You Don't Know Jack: A Pacers Story

**trekfan** · 10-08-2017, 01:47 PM

Re: You Don't Know Jack: A Pacers Story

Ch. 1

When my publisher asked me how I wanted to tell this story, and I told him I wanted to put it on the Net, he about flipped the *uck out.

“The Net?!" He screamed at me. “Only people your age go there — you need to appeal to a younger crowd, that’s what drives sales.”

We argued about it for about ten more minutes before I convinced him that this whole thing was going out there, one way or another. He didn’t much like it, but I’m not here to beg for recognition from “the young crowd.” I’m here to tell the the story of my life … and I’m going to tell it exactly how I want to.

For those of you out there who don’t recognize my name or who I am, let me introduce myself: I’m Jack Tate, grandson of the cattle baron John Tate. I come from a family that never had to worry about money, and I certainly never gave a *hit about it. I was born in the late 90s — I know, for some of you, that’s ancient history now, considering we’re not too far away from the 22nd century.

But I was a child who lived and breathed basketball from a young age. It was my coping mechanism after my parents died in skiing accident when I was four. It’s the event that sent me to live with my grandfather (whom I fondly called Gramps for as long as he lived). Basketball was our therapy — he was just as broken up over the death of my parents as I was.

And so, we went to basketball games. College and pro. Gramps was an avid follower of Indiana basketball (he was an Indiana native and spent the first two decades of his life there before he left to make his fortune) and we watched the Pacers play almost as often as the Hoosiers. Now, for those of you unaware, basketball in Indiana is the lifeblood of the state — it’s the one unifying principal. It matters more than football or racing, easily.

But Indiana basketball, in the early 2000s, wasn’t a place where championships were won. The Hoosiers could barely make it out of the Sweet Sixteen and the Pacers had one, fleeting appearance in the NBA Finals before being crushed by the Shaq/Kobe Lakers. Basketball in Indiana wasn’t in a great place and the state’s attention had shifted to the other sports.

By the time 2017 rolled around, the Hoosiers had missed the NCAA Tournament and fired their head coach. The Pacers barely made the playoffs, but got knocked out easily. Then, they traded their best player — Paul George — for a former Hoosier and the son of a great player from Lithuania. The Pacers were a joke and their owner, Herb Simon, was in his 80s.

Gramps was in his 60s and he smelled an opportunity. After the George trade, he engaged Simon in negotiations to buy the team. It was all kept quiet, very hush-hush. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway, as the NBA was having one of the most exciting offseasons in league history.

On September 26th, 2017, Gramps completed the sale — $2B dollars he paid for the Pacers.

“I overpaid, honestly,” he told me later. “But damn if I was going to let the team have another *hitty year to drive the price down. I figured I’d make it up in the long-run anyway.”

Gramps bled Indiana basketball — and he was a businessman who wasn’t content to just let things be. If he saw something he didn’t like, he changed it. If he saw how things could be better, he’d speak up.

“I’m paying for everything, why shouldn’t I speak my mind?” he’d ask rhetorically. As a cattle guy, he wasn’t much for subtly; he made a habit of speaking his thoughts and that habit sometimes got him in trouble.

It was a family trait that I had inherited. When the news came to me that Gramps had bought the team, I was floored; at the time, I was looking into going overseas to play in Europe. I had gone undrafted and no one seemed interested in me … which was to be expected.

I was a loudmouth as a kid and too damn smart for my own good. I graduated high school at 16 and went to Indianapolis University or UIndy as we liked to call it. The school wasn’t my first choice — in fact, I wanted to get a Division I scholarship to the Hoosiers. But they didn’t offer me. At 16 I was barely 6’ tall and I hadn’t exactly lit up the high school scene (in truth, I spent a lot of time glued to the bench because my high school coach hated me — I constantly nitpicked his plays and he punished me by not playing me).

Gramps offered to pay for me to go to school anywhere, but I told him flat out I was going to go to the school that would let me play ball. UIndy was the only school in state that would — gave me a full scholarship and everything. So, I went and graduated from there in two years (it wasn’t hard). In that time, I grew six inches, practiced religiously, scored a ton, helped me team get a winning record … but got no national coverage at all.

