I Don't Think the Pacers Understand They Can Die

The 2024-25 Oklahoma City Thunder are an historically great team. Shai Gilgeous-Alexander, their leader and offensive engine, is the newly-minted MVP. The only thing deeper than their roster is their stash of future draft picks. They won 68 games, 16 clear of 2nd in the West. They took down Nikola Jokic and Anthony Edwards on the way to the Finals. Their +12.8 net rating is good for 2nd all time behind only the 1996 Chicago Bulls. Yeah, 72-10, that one.

And the Indiana Pacers do not give a shit.

So how did we get here, a few hours before Game 2 of the NBA Finals, with the 4 seed, under-.500-on-January-1st Indiana Pacers leading 1-0? Matt1 said it perfectly before the Eastern Conference Finals tipped off:

So much of basketball is a confidence game. You cannot effectively shoot a basketball and be afraid that you are going to look foolish. Fear throws your mechanics off as the shot comes out.

To get a shot off against an NBA defender is to believe you can arc the ball over a long armed giant lunging (or jumping) directly at you. Good shooters are right about forty percent of the time. Great shooters are right about that much but make the bet far more often and in worse circumstances. What lies beyond is a level untouched by numbers, unconcerned with uneven performance, ruled entirely by belief that the ball is going through the net no matter what.

What lies beyond, at least in these playoffs, is Tyrese Haliburton.

I am about to say something that will get me yelled at by every right minded basketball fan. I am mad at this statement too. But it’s essential it’s in here, think of this going 4-14 to start the game. If you look at the numbers, Tyrese Halliburton hasn’t been a good shooter this playoffs. Strictly speaking, TJ McConnell has been more efficient. None of it matters. Ask anyone who has played on or against these Pacers about the feeling Tyrese Haliburton inspires in the clutch. The efficiency does not matter, because at the end of the day, we believe he will take these shots, and everyone believes he can make these shots. Watch this Oskhosh B’Gosh motherfucker turn into a demon.

I don’t think the Pacers understand they can die.

Defense is the same. If you don’t believe you can stay in front of someone – or worse, you know you can’t — you’re at their mercy. You can see a defender who is truly beaten wilt in realtime. Their confidence is sapped, handed to some high-scoring superstar before they even get past half court. What happens next is a formality, another step in a dance that ends with the ball going through the basket over and over and over.

The hardest part of defending in the NBA is getting the process right every single possession, knowing that you’re up against players great enough to make your best efforts not matter, being run ragged by ball movement and through screens. Facing up to the statistically inevitable and daring it to happen again.

Dropping into a defensive stance with 20 seconds left, down 1, on an island with the reigning MVP, and meeting the moment head-on:

Any team could have had Nesmith and Nembhard. The Celtics, whose expected coronation ended in tragedy, very literally did have Nesmith. No one forced the Pacers to keep Nembhard, a traditional point guard, nor to keep the second round pick in the starting lineup over lottery drafted teammates on the bench. Nesmith appears to be the type of shooter who comes to life in movement, in doing things, and shrunk into himself when asked to serve as a spot up option in Boston. Turner, the defensive linchpin, was the unofficial mayor of the trade block for seemingly a half a decade.

A recurrent joy of the NBA playoffs is the young star coronated as something more than we thought. It echoes what makes college sports so compelling, watching a supernaturally talented athlete confident enough to not know better. Seeing someone be unafraid in the face of clear and present danger and proven correct to be so.2

This relationship between fear and commitment is in many ways the backbone of any extreme sport. Go up on a skateboard, a bicycle, skis, whatever, get into the air, and the only way out of this that doesn’t involve you injured is to land. The only way to land is to follow through the movement smoothly. Confidence you can land is not enough to land. But hesitation, the fear that you cannot do this? It will get you killed. You stiffen up, and your doubt is immediately proven true. You stop trying to land and begin negotiating with gravity, bracing for impact. In simpler terms, you bail. What the Pacers have accomplished is not bailing, at any point, in the face of terrifying odds.

In the best years, the young star raises their team up with them. Steph’s first title with the Warriors transformed how we think of co-stars Klay Thompson and Draymond Green.3 Further, it cemented the likes Shaun Livingston and Mo Speights in history. Transcendence can shine widely. Immortality can be contagious. It has a halo effect, belief in one player (and that that player is on your team) expands the horizons of what a team believes is possible.

Part of how this works is the Pacers seem to know exactly who they are, as a collective and as individuals. I do not think it is fan service when Tyrese credits the decision of management to allow them to run it back with this playoff run. The confidence that comes from knowing, and having developed trust in, the players next to them seems to be a key part of why the Pacers keep coming. These are players who have been through some shit together, I’m thinking of last seasons conference final defeat or this season’s rough start, and figured out how to adapt and overcome. They believe their system, and the physical, grueling work that trying to score fast breaks off every single shot demands, works. They believe this because they have seen it work. The dynamics of group confidence in what they are and a belief in Tyrese as that guy reinforce each other.

When this kind of thing is in the air, everyone on the team can feel it:

Whether they win or lose Game 2 — or, indeed, the Finals altogether — we’re watching one of those coronations. We’re watching the rising tide lift all boats. The Pacers are a singular star surrounded by a constellation of lights that can each, on any given night, shine brighter than the rest. But no matter who burns hottest, rest assured the entire sky is aflame. There is only one way forward for this team. One path to 1-in-183. One path to 1-in-1.5 million. They will run, they will score, they will dare you to join them.

It doesn’t matter if they put up 80 points or 20 turnovers in a half. The Pacers are sprinting off made buckets. They’re picking up 94 feet from the hoop. They’re turning 180º to launch game-tying 2s with a toe on the line. They’re channeling prime James Harden in the face of the MVP. They’re living in the moment.

They’re living.