Luka Dončić was supposed to be the stable one.
The generational Slovenian phenom landed in Dallas with a smile, a superstar pedigree from Europe, and the rarest thing of all in today’s NBA: trust. He had it in Mark Cuban, in Rick Carlisle, in Dirk Nowitzki’s shadow and presence, and most of all, in the idea that the Mavericks would be his franchise — just as they were Dirk’s before him.
But in February of this year, that trust was traded, quite literally, out from under him.
When the Mavericks sent Dončić to the Lakers in a bombshell offseason deal, many assumed it was simply basketball logic: a return package centered around Anthony Davis, Max Christie, and a first-round pick to reset the timeline. But look closer, and the story starts to unravel in stranger, more ironic ways.
Because within months of Luka landing in Los Angeles — long considered one of the most stable ownership groups in the league — rumors began swirling. Jeanie Buss was considering a sale. Within a year, it was done. A staggering $10 billion price tag, the most ever in pro sports history. Just like that, Dončić went from one ownership regime shift to another, two franchises in flux, neither of which now resembles the versions that drafted or acquired him.
And from Luka’s point of view, you have to ask: what the hell just happened?
The vanishing breed
In a league once defined by legacy ownership — the Buss family, Jerry Reinsdorf, Mark Cuban — there is a tectonic shift happening beneath the surface. Owners are aging, heirs are disinterested or divided, and new money is circling with development plans and digital portfolios, not lifelong fan bases.
Cuban’s departure was not about passion — he had plenty. It was about protection. As he said in interviews, he didn’t want to burden his children with the logistical chaos of owning an NBA team. So he sold controlling interest to the Adelsons, a move that tethered the Mavericks to a broader, longer play: legalized gambling in Texas, and the possible construction of an arena-and-casino compound on the old Texas Stadium site in Irving or downtown Dallas.
It made financial sense. But it shifted the soul of the franchise.
And Dončić, who had grown used to a direct line to his owner, now became a player under a silent board, at the mercy of a woefully underqualified executive now unbridled from the last semblance of restraint. It wasn’t just that he was traded after the Finals run. It’s that the cultural compact between star and city was broken — without notice.
A broader trend
The irony of Luka arriving in L.A. only for the Buss family to sell cannot be overstated. You can’t even chalk it up to bad luck. It’s the new normal.
Minnesota, long owned by Glen Taylor, went through a similar saga. Taylor agreed to sell to a group led by Alex Rodriguez and Marc Lore, then tried to back out. Arbitration forced the sale forward in 2024, finalizing what had been a years-long process.
Elsewhere, even long-standing ownership figures are reassessing their roles. Michael Jordan sold his majority stake in the Hornets in 2023, retaining only a minority position. Dan Gilbert, while still the majority owner of the Cavaliers since 2005, has scaled back involvement since suffering a stroke in 2019, delegating much of the day-to-day to his executive team.
The shift is clear: teams are less about stewardship and more about financial strategy. Franchises, once family heirlooms, are now chess pieces in larger development portfolios. The tectonic plates beneath the NBA are moving — and players and fans are feeling the tremors.
What it means for the fans
For fans in Dallas, the reverberation is personal. Cuban was many things — loud, meddling, occasionally impulsive — but he was present. You believed he cared. You believed he would do anything to keep Dončić.
Patrick Dumont, the Adelson family’s proxy, doesn’t speak publicly in the same way. And reports indicate his belief in GM Nico Harrison was shaken after the Luka trade. Whether Dumont approved the deal or simply signed off passively, the result is the same: a generational star gone, and a fanbase reeling.
Dirk played 21 years in Dallas. It felt eternal. Luka was supposed to be the next chapter of that fairy tale.
Now? Mavericks fans stare into the Cooper Flagg era — a lottery miracle, a 1.8% bounce of the ball — with both gratitude and trepidation. Because if Luka could be traded, anyone can. If Cuban can sell, anyone will.
It’s been reported that Luka Dončić wanted to stay in Dallas his whole career. Given his Slovenian heritage and his appreciation for loyalty and legacy, the idea of mutual commitment through good times and bad meant something to him. But that trust was not returned in kind. When the trade was executed, it was reported that Nico Harrison didn’t allow Luka or his camp to be informed ahead of time to avoid a media firestorm. That meant Luka didn’t get to choose his destination. And while L.A. seemed like a stable place to reset, the sale of the team just months later may have changed his calculus as he eyes a looming choice to remain in Los Angeles.
Maybe Luka was open to being the new face of the Lakers. Maybe he was ready to plant roots. But with two seismic ownership shifts in a row, you have to wonder if now he’s looking for a home he can choose, rather than one chosen for him. You have to wonder if he views the Lakers’ stability differently after news broke of this historic exit of the Buss family.
If the new breed of owners stop being loyal to players — and thereby disrupt team continuity and break the circuit of fan loyalty — they may soon learn that loyalty is a two-way street. Players may prioritize flexibility over legacy. Fans may follow players more than teams. And the name on the back of the jersey may matter more than the one on the front.
The era of the franchise cornerstone is giving way to an era of portfolio churn.
And Luka Dončić, once the fixed point in a changing league, has become the face of its instability.
Cut loose from long-term loyalty in Dallas, he found liquidation — twice.