Or any coverage, actually, because we were UIndy. There were half-a-dozen other schools in the state that were more popular than us and had a better shot at making March Madness than we did. I stuck my name in for the draft, I didn’t get drafted, and I was officially a free agent.

With no prospects of playing in the NBA until my grandfather bought the Pacers.

“I’m gonna get you a try out, boy,” Gramps told me when he informed me of his most recent purchase. “But that’s it — I’m not going to tell them who you are, just that I owed your agent a favor. You have to do the rest.”

The next day, on the 27th, Gramps fired the front office and the coaching staff.

“We need to move forward, not back,” Gramps told the press. “I didn’t buy this team to keep doing the same things … I have a plan and I have people ready to help me execute that plan. The Pacers are under new management — don’t assume we’re doing anything that was done before.”

Gramps was never one to sit on his hands. He got rid of Pritchard and McMillian and hired guys he knew well (and liked): Gersson Rosas (VP of the Rockets), and Kevin McHale (former coach of the Rockets). Rosas was ready to take on the challenge of building the Pacers into a contender, McHale was ready to get back into the coaching game after two years off. Both were guys who had spent years in Texas, which is why Gramps hired them — he knew them well from all the times he had gone and visited the Rockets.

Gramps was sure he had made the hires he needed to get the Pacers back into title contention. “As much as I loved Larry Bird, he never understood how to win in this day and age,” Gramps said. “Rosas is a forward thinker, McHale can adapt, and I don’t employ a losing strategy — if *hit ain’t working, you have to change. If you don’t, then you have to go: adapt or die, it’s the name of the game.”

I had my tryout on the 29th. I went in and nailed it — 6’6” with the ability to play 1-3, I wasn’t going to be denied. My training had paid off and I impressed. I was signed to a contract the next day, negotiated it myself — cheapest deal they could give me for four years. I didn’t need the money … I had plenty thanks to my family, and I had invested pretty well with the funds I had to my own name.

Of course, with me on the roster, the Pacers were full up on guys. The new front office waived Damian Wilkins, then engaged in a trade to move some guys out.

We unloaded Thad and Joe Young, along with Al Jefferson and a scrub. The trade freed up playing time for the team’s younger guys, gave us a defensive anchor in Lopez, and a prospect in Valentine that Gramps loved.

“Kid can play and he needs a fresh start,” Gramps told me. “He’ll be important to this team before it’s all said and done.”

The team was definitely different and the goal had been set: we were going to grow this season, together, as a squad, and we weren’t aiming to tank. McHale and Rosas were there to build a contender, and so was I.

Pacers basketball wasn’t about to be doomed because Paul George wanted out. It was his right to skip town if he wanted to, but I wasn’t about to let the team and the state down. Indiana basketball was special … it was something that no one else had, that nowhere else understood. It was something the state used to be proud of.

Gramps and I were absolutely determined to make it that way again.

Little did we know how hard it was going to be.

**Teleo** · 10-08-2017, 09:20 PM

Re: You Don't Know Jack: A Pacers Story

REALLY looking forward to this!

**OilCountry93** · 10-11-2017, 12:28 PM

Re: You Don't Know Jack: A Pacers Story

Hey Trek, I've been a longtime lurker of your dynasties. Just wanted to say they are fantastic, and I've been looking forward to this new one to start. Not a huge a huge basketball fan (more of a hockey guy but I always watch the finals and love my boy LeBron) but man do you ever get me sucked in through your dynasties.

**studbucket** · 10-11-2017, 03:18 PM

Re: You Don't Know Jack: A Pacers Story

Awesome, love the premise and backstory. This will be great!

**trekfan** · 10-12-2017, 09:02 AM

Re: You Don't Know Jack: A Pacers Story

Originally posted by Teleo

REALLY looking forward to this!

I'm looking forward to it too -- thanks for the comment!

Originally posted by OilCountry93

Hey Trek, I've been a longtime lurker of your dynasties. Just wanted to say they are fantastic, and I've been looking forward to this new one to start. Not a huge a huge basketball fan (more of a hockey guy but I always watch the finals and love my boy LeBron) but man do you ever get me sucked in through your dynasties.

