The Pacers are two wins from the team’s first NBA title, with two Finals games left to play in Indianapolis. It is the closest the Pacers are to an NBA title since the team’s previous NBA Finals game in Indianapolis a quarter-century ago, when Indiana struck in the face of a 3-1 deficit to win Game 5 of the 2000 Finals.
And closest – Shaq, Kobe – wasn’t all that close. And that was a long time ago.
There is no thirst to explain the Indiana Pacers’ professional basketball titles in Indiana at the moment, no movement to codify those 1970, 1972 and 1973 ABA title banners as accomplishments equal to winning the NBA’s ring. The Pacers were perhaps the ABA’s best-attended team during the league’s nine-year run, but those were about 8,000 people per game, and those games were 50 years ago.
Those kids at home on a Friday night in November 2004, watching Pistons/Pacers on ESPN because they’re bored with firing up Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas for 20th time since school let out that afternoon, those kids have kids now and those kids are out of school this week. First week of summer, parents telling them to put away the video games. The Malice at the Palace established its 20th anniversary last autumn and it is largely forgotten, nobody brings it up unless they want to ruin a good time.
The prevailing Pacer image is that of a pretty good team, Indiana is repeatedly Eastern contenders but the years add up when there is failure to break through. Even those who would push to recognize tri-colored ABA banners still want the NBA’s Pacers to go ahead and get this NBA title over with. With that boring orange ball.
Until then, the Indiana Fever (WNBA Finals in 2009 and 2015, title in 2012) have the floor. Few locals are impressed by the Pacers’ postseason permanence when the Indianapolis Colts skipped from AFC laughingstock to Super Bowl winner just by getting two drafts correctly. Knocked Johnny Unitas’ flattop to the back of the team program.
The Pacers, meanwhile, couldn’t make it out of the East. Metta World Peace made peaceful world championships elsewhere, Reggie Miller shilled for 2400-calorie fast food breakfast platters while in pajamas, Pacers appeared in postseasons seven of eight years between 2011 and 2018 even if Larry Bird (otherwise, serving ham) drafted Tyler Hansbrough ahead of James Johnson.
But then Paul George asks out. It is 2017 and OKC Thunder GM Sam Presti recently traded his last Seattle SuperSonic for two players (Victor Oladipo, Domantas Sabonis) to intrigue these Pacers, and by 2018 it doesn’t matter that George is gone: Indiana gives LeBron James’ Cavaliers seven games in the first round.
Then Oladipo suffers a career-altering injury, his starting backcourt mate retires rather than take the millions the Pacers offered him. Sabas is flipped for Tyrese Haliburton, improved outlook, but the city of Indianapolis was seen yawning into its phone in 2024. Too cognizant through national press of the idea that the Pacers only made it to the Eastern finals because of other teams’ injuries.
Since then, one pitch after another to Pacer fans: Indiana embarrassed Milwaukee, made Cleveland look small, the Knicks uncultured, inspiring the Thunder to shoot like Ron Mercer.
Now the sporting world descends on Indianapolis. Chided for not following the newly-fundamental Finals on televisions fed by co-axial cable. Intrigued at the thought of a red-state workhorse run helmed by an NBA team owner who lightly sprinkles money over all sorts of blue-party bids. What will they find?
The arena, loud, small, not a bad seat in the house, a scoreboard to awe even Jerry Jones. Decibel-meter compares favorably with Oklahoma City’s raucous crowd, low-100s, plenty of organic chanting, standing when nervous during timeouts. Each arena features the attendees’ bold attempts at clapping along with the rather incomplete drumming of Lars Ulrich on “Enter Sandman.”
Pat McAfee is banished from the sideline and into a luxury suite, after John Mellencamp unleashed claws on Indiana’s most-famous fake Hoosier since Bob Knight stomped around, virtue signaling in that sweater, pretending he wasn’t from Ohio.
The city is a classic, that kind that’s been around long enough to be cruelly compromised, re-segregated by the federal interstate system. National fans noticed Indianapolis’ breadth in the overhead shots during Game 3 and Indy is ready for that close-up, this town invented flying the Goodyear Blimp over a covered Hoosier Dome.
