Seven minutes into the first quarter, Vince Carter entered the game for Dallas.

For the first time in a decade, there were as many cheers as boos. A brave few stood and clapped.

Carter would not have any real effect on the contest, but he did prime his audience for a series of charged, unpredictable mood swings.

For instance, the rousing and just-a-bit-outsized ovation for another, more dearly departed friend, Jose Calderon.

“He’s got that European thing,” Dallas coach Rick Carlisle said beforehand. “You know. That thing.”

Is it leather pants? A scooter? A Kraftwerk shrine?

Whatever it is, Toronto likes it. A creepy amount.

The first time Carter took the ball on the perimeter — a return to blanket boos.

When he backed DeMar DeRozan to the rim, turned him round and jammed over him — unanimous cheers.

Toronto: maintaining its reputation as the crazy girlfriend of the sports spectating world.

From the Raptors’ perspective, Carter’s appearance deflected attention from the real story.

After tying on masks all season long, the Raptors appeared to have chosen both comedy and tragedy. Three miserable losses out of four, and the bandwagon emptying like someone had dropped a lit cigarette.

With that in mind, you might argue that the low point of the entire season came in the first quarter. Oddly, it was a stroke of luck that undid them.

Dallas’ Dirk Nowitzki decided to take the night off. Not because of injury. Just for a breather.

How’s that for reminding you where you belong in the NBA pecking order?

Toronto had spent the entire day redefining its defensive schemes to take Nowitzki’s floor-stretching length and versatility into consideration.

Without him, the plan imploded.

“Our rotations were slow,” coach Dwane Casey said afterward. “Or non-existent.”

The Mavs stretched out to a 34-15 lead to end the first quarter.

Now they were booing, and finally for a good reason.

Then, a few odd things happened.

Kyle Lowry returned to the dressing room to vomit (he’d been suffering from a bug). The gnomic John Salmons rose from the bench to rouse his teammates with a speech. Chuck Hayes decided he was Moses Malone. DeRozan began going nuts.

By the half, Toronto was back within five. DeRozan was on his way to a career night — 40 points on 15-for-22 shooting. Like the devil, speak of the ghost of Vince Carter and he reappears.

Hayes, the wide-bodied forward who’s finally worked himself back into game shape, steadied everything, and mostly by force of will. He took no shots. He scored no points. He had one offensive rebound. He was still a plus-18 on the night.

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By the fourth quarter, Toronto was reeling Dallas back in. They tied it at 80. Then again at 82.

The crowd was now in Chiquita mode — permanent bananas.

The ceasefire with Carter was over. Every time he touched the ball, history was forgotten. All the fans could see was Dallas blue.

With four minutes left, DeRozan made a mad sprint along the baseline, spinning a full 360 and laying the ball in. He was hacked in the process. The room found another gear. By the end, they weren’t bothering to bring those awful “MAKE SOME NOISE!” placards out onto the court. They weren’t needed.

DeRozan made his free throw — three-point lead.

Amir Johnson — “resurgent” might be the right word — made a three-pointer to stretch it again. Nothing electrifies and horrifies the ACC in equal measure than watching Johnson’s achingly slow shot mechanics. You got the feeling that if that shot had missed, a lot of things were about to go terribly wrong.

But it didn’t. And they didn’t. And so on we went to the inevitable end.

The Raptors closed it out 93-85 against one of the better teams in the West. Nascent catastrophe averted.

And when it ended, another surprise — a small Casey meltdown.

By Casey standards, chiding sentences which do not begin with a “Bless his heart …” are deflating. But there was more than a little frustration showing when someone in the press room characterized the last few games as “a bit of a slide.”

“In this league, where we are, what’s a slide?” Casey snapped. “We lose two games and everybody’s all up in here? We’re not going to go 42-0. I’ve said it all along — we’re still growing. And for everybody to expect that we’re going to run this table the rest of the way, they’re kidding themselves.”

That was the last and most profitable surprise of the night.

The Raptors have made such a practice of playing things cool, they’ve encouraged wild swings of opinion outside the arena to fill the noise void.

The conversation needed to be pushed back toward the middle; while the people who pay to watch this needed to be nudged toward the extremes.

You may not yet be a true believer, but at least you’re finally feeling something other than doubt.

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