A hockey fellow, welcome! I'm flattered that you read my stuff, thanks for the follow. Feel free to comment as much as you want, all questions/comments are welcome

Originally posted by studbucket

Awesome, love the premise and backstory. This will be great!

Thanks, stud, looking forward to rolling this one out -- definitely got some cool things in the can for it, assuming stuff goes the way I *think* it will.

We'll have our first game and results up this afternoon, stay tuned.

**trekfan** · 10-12-2017, 04:17 PM

Re: You Don't Know Jack: A Pacers Story

Ch. 2

Training camp with McHale was interesting, to say the least. Not so much for the system – pace and space is about movement, of the players and the ball, and constantly being aware of scoring opportunities. Me, VO (Victor Oladipo), Lance (Stephenson), DC (Daren Colinson), and CJ (Corey Joseph) were the ball-handlers. We were the guys who were going to primarily run this offense.

Training camp was about getting the basics down. All that season, we were going to be learning stuff on the fly about each other, about the system, about our coaches, and about our place in the NBA. Training camp wasn't anything special, but it was memorable for all the wrong reasons.

The country was suffering pretty badly in the year 2017. We had a new president, who was about as divisive as you could get, and the month of September had been full of hurricanes, hammering away at Houston and Puerto Rico. Everyone knew someone affected.

Then the Vegas shooting happened.

Then you had the anthem protests going on in the NFL.

Then there were the California wildfires.

The USA seemed to be falling apart. If it wasn’t natural disasters, it was man-made ones. Players across all sports were being challenged to take a side, pick a lane, make their voices heard … it wasn't good enough just to play sports now. You couldn't just be someone who “stuck to sports” and just went out and played.

For the first time in a long time, athletes were looked at to add to the conversation. To guide it, to shape it, to fuel it. Political activism, long held as a great way to get blackballed, was allowed. The NFL was trying to muzzle their players. The NBA?

They let us speak up. They let the coaches speak up. And did we ever speak.

Training camp was important not because of the system *hit or the coaching *hit, but because of the conversation it forced me and my teammates to have. As a privileged, rich *rick of a white-kid, I wasn't exactly effected by the issues brought up. But I had friends who were, and I watched *hit go down in high school and college that I could have solved with money.

But the people actually affected by it couldn't solve at all. The world was – and still is – a messy place. That's just the fate of it as long as humans are around. We're a *ucked up bunch, trying not to *uck up too badly, but failing more often than not. Basketball players are human, too, despite the things we do on the court. Sure, we look like superheroes, but really we're just a bunch of guys who won the genetic lottery – just the right amount of some things that gave us the physical gifts to succeed in a sport predicated on being a physical specimen.

We were all human beings and so we all had to decide what we were going to do, as a team, to comment on things. There was talk about kneeling for that national anthem – that was what the NFL was doing – but the NBA had a policy against that. We all decided that wasn't the way we were going to go.

But we weren't simply going to stand there. We figured, after the game, we could all give our takes on things – there'd be no shortage of media people who would ask us questions. On the court, though, we wanted a strong message. We wanted to do something that might piss a few people off, but was an integral part of the sport – of any sport, really.

Game 1 of the 2017-18 season was against the Nets in our building. During the anthem, we didn't just stand in a line.

We decided to rally together.

It was different, to be sure, and it was something we did for the rest of that year – we didn't just stand together, we came together, rallied around one another, and showed that we were a team. Ultimately, that was the message we wanted to get across – that rather than *itching and moaning at one another because of how we voted or whether we stood or knelt, we needed to *ucking support one another.

We needed to come together and get this *hit fixed.

The Indy crowd was cool with it – no boos, no racial *hit. After the anthem, we took the court – after all we had a *ucking game to play and we wanted to be sure to send another message: that we weren't going to lie down.

All offseason, NBA pundits were telling us that the team was going to be hot garbage. “Pacers will tank” and “Indy devoid of talent after George” were the kind of headlines we were seeing online. Even with Gramps buying the team and me getting there, the tone was the same.

