EVERY GAME OF THE REGULAR SEASON trap, as I and most Mavs fans certainly did last season.

But beating the Spurs has changed my mind. Beating the Spurs is amazing. If the feeling of beating the Spurs could be obtained through using an illicit substance, I would be in rehab right alongside popular drive-time sports talk DJs and Marie Osmond's son. Every Mavs starting player contributed with Devin Harris, Jason Terry, Josh Howard and Dirk all taking turns with breakout quarters respectively. And Tony Parker's Le Spurs dug themselves into the deepest Black Périgord truffle hole of failure they have in recent memory.

It's a new NBA season but Manu Ginobli still makes the "time-ah to make-ah da pizzah!" face with alarming regularity.

I know everyone will go:

"It's too early to get excited!" - Jean-Jacques Taylor

or

"Really? Radio? Really? I sure would like to be back on the television. I wonder what Brad and Mark are talking about right now?" - Bob Ortegel

But I am excited. I like beating the Spurs. I know it's just an ego thing. But I'm not a Poindexter who carries around stat charts and a graphing calculator. I like seeing Tim Duncan lose. I guess I am a bad sport.

Meh.