In the NBA, villainy rarely looks like chaos. It usually comes from billionaires who think that they can do good things with their power. Donald Sterling, Glen Taylor, and Robert Sarver, the old guard of bad NBA owners, have mostly left the stage, having sold their controlling stakes in recent years. Even James Dolan, long regarded as the autocratic overlord of the New York Knicks, has begun to loosen his grip on basketball operations. Yet as the league evolves, the absence of these figures creates a vacuum – one in which a new archetype of villainous owner can emerge. And from where I stand, Miriam Adelson is the No 1 example.
Sheldon Adelson’s widow, Adelson, is one of the wealthiest women in the world, worth approximately $27 billion. Gambling and her majority stake in the Las Vegas Sands casino and resort company are the primary sources of her wealth. In late 2023, she purchased majority ownership of the Dallas Mavericks from Mark Cuban for $3.5bn. In a little over two years in charge, she has alienated large parts of the team’s fanbase by allowing the trade of a generational superstar, Luka Dončić, who took the team to the NBA finals last season.
The Mavericks have become a laughingstock thanks to Adelson, her son-in-law Patrick Dupont, and former shoe salesman turned general manager Nico Harrison. Dallas is still devastated by the loss of Doni, who will almost certainly be inducted into the Hall of Fame. Chants of “Fire Nico” have broken out across the city, from Medieval Times to college basketball games. Harrison may have traded Doni, but he did so with Adelson’s support. More troubling to fans like me are her close links to Donald Trump; she is a Maga megadonor, the most generous of any sports team owner by some distance, and her staunch support of Israel as tens of thousands of Palestinians suffer under a brutal war.
NBA owners have long participated in political fundraising, often quietly backing presidential candidates behind the scenes. Yet few have done so as overtly as Adelson. Her political engagement transcends mere support and enters the realm of activism – in 2024 alone, Adelson gave more than $100m to Trump’s campaign efforts –the very term conservatives so often weaponize as a pejorative. And all of this is before we get to an opinion piece she wrote in 2023, in which she claimed that pro-Palestinian protesters were “not our critics.” They are our enemies.” Adelson, of course, is perfectly entitled to support whichever politician she wants and have her own opinions on Israel – and many Mavs fans don’t care, as long as the team performs well (which it isn’t). However, for some fans, including myself, the fact that many on the right resent it when players like LeBron James speak out about social issues but don’t care when an NBA team owner gives millions to a presidential campaign or has their own opinion on politics is ironic. Those critics stay triggered when players mix sports and politics, but not when owners contribute millions to elect candidates – a darkly hilarious lack of self-awareness.
I see the on-court basketball chaos funded by Adelson as a fitting – if much less serious – parallel to her support of an Israeli regime that has inflicted suffering on the Palestinian people. Since the controversial trade that sent Dončić to the Los Angeles Lakers, the Mavericks have experienced a near-total unraveling. The Mavericks barely made it into the play-in tournament a year after reaching the NBA finals due to a string of injuries and the absence of Doni. Meanwhile, the franchise has relinquished control of its first-round draft picks from 2027 through 2030 – a period during which their aging core, including Anthony Davis and Kyrie Irving, will likely be in steep decline.
To compound the fan revolt, shortly after the trade the Mavericks announced an average season ticket price increase of 8% for 2025-26, with some seat hikes increasing by 10%. If the goal was to alienate fans, it proved remarkably effective. Tim MacMahon of ESPN stated that the Mavericks’ decision to part ways with Doni may have significant repercussions, potentially leading to “loss of dozens of millions in revenue this season due to dwindling crowds, plummeting merchandise sales, and sponsors severing ties with the franchise in the wake of the trade.” There have been very visible signs of fans’ discontent: when Dončić returned to Dallas with the Lakers to play the Mavs last week, a “Fire Nico” mural had been erected five minutes away from the stadium.
Inside the arena, as the Mavericks played a tribute video thanking Dončić for his years of brilliance with the team, the fruits of Adelson’s ownership decisions came into full view. Before the montage began, Doni, anticipating what was to come, requested a towel; he soon burst into tears. Then he stepped on to court and scored 45 points as the Lakers routed the Mavs 112-97.
The man who led Dallas to their first and only NBA title in 2011 was Dirk Nowitzki, and he was sitting in the seats and watching everything. Until Adelson, Dumont, and Harrison traded away Doni, the new Dallas heart and soul, in 2019, when he retired, it seemed like a perfect way to pass the torch. They did not appear to comprehend or care about the significance of Doni to Dallas for fans like myself. He embodied the hopes and dreams of the city he wore on his chest, like many other superstars before him. But from her support of the divisive presidency of Trump – in a city where most of the population voted for Kamala Harris in 2024 – to her backing of Israel as the Gaza campaign continues, to her ownership of the Mavericks, Adelson strikes me as someone who cares little about how her decisions affect others.
There have always been criminals in the NBA. But this may be the first time we’ve had one whose emblem you can wear on a jersey and whose massive influence shapes both the league and American legislation and policy.