“Tate benefits from nepotism” was the common thread for pundits. ESPN was hammering my addition to the team (even though no one knew who I was when I was told I made it – yet the media skipped over that detail) and Gramps was getting hammered for adding me.

“Let 'em whine,” he would say. “You got talent, boy. Talent and drive and that's why you made the team, not because of your damned name. When you're out there, you gotta show them that.”

He was right, of course, but it pissed me off to no end that I was being made to look like a pity case. I didn't need pity. I didn't need a favor.

So I took it out on the Nets. Hell, the whole team used the Nets as a cathartic release. The first quarter was a barn-burner, as we both traded the lead back and forth. I was matched up against Russell, VO was going against Crabbe, and MT (Myles Turner) was facing off against Trevor Booker. We had ROLO (Robin Lopez, the big goof) going against Mosgov. Boddog (Bogdanovic) was matched up on Hollis-Jefferson.

The game's pace was FAST. We didn't try to play slow – I certainly didn't want to play slow. Get up, get down, get a good shot before the defense is set, get it done. That was my mindset. The first quarter we went, and went, and went – but so did the Nets. We just weren't able to get our defense set fast enough to counteract their offense.

It was a shootout through the first, we were only leading by one point, but MT was lighting them up – he hit two deep triples (both off beautiful assists from myself) and had 10 points at the end of one.

In the second, our offense exploded — VO took over as point man, I shifted to the three, and ROLO got in foul trouble. With him out, we had to shift in DS (Sabonis) and DS played like a man who was tired of hearing he was a bust. He played like he was ready to remind people why his last name meant something. He was left open for triples and he took them — and made a few!

We were all floored, but *uck if the Nets had any idea what to do. They brought in Carroll to play as the four, shifting Booker onto DS. Nope — he just lit into Booker in the post and on cuts. Sabonis was ALIVE and he set hard screens, cut to the rim, and slammed in dunks.

If he wasn’t doing that, he was boxing guys out. He was the star of the second quarter and the reason why we had such a huge lead at halftime.

In the second half, it became a game within a game. Sure, we were beating the pants off the Nets, but now we — the players — wanted to see who could beat them better. MT was schooling the Nets bigs all over the floor, but VO was playing nasty defense and forcing the Nets into bad passes, which I happily picked off. VO didn’t slack in the scoring department either — he was ready to show off his hops.

But so was I.

By the fourth, we were running away with it. We played our starters all the way to the 3:20 mark before subbing in our bench guys — it was an epic beatdown and a game we were feeling pretty good about. I came away with the player of the game honors … the second half, I made the Nets my *itch and made sure they knew it.

The headline for our win?

“Tate, Pacers, blow away Brooklyn”

Have that one framed on my wall.

**Killuminati** · 10-12-2017, 05:46 PM

Re: You Don't Know Jack: A Pacers Story

Following!

I always love good storylines with these dynasty threads. It really adds a lot to the enjoyment of it for me instead of just stats.

Big win over Brooklyn. I'm looking forward to seeing how this season plays out for Tate as he tries to prove the haters wrong that he's only on the team because of Gramps. I'd say he's off to a good start.

Looking forward to more updates!

Sent from my N9560 using Operation Sports mobile app

**asvpxhughuet** · 10-12-2017, 07:18 PM

Re: You Don't Know Jack: A Pacers Story

trek, you always know how to make an amazing dynasty and what a way to start this one! Great intro story and great first match, Jack really came out of his shell. Once again I will be following the whole thing and eagerly waiting for new posts! Keep up the good work brother, amazing as always.

**trekfan** · 10-14-2017, 11:13 AM

Re: You Don't Know Jack: A Pacers Story

Ch. 3

The next game was a home tilt against the Blazers, whom we absolutely rolled on. Our offense was firing on all cylinders and we looked like a threat early on — it was a good look. It got people talking, it got a buzz in the air, but the majority of pundits — real and self-made — were counting us out.

“The Pacers? They’ll be dead by the all-star-break!” was the common theme in all the articles and comments I read. Yeah, I know, athletes like to pretend we don’t read that *hit, that our focus is “on the game” and we got better things to do than tour the Internet, looking for motivation.