There’s also the Elvis memorial near the Pacer arena, celebrating Elvis Presley’s final live concert which was in Indianapolis and apparently one of his best of the tour. Although according to one fan website ”after the show many of the band members became ill and were hospitalized overnight.”
The plaque stands across the street from a Whole Foods and it kinda makes you wish EP were still around, wanderin’ the aisles, basket dangling over his forearm, shopping for ingredients to the most expensive peanut butter and bacon sandwich of his life. The Whole Foods is on the site of the former Market Square Arena, home of that last Presley concert, home of the Indiana Pacers until 1999 but barely, just barely. The Pacers almost moved in 1977, the same year (they say) Elvis moved on.
Pacer coach Bob “Slick” Leonard, who died in 2021, and wife Nancy Leonard, whom ABC will broadcast repeatedly while she sits courtside at these Finals games, saved the team. With a telethon!
Nancy and Slick Leonard and Chet Coppock in there, raising cash to keep the Pacers in Indianapolis.
The Pacers coulda left town and Market Square Arena woulda been fine without them, busied with Doobie Brothers and Led Zeppelin and Graham Central Station and Neil Diamond dates. The Leonards, however, couldn’t watch Indiana’s lone professional sports franchise – “The Celtics of the ABA” – moved from Indy:
When the Pacers, whose total debt is now estimated in excess of $5 million, failed to meet a June 1 payday, 20 city businesses and individuals raised $100,000 to meet the month’s salaries. The season‐ticket drive was then launched using a variety of new approaches to fans, including payroll deductions, credit‐union loans and pools among factory workers to share the cost and seats of season tickets. As of today, 5,179 season tickets had been sold.
“We’re trying to do a job in three weeks that usually takes four months,” said Bob Leonard, the Pacers’ coach and general manager.
The telethon was organized quickly this week as previous deadlines expired for rescuing the club, which has been up for sale since April from its creditors and for showing faith to potential investors by substantial sales of advance season tickets.
If the telethon doesn’t hit, perhaps we watch the Providence Pacers. Perhaps Indianapolis is awarded NBA entry in the aughts, maybe David Stern creates the Indiana Thunder when Howard Schultz mopes out of Seattle.
Do the Irsays weasel their way toward Indianapolis if the telethon doesn’t go over? Does the NCAA move its den of free labor to Indy? Does Razor Shines really settle in?
Yet Indianapolis is major league, right down to whatever NBA Finals script the league chryons onto Indiana’s home court. On Wednesday the sporting world was treated to a nervous and somewhat respectful midwestern welcome, on Friday evening the Pacer crowd will be feeling its 2-1 Finals edge, strutting belief can be an obnoxious thing.
It makes for good TV, though, for the millions navigating illegal streams to watch this series. These Pacers aren’t the best team anyone’s ever seen, that would be the Thunder, winners of NBA games by an average of 13 per night.
But the Pacers are deeper than most teams historically performing in June, wildly effective even dipping deep into the bench, dominating that 13-per night opponent with only two players (Tyrese Haliburton and Andrew Nembhard) working more than two-thirds of Game 3’s win. This is all new to Oscar Robertson, sitting courtside on Wednesday, 69 years ago his Crispus Attucks squad didn’t need to run 10-deep to top Lafayette Jefferson in the state championship.
This is a consistent hallmark of recent Kevin Pritchard-led outfits: Indiana hears what other teams think about Bojan Bogdanovic or Thomas Bryant or Obi Toppin and doesn’t care, asks them to turn into two-way players anyway under the guidance of a damn good coach: Nate McMillan or Rick Carlisle (and don’t bring up that guy they hired in the middle).
Carlisle is the same person the Pacers let go in 2007 for turning in the NBA’s worst offense. He will now set the (perhaps unachievable) template for how other leaders develop pro rotations.
Provocative hoop insight – two way players run real hard – once again handed down on high from Indiana. In 49 other states it’s just basketball, and they’ll never let us stop hearing about it.
Kelly Dwyer is driving to every NBA game of the 2025 Finals, help him with gas money at kdonhoops.com
