At the end of the first half, the Mavericks held a commanding 58–44 lead, up by 14 points. Nowitzki was in surprisingly sharp form, repeatedly calling out the Kings' big men for one-on-one post plays.
The veteran still had plenty of fuel in the tank, almost single-handedly holding off the Kings' interior. But when the third quarter began, Nowitzki—resting on the bench—noticed the Kings' new lineup, froze for a moment, then exchanged a glance with Coach Carlisle.
To start the third quarter, the Kings sent in almost their entire bench—not the usual Jokić and Mozgov twin-tower combo, but a one-big, four-small lineup of Jokić, LaVine, Bojan, Ray, and Ben.
"What are they trying to run here?" Carlisle's brow furrowed.
He found out soon enough. The Kings had essentially abandoned the paint. Four shooters swirled around the arc, constantly relocating off Jokić's pick-and-rolls until someone popped free. LaVine spotted an opening and zipped a pass to Ben on the outside. Ben caught it in stride, didn't even pause, and launched a three.
Swish!
The ball dropped cleanly through. The moment Ben released it, the other four players had already turned and sprinted back on defense, completely unconcerned about whether it went in.
On the next play, Parsons tried to take Bojan one-on-one, but Jokić's help defense forced a miss. As soon as Jokić grabbed the rebound, four teammates exploded up the floor, with only LaVine waiting near half court for the outlet.
Jokić read it instantly, fired to LaVine, who in turn hit the streaking Ray. Felton, the Mavericks' backup guard, had already retreated to the basket and was locked on Ray, but in a flash the ball whipped to Bojan in the corner.
Bojan rose and fired. Felton, still in the paint, could only watch it drop.
Less than a minute into the third quarter, the Kings' bench had rattled off a quick 6–0 run.
"This is… the Moreyball tactic?" Carlisle's eyes widened.
Of course, he knew it well. Since Don Nelson pioneered run-and-gun, Mike D'Antoni had taken it to the extreme with his Moreyball philosophy—minimizing post play and maximizing perimeter looks through relentless ball movement and off-ball relocation.
It was exactly what Chen Yilun had quietly mentioned to Malone at halftime. Technically, team managers weren't supposed to interfere with a coach's in-game decisions, but with his close relationship to Malone, Yilun had casually planted the idea—and Malone had subconsciously bought in.
If the Kings ran Moreyball, Yilun's Three-Point Boost Card could reach its full potential. The key was keeping the shooters hot, and the Boost Card was the perfect piece of the puzzle.
Outside, November in Dallas was bitterly cold, but inside the arena the air felt heavy, almost humid, as the Kings unleashed a torrent of threes to start the half.
After draining another shot, CJ raised three fingers in celebration—it was already his third triple of the quarter. In just a few minutes, the Mavericks had been forced to bring back their starters, while the Kings had only added CJ.
Even so, Dallas was struggling to contain the barrage. If one player is hot, you can double-team and shade help to slow him down. But when everyone's hitting, your defense turns into a net full of holes.
And there was a bigger problem—the Mavericks' aging roster was running out of gas against the Kings' pace.
Ellis was bent over, hands on knees, gasping for air. Across from him, CJ looked like a tireless machine, sprinting end to end, while Ellis dragged heavy legs to keep up.
Clang! LaVine finally missed a three. Shaking his head in frustration, he jogged back. Carlisle, still tense, allowed himself a flicker of relief. Finally, a miss. If they'd kept that up, I'd have to call the cops.
Even with the Boost Card, fatigue and form shift over the course of a game. The Kings' surge slowed, and by the end of the third quarter, the Mavericks had clawed back into the lead—86–82 heading into the final period.
No one had expected a 14-point gap to shrink so quickly in just one quarter.
In the broadcast booth, Barkley rubbed his bald head in disbelief. "This is insane. The Kings are firing away like crazy. Nobody can withstand this kind of onslaught."
Miller, one of the greatest shooters in league history, gave a wry smile. "This season, the Kings have given us surprise after surprise. And what's even crazier—they've got scoring everywhere and barely a weak spot. Inside you've got Cousins, Mozgov, even rookie Jokić. Outside, shooters like CJ, Ben, and LaVine. Coach Malone can run any system he wants.
"Whether it's pounding the Clippers with the twin towers or letting his perimeter snipers go to work like tonight, Malone's like a magician—always pulling a new trick from his hat.
"This Kings team is scary."
"And they're still carrying Gay's toxic contract. Before the season, nobody would have believed this was possible."
...
On the Mavericks bench, Carlisle gritted his teeth. "We can't let them keep this up. Dirk, you and Chandler get in there and cut the gap. Ellis, take a breather."
Ellis, still catching his breath, nodded. He needed the rest to handle the closing minutes.
"Oh? Nowitzki's finally checking back in."
After sitting the entire third quarter, Dirk stretched his shoulders and walked slowly onto the court. Malone instantly went on high alert. No one underestimated Nowitzki—not even at nearly 40, he was still one of the league's deadliest power forwards.
On his first touch, Dirk tried to post up Cousins, but was smothered. His shot came out awkward and clanged off the rim. Cousins grabbed the board and fed CJ to bring it up deliberately, slowing the tempo.
With Cousins and Mozgov on the floor, the Kings couldn't keep running Moreyball. Malone wanted to protect the lead; Carlisle wanted to give Dirk a lower-intensity environment.
The Kings worked the ball inside to Cousins against Tyson Chandler. A shoulder fake created just enough space for a hook—two points, clean.
But before Cousins could jog back, a pair of eyes was locked on him.
Dirk's face was calm, but his gaze burned with renewed fight. The aging star, stirred by Cousins' success, found his fire again.
The counterattack began. Dirk backed Cousins down, rose into his signature one-legged fade—money. Next trip, a smooth footwork move in the paint—score again. Just like that, the gap was down to four.
Malone's frown deepened. If Dirk kept this up, the Kings were in trouble.
"Cousins, take a seat. Jokić, in. Mozgov, you take Dirk, Jokić, be ready to help from the weak side."
It was a bold move—benching his top scorer for more defensive coverage. Dirk, seeing Cousins leave, narrowed his eyes. His plan to lure Cousins into a one-on-one battle and disrupt the Kings' offense had been sniffed out, and Malone's counter left him feeling like he'd just punched air.
Jokić and Mozgov teamed up to clamp him down, while on the perimeter, Ellis was shadowed tightly by LaVine. Ever since being torched by elite wings, LaVine seemed to have unlocked something—charging down the path toward becoming a true 3-and-D player.
On the bench, Chen Yilun watched with a headache brewing. A future All-Star, and he'd turned him into a 3-and-D guy? That had to be fixed later.
But even with Jokić and Mozgov, they couldn't fully cool Dirk's rhythm. By the end of the quarter, he had already piled up 23 points in just three periods. Barring surprises, 30-plus looked inevitable.