But Kevin Durant let that cat out of the bag that offseason with his burner accounts — we all had at least one. One account that we used to surf the web and take the pulse of the people. I had one, sure, but I rarely posted from it or did anything with it … it was just there for me to use to cruise. IF I was dumb enough to post something, it wouldn’t be tied back to my main account.

And sometimes I did post *hit just to stir the pot. Sometimes it felt good to poke the nest of critics and know-it-alls.

Anyway, we were 2-0 and being dismissed like we were a division III team with an undefeated record.

Sure, we stomped the Nets into oblivion. Sure, we beat the pants off the Blazers — a playoff team from the year before out West (the “Superior Conference”). But the conversation was still about how much we were going to lose, not how much we were going to win.

Luckily for us, we were traveling to Miami, to take on the team the media absolutely fawned over the last season — the Heat, who went 30-11 to end the year and just barely miss the playoffs. Everyone was sure they would make it this year, that the amazing mix of chemistry, coaching, and continuity would result in the Heat climbing back into the postseason, where anything could happen.

It all sounded good on paper, but we were aiming to crush the Heat. We wanted to establish our name — our team — and doing it against a rival was doubly sweet.

It was an ugly, defensive battle in the first half. I wasn’t exactly firing on all cylinders — we flew from Indiana to Miami after the Blazer game, and the flight kinda wrecked me. Cross-country travel for back-to-back games wasn’t something I had to worry about at UIndy — we were such a small-time school and we play fewer games than in an NBA regular season.

The first half was an eyesore. Lots of turnovers by both teams, misfired passes, clanking shots, and hard fouls. If you think the Heat didn’t take us seriously, you’d be wrong — Miami treated every game seriously, it was just the way Pat Riley ran things (he was a psycho when it came to running practices and Spolestra was kinda like that from what I heard) and the history between the two teams was there.

It wasn’t 2014, they didn’t have Wade and LeBron, we didn’t have Hibbert and George, but we battled — hard— and so did they. Halftime rolled around and we were shooting north of 36% from the field. Miami was shooting 33% and guys were getting knocked around a lot.

I wasn’t doing so good in the first half — 14 points, 4-13 shooting, and a lot of shots from the line.

Foul trouble had sent MT to the bench for a good portion of the second and scoring was coming from ROLO and the bench. That couldn’t hold forever — especially since Whiteside had three fouls before the half and he’d be back out there in the third quarter. McHale pulled us in, told us we needed to slow our pace down a bit — we were playing too fast, getting caught in a run-and-gun game, and that’s what Miami wanted — we would tire out before them thanks to the schedule.

The second half, we came out and started slinging *ucking beautiful passes. ROLO bullied Whiteside into the post, waited, turned and — rather than shoot — slung a bounce pass to a cutting Valentine and the former Bull just HAMMERED IT.

Our bench went wild and it set us off on a little run. The third we battled, back and forth, to pull away — nearly had a 12-point lead before Tyler Johnson hit a triple, bringing the lead back down to just 9. Whiteside got hit with foul number four towards the end of the third and so he went to the bench … Olynyk came in.

You’d think that meant we pounded the post, but no — Olynyk worked the boards, drew fouls, and just frustrated our bigs. The Heat went to a five-out lineup and we only ended the third up 80-73.

The third was better for me — I had 22 points by the beginning of the fourth, but I needed to get the guys around me more involved. So I started driving and dishing. Shots started to fall, but the Heat played a similar strategy … until Waiters went down on a shot.

He hit a mid-range runner but tripped all over VO’s legs coming down, and sprained his foot. He was out of the game and the Heat players were not pleased.

VO started getting fouled heading inside — a message was being sent, clearly — and he was missing his shots. The beating he was taking was getting to him.

I went away from him, as much as I wanted to get him the ball, and started dishing it to MT and Bogdog — both responded with huge performances, Bogdog in particular because he had been frozen out all game by the defense. But with MT cutting inside, that opened up space for him to do what he did best — rain triples.

