ERICK DAMPIER

Except for playing Tim Duncan too tightly on the wings, Dampier just about locked up TD and threw away the key. Indeed, Duncan needed 21 shots — hitting only seven — to score his 19 points.

Dampier can also run fairly well for a big man, bang with anybody, and make a decent percentage of his free throws. His deficits are a propensity for being in perpetual foul trouble, a barely adequate level of athleticism, an inability to block shots, a lack of offense, and bad hands.

Dampier is perfectly suited to be either a backup, or to split time with a more offensive-minded center. Still, he's a keeper.

ANTOINE WRIGHT

He's young, quick, and very active. He started the game but only played 23 minutes, primarily because he can't shoot, he can't defend, and he's a mistake player.

Perhaps he'll be a worthy NBA performer in two or three years. Perhaps not.

This guy should either be axed or sent to the end of the bench. The far end.

J.J. BAREA

He's quick with and without the ball, but Barea's lack of size is a serious drawback. Of his four shots, three of them were either forced or taken too precipitously. And his defense was awful.

For sure, he's had some big games playing in tandem with Kidd when Terry was out. But on a steady diet of backup minutes, there's not enough beef in Barea's game.

Lose him.

BRANDON BASS

Since all of his offense is predicated upon his hitting mid-range jumpers, he must actually make them. If not, his defenders will give him room and take away his driving game.

Bass can run the floor and isn't an especially woeful defender. In fact, he did a decent job of harnessing TD during his 14 minutes on the court.

But Bass is just about useless if his shot isn't falling. And it's a Catch-22. He needs beaucoup playing time to keep his shot on target, but he won't get the time he needs if his shot repeatedly misfires.

In any event, Bass doesn't do enough to warrant his being the Mavs' primary sub for Dampier.

Lose him.

DIRK NOWITZKI

This is a tough one.

In his younger days, Nowitzki could run with the guards, handle like he had the ball on a string, and zip his way to the basket with ease. These days, his body is thicker, his area of influence is smaller, and his moves are clunky.

A lithesome 6-7, 227, Rodman could run with the guards and bang with the big men. He couldn't shoot himself in the foot, but he never took bad shots, which is why his career shooting percentage was 52.7.

Yes, he was a nut case. And he was called the Worm because his insistent, poking, prodding, late-hitting defense got under the skin of most opponents -- especially Karl Malone. But Rodman did posses an extraordinarily high basketball IQ. And despite his failures to resist many on-court and most off-court temptations, Rodman always came to play.

In fact, the reason why he bailed out on the pre-Duncan Spurs in 1995 was that he was convinced that his teammates were reluctant to sacrifice their individual stats in order to mount a serious effort to win a championship.

Speaking of which, Rodman's efforts constituted absolutely critical elements in five championship-winning teams -- two with the Pistons and three with the Bulls.

In other words, Rodman was one of the greatest role players in the history of the NBA. And why should useless stat-sheet-fillers like Walt Bellamy, George Gervin, Connie Hawkins and Dan Issel be admitted into the HOF over a much more productive guy like Rodman?

Travels With Charley

Phil Jackson used to be phenomenal athlete, and not only in basketball. As a pitcher for the University of North Dakota, Jackson hurled a one-hitter. And during an exhibition game, he also hit a wall-denting line-drive two-bagger against Satchel Paige!

Moreover, before his back surgery in 1968, PJ's vertical leap was 36 inches.

He was only 6-8, 230 in his prime, but his high shoulders coupled with his long arms — his sleeve size is 38 inches — gave him the reach of a 7-footer and made him a buzzsaw on defense. PJ could hit mid-range jumpers, his sweeping lefty hook was unstoppable and his execution of the Knicks' designs at both ends of the court was well nigh impeccable.

All of these factors enabled Jackson to occasionally play center, and to routinely match up against players who were much bigger and stronger. It was against one of these out-sized opponents that Jackson performed the most important athletic feat of his entire 12-year NBA career.

With his surgically-repaired back limiting his mobility, Jackson made frequent use of his bony elbows to prevent superior players from overwhelming him. In fact, he was as accurate with his elbows as a gold medal fencer is with his rapier. Jackson's plan was to annoy his opponents, keep them off-balance and gain a degree of leverage. Doing any physical damage was not in his game plan.

In one particular game toward the end of his career, the Knicks were playing the Indiana Pacers and Phil's task was to guard George McGinnis. Big George was a specimen who measured 6-8, 250, and his muscles had muscles. As the game wore on, McGinnis became increasingly upset with Jackson's ever-present elbows.

McGinnis wasn't shy about voicing his displeasure, but Jackson ignored these complaints. After all, if Jackson couldn't get away with a few well-placed 'bows, then his NBA career would soon be defunct. By the second half, McGinnis was downright angry. After what he felt to be one particularly egregious elbow jabbed into his massive chest, McGinnis simply cocked his right fist and directed a powerful punch at the middle of Jackson's face.

Kermit Washington's punch that destroyed Rudy Tomjanovich's face would have seemed like a love tap had McGinnis' fist found its target.

The punch was so unexpected and so quickly unloosed that Jackson had no time to think or to undertake a conscious reaction. What he did do was to instinctively go limp, and as his entire body collapsed to the floor, McGinnis' angry fist barely grazed the top of Phil's haircut.

More important than a razzle-dazzle dunk, or a spectacular shot-block that launches the ball high into the cheap seats, Phil's athleticism enabled him to escape from what was literally a life-or-death situation.