I know, I know, these are tough times, and Avery’s competence has been brought into question. When owner Mark Cuban engaged in that “heated exchange’’ last week after yet another crushing loss, it shoved to the forefront

issues regarding everything from the coach’s rotation decisions to his stubbornness to his ego to whether we can no longer tolerate his squeaky voice.

   Now, my experience Friday night does not change the rules of conventional wisdom: Any coach with a relentlessly driving style eventually runs out of gas. A team that alters its roster sometimes requires a coach that fits the alternations. And, ultimately, if a team fails – however you or I or Cuban decide to define “failure’’ – it is standard-operating procedure to consider axing the man in charge.

   Before I provide you the details of my surprisingly rosy one-on-one conversations on the “state of the team’’ with Dirk Nowitzki, Eddie Jones and Jason Terry, let me allow for two possibilities:

   1. Are the fellas are just circling the wagons, closing ranks? Wisely, Cuban himself does so when he tells the DMNews: “I'm not worried about what goes back and forth between A.J. and I. If I have to worry about who might be listening, that's a problem. I'm not the type to hide what I'm saying or care who is listening, because we all work for the same company and should have the same goals. If I can't trust the people who work around me to recognize this is just another day at the office, that's the issue I have to deal with. That is something I fire people for.’’

   2. Did the circumstances of the evening slapped a Band-Aid on team unhappiness? The fourth-annual “Tux & Tennies’’ event, held at the Ritz-Carlton, capped the team’s day off. Jason Terry served ably as the comic-relief MC, players and coaches hobnobbed with fans at dinner and then in the rollicking casino, and in the end, over $500,000 was raised for charities through the Dallas Mavericks Foundation. It was a feel-good event, and team president Terdema Ussery put the cherry on top when he took the stage.

   “We going to make the playoffs,’’ Ussery told the crowd. “Everything will be in place. And we believe we can win a championship.’’

   And I looked around the room. Players were nodding their heads – acting in the same affirmative way in which they spoke to me about the team, its chances, and its coach.

   Circling the wagons? Yes. A one-night Band-Aid? I don’t think so.

   First, the results of my conversation with Dirk:

   “(This event) doesn’t make (having lost two straight) any better for me, no. I took (Thursday’s loss to Boston) hard. I didn’t hardly sleep at all. Very frustrating. … I think the guys are holding it together fine. Our chemistry is great. Once we get that first one (a win over a contending team), we can start rolling. We just need (multiple) guys playing well at the same time. And then in the playoffs, it can be a different story.’’

   Nowitzki doesn’t have much b.s. in him. I’m telling you, he left me with few doubts about team chemistry and team confidence.

   Next, my conversation with Jason Terry:

   I asked him about “lineup decisions’’ and such. “I don’t think there are problems there, just decisions to be made,’’ Jet told me. “We really are doing this on the fly, but we have the right guys to do it. Everybody believes in each other.’’

   I asked him about Avery’s grinding style. “I think it ends up bringing out the best in us,’’ Terry replied. “All he wants for us is to be the best. How can you not like that? If you don’t like it, you aren’t a competitor, and in this locker room, these guys are competitors, believe me.’’

   I asked him whether some in the organization “walk on eggshells’’ when they are around the coach. Said Terry: “The players don’t. The players understand Avery, or at least the veterans do. See, Avery is Avery. We get a kick out of him. You know, I played against him. I play for him. I know the guy. I love the guy. I think we all do.’’

   Again, not much insincere about Jason Terry. He left a little wiggle room for Avery to have a flaw or two, but not much.

   Finally, let’s try Eddie Jones. Now, I’ve dealt with Nowitzki and Terry for years. And they sort of know who I am. But I frankly didn’t know Eddie Jones until Friday night. And when we happened to be situated at the same dinner table, it occurred to me: Veteran player, downside of his career, first season in Dallas, beginning-of-the-year starter now buried on the bench. … I bet Eddie Jones will spill whatever negative beans there are to spill!

   Nope.

   We talked about stuff while we poked at our salads. We kept talking about stuff as we walked through the casino. We talked about more stuff while we stood next to each other at the urinals. Eddie Jones is an affable, thoughtful, talkative dude. We talked. … a lot.

   I asked him about Avery’s “quirks.’’ About his penchant for favoring “system’’ over “player.’’ About his use of Jason Kidd, sitting him for the final possession in San Antonio, playing him only 27 minutes in the loss to the Lakers. About what I’ve heard regarding Avery not allowing his assistants much of voice.

   And Eddie Jones shut me down at almost every turn.

   “Every coach has a system,’’ Eddie said. “Pat Riley has a defensive system that is incredible. Smart players go ahead and buy into their coach’s system. You can nitpick, I guess, and if something doesn’t work, you can go back and criticize it. But players don’t generally take the time to do that. You move on and you trust the coach.  This team does trust Avery. He’s a good coach, and a good man.’’

   Now, I didn’t converse with a dozen players on these subjects. Just those three. But. …

   I did watch everybody else. And I did listen.

   There were J.J. Barea and Devean George yukking it up at the Blackjack table. There was Jason Terry and Jason Kidd busting each others’ chops. I saw Jerry Stackhouse pose for 100 pictures, I saw him shake 200 hands, and when the charity bidding for Dinner At Fearing’s With Jerry Stackhouse  climbed to $26,000, I saw humbled Jerry Stackhouse utter a “wow’’ as his jaw dropped.

   Eddie Jones said wonderful things about assistant Mario Elle’s future as a head coach. Josh Howard wrestled playfully with a staffer who tried to remove J-Ho's ballcap for a photo, Josh arguing that the black cap was designed to match his tux. Kidd and another assistant, Joe Prunty, talked together jovially for 30 minutes. And when it was time for the final bidding item – a private on-court basketball lesson for kids from Dirk himself – Jason Kidd offered $80,000.

And then, just for fun, agreed to out-bid himself, and upped it to $100,000.

   Jason Kidd, the newcomer, the axis of Avery’s potential world of trouble, got into the Mavericks’ spirit by personally donating one-fifth of the evening’s charity take.

   Does that sound like the action of a captain of Team Disharmony?

   Oh, and then Jason Terry grabbed the microphone from the auctioneer and cracked, “Hey, Jason, maybe you should be the one taking the private basketball lessons from Dirk!’’ And Kidd, Nowitzki and Terry all roared.

   Does that sound like the behavior of the captains of Team Mutiny?

   Listen, I’m not backing off the harsh words I’ve written about Avery Johnson. The concerns are – or were -- real, and they are not mine alone. Nor, however, am I backing off from my attempt at positive spin, that Avery Johnson is a coach who has room to grow – and can, and must, and maybe even is.

   Allow me to relay to you one more “Tux & Tennies’’ scene. The PR folks corralled all the players and the head coach into one corner of the ballroom for a group photo. As the guys took their positions, there came a series of private moments not meant for public consumption: Avery Johnson approached every single player, one-by-one. He embraced each man, and not briefly. And he whispered something in each man’s ear.

   I didn’t hear the coach’s words. But I saw the players’ faces.

I searched those faces for the tell-tale signs of disharmony, disgruntlement, disgust, a mutiny. And I saw nothing of the sort.