And he hit not one, but two on back-to-back possessions from deep that extended our lead to 11-points with under 3:30 to go.

The Heat took a timeout, but we knew they were done.

It was a big win against a quality opponent and a rival — not a pretty game overall, but good enough at the end to get us to 3-0.

**trekfan** · 10-14-2017, 04:54 PM

Re: You Don't Know Jack: A Pacers Story

Ch. 4

The first game of November came against the Cavaliers, in Cleveland, after playing the Kings on our homecourt — we were, once again, gifted another *hit back-to-back and this time we were expected to compete with the defending conference champs, and the 2016 NBA champs.

Oh, and this guy named LeBron James — who, according to some, is the GOAT. In my opinion, it’s absolutely the correct call — LeBron is the GOAT. Sure, Jordan did things LeBron didn’t — two three-peats, to name one — but LeBron did something Jordan probably couldn’t have done: he gave Cleveland a title after going down 3-1 to one of the greatest teams of all-time. Jordan couldn’t have pulled that off, not how LeBron did.

I’m biased of course. I played against LeBron, grew up watching him, and that makes it hard to pick Jordan over him. That first year I was in the league, playing against LeBron was a real treat — I was a fan of his (who wasn’t?) and I wanted to show I belonged on the same floor as him. I wasn’t a scrub. I wasn’t just there because of my name — I had mother*ucking talent.

That first matchup, we lucked out because the Cavs were a bit hobbled. Thomas was out recovering from surgery he had in the offseason, so Rose was starting at the point and Wade was being held out because of a bruised hip — the Cavs didn’t want to risk any long-term injuries during the regular season. This was a team built for the playoffs and nothing else. League injuries, as a whole, were beginning to show up across all teams.

They were 6-1. We were 5-2, coming off big wins against the Wolves and Kings (and a big, fat loss to OKC — holy hell were they a handful).

It was throwback night in Cleveland, so we suited up in a classic uniform and so did the Cavs. The game was, by no means, a throwback performance — it was a scoring affair form the first tip. Points flew from the mid-range, the arc, and inside the paint — defense was optional. LeBron, of course, ate through Bogdog like he wasn’t there. McHale switched things up midway through the first and stuck me on King James …

I didn’t fair much better. LeBron was a powerful fellow and I was just a skinny kid in that first season. Muscles? I had them, but not nearly as many as LBJ. He shot over me, under me, around me, and drove into me — got me into foul trouble and off the floor I went towards the end of the first with 7 points and two fouls.

Luckily, the rest of the team stepped up in my absence — notably VO. Oladipo absolutely obliterated all of the Cavs guards on him — Rose, Shumpert, Korver, Smith — they all were unable to slow him down. VO kept us in the game as the Cavs got HOT from deep (Korver was just deadly off the screen and VO couldn’t slow him in the second) but we kept launching shots too. We kept pounding it inside, put them in the bonus, and used the foul line to keep our hopes alive.

Halftime came around and we were down 70-65 in a barnburner … if that barn had *ucking napalm dropped on it. LeBron had 27 points, was crushing anyone guarding him, and there was no slowing him down.

The third rolled around and McHale kept my *ss glued to the bench as I had picked up a third foul right before halftime. But our opening third quarter squad, they not only held serve, they closed the gap, all thanks to Darren Collison. DC just lit up the Cavs, Rose couldn’t stay in front of him, and he didn’t shy away from contact inside — he sought out the bigs, sought out the contact, and got to the line.

That gave us the burst we needed to overcome LeBron, who took a good part of the third off — and that’s when McHale stuck me back in. Between me, DC, VO, and MT we were scoring in every way. Kickouts, dish and drives, free throw shooting, corner triples … it was a sight to behold. Cleveland fell behind 100-96 entering the final frame.

LeBron had carried a ton of the load up to that point and he started to wear down. Defensively, Bogdog finally got free for some easy buckets. LeBron was missing some gimmes and the shots weren’t falling for Smith or Korver. The Cavs still cleaned our clock on the glass (Thompson was a glass-cleaner extraordinarie) but we made the shots we needed to.

