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I had the cops called on me during Game 2 of the 2011 Finals

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You can't make this up.

This week and next, we'll be publishing stories about the 2006 and 2011 Finals in honor of their 5-year and 10-year anniversaries. Both are important, even if one is significantly easier to celebrate. Finals Week might mean something else to students, but for us, this will be a nostalgic look back.

Let me tell you a story about the time the cops came to my apartment because my neighbors thought someone was dying.

All Mavericks fans probably have stories of where they were for Game 2 of the 2011 NBA Finals. You know, that epic moment in history where the Dallas Mavericks came back from 15 down in the fourth quarter to tie the series at 1-1 against the Miami Heat.

June 2 was the five-year anniversary of that classic encounter. How many times can we talk about Game 2 without it getting boring? I get it, that game will never get boring but we've watched the final seven minutes, 13 seconds about 1,000 times that I could literally concoct a bullet-point play-by-play by memory alone.

To hell with that. Here's a story involving Dirk Nowitzki, Game 2 of the 2011 NBA Finals and Las Vegas' finest police officers.

By the time the fourth quarter started, I just got back from dinner. Miami led 75-71, so timing was perfect. Dallas played well for three quarters, but Miami's athleticism and fast-paced tempo was getting to the Mavericks. You knew that after LeBron James destroyed the rim late in the third quarter, but Dallas was down four points with a nine-fingered Dirk. Things were good.

Then, Miami goes on that 13-2 run in the next four-plus minutes. That Dwyane Wade corner three in front of the Dallas bench goes in, and I'm sitting on my bed with my face in my hands, wondering if Dallas is even going to win a single game in this series. I hit the wall a couple of times; not too hard, but enough to where my hand stung for a bit.

I turned the game off. Normally, I wouldn't do that. But after what Miami did in Game 1 in the second half, this game would end by 20-25 points. Immediately, I wrote on Facebook, "Pathetic basketball. Just absolutely pathetic."

A few minutes pass, and I get a text from a buddy. "Are you seeing this?" I said, "No way, I turned it off." He goes, "Dude, it's a six-point game."

What the hell?

I turn the TV back on, and there's the replay of Jason Kidd's 3-pointer that cut the Miami lead to 90-84 with 3:54 to go. Jason Terry and Dirk responded with back-to-back jumpers, cut the lead to two points and the decibel level in my apartment started to get higher. I yelled at my TV as if I were having a conversation with it. The TV must've heard me, because Dirk laid the ball in with a minute to play to tie the game at 90. This is when I grabbed some water and I yelled so loud that the water spilled on the floor, which prompted me to yell louder.

I can hear some slight rumblings come from the outside, but think none of it. Three people are gathered by the covered parking spots, but again, I think none of it. Here comes Dirk's rainbow 3 from the left wing, and I jump off my couch and yell loudly while falling to the floor face first while clapping really loudly.

Notice the pattern here. There's a lot going on. Too much action is being had. Mario Chalmers' tying 3 did not help matters, but Dirk's game-winning layup did. Once that final buzzer sounded, more screaming at the television was done and I felt this euphoric sensation watching the Mavericks tie the series at a game apiece.

About 10 minutes passed and I calmed down finally. Still happy, nonetheless. Then, a knock on my front door. As I calmly answer the door, standing in front of me are two Las Vegas police officers. I am baffled at this point. Was there a murder down the road? A burglary? Did some bully knock over a small kid's ice cream cone?

Puzzled and confused, I ask, "Can I help you, officers?"

"Yes, we've gotten multiple phone calls about a possible domestic disturbance coming from this residence."

"There's nothing going on here, sir. I'm here by myself."

"Sir, we've gotten four different accounts saying much noise was coming from this apartment. We were told a lot of yelling was involved and loud noises came from here."

At that moment, it all made sense. I actually disturbed the peace. Holy hell.

"Officers, I'm so sorry. I'm a Dallas Mavericks fan and was watching Game 2 of the Finals."

"Oh! That would explain a lot. How did the game end?"

"Mavs were down 15, came back to win by 2."

"Holy shit, that's amazing. I can understand now."

This was an actual conversation between me and two Las Vegas police officers. This all happened 10 minutes after I lost my voice and felt like I was going to faint after excruciating all sorts of energy due to that game I just watched. I was sad, excited, euphoric and scared I was going to jail, all in about 30-35 minutes.

Reliving this story makes me appreciate that Finals more. I was smart to go to a friend's house for Game 6, avoiding another police call and being here to tell you this tale.