We escaped Cleveland with a win that looked really good, but we knew it wasn’t representative of the true Cleveland team. Once Thomas came back, they were going to be a different squad — a deadlier one.

But, at 6-2, we were feeling pretty damned good about our chances.

**Killuminati** · 10-14-2017, 06:45 PM

Re: You Don't Know Jack: A Pacers Story

Great wins, especially over the Heat and Cavs. I am very excited to see how things go with your team against them once the Cavs get healthy like you mentioned.

I enjoyed the write up on the Heat game. Seems like there is still some bad blood between the squads. There have been some great playoff series between those 2 teams and I would love it if they happen to meet again during this dynasty. That would be interesting to say the least and hopefully this time around, Indy can come out on top!

Sent from my N9560 using Operation Sports mobile app

**trekfan** · 10-15-2017, 09:58 AM

Re: You Don't Know Jack: A Pacers Story

Ch. 5

We were flying high after beating the Cavs. It was hard not to — we were a young squad, we had a lot of energy — and we took that energy into our next game against the 76ers. We smacked them around 109-91, then we traveled to New York to take on the Knicks: chalk up another win, 109-100.

Four games straight we had won and it was a good feeling, a *ucking great feeling … and then we went back home to Indy and got our *sses kicked by the Pelicans. Thad Young had a solid double-double (15 points, 10 boards) and he reminded the team why sending him away was a mistake … NOLA had a winning record, they were hanging tough out West.

I dismissed it as a fluke game — but we had to travel that night to Detroit to take on the Pistons. We lost by ten points and that wasn’t a fluke, we just played badly — I couldn’t get a shot to go down to save my life (I was 4-17 from the filed — it was a bad night) and we spiraled. Two days later we played what was left of the Bulls and lost by five points. We traveled back home and lost to the Rockets 116-83, getting a lesson in humility.

We would have liked to win that one for McHale, but it wasn’t meant to be … and then we traveled to Memphis, to take on the Grizzlies who were 3-10, among the worst teams in the league. We barely won — we escaped by five points and our confidence was cratering. Over the last five games, we were 1-4.

November 17th, we welcomed the Pistons to our home and, with the frustrations over our recent losses building, I flat out told the team I was going to kick their *ss. I was pissed, I was mad, and I wanted them to be mad with me. We were dressing in our statement uniforms that night, our home golds, and we wanted to make a statement in them.

Personally, I was ashamed of my play over the last five games … what kind of leader has a stretch like that? What kind of player, who supposedly belongs on the court with the LeBrons and CP3s of the world, plays like I did? It was a bad stretch — looking back at it now, I get that, everybody has those (Jordan, LeBron, everyone) — but as a 19-year old kid, I didn’t get that at all. Every game was a chance to prove I belonged there or prove I didn’t … and I felt like I was proving everyone right that I didn’t belong there.

I couldn’t let that stand, but the first quarter didn’t help my mindset. Detroit came out and played us physical — we wanted pace and space, they played classic SVG 4 in, 1 out offense. They ran things through Drummond, who was a load in the low post and ROLO was having problems early covering him. Hell, we were all having problems … just a hair late on a rotation here, just a bit short on a shot there, and the arena could feel us pressing.

The crowd pressed right back. Nervousness was in the building — the Pistons were 11-3 and looked really, really good. It was like SVG of the Orlando days was coaching them. We were just 9-6, coming off a lot of losses … and I was tired of it. I wanted off that damn ride. In the first quarter, I picked up two early fouls, and found myself on the pine once again.

Without me there, our offensive flow in the first was just off and we ended the quarter down 25-21. In the second, McHale let me stay on the bench and let the second unit get In there. Led by DC, he and ROLO did a great rendition of little guy passes to big guy. The Pistons countered with their own substitution, Marjanovic, who was a cult favorite of the crowd. Boban and Drummond went twin-towers, and that ate us alive inside. We lost the rebounding battle, we kept giving up second-chance points, but timely triples kept us afloat.

Midway through the second I came back in at the three. McHale told me, straight up, that if I got another foul I’d sit for the rest of the half. I couldn’t be subject to my emotions out there, I had to keep focused … one possession at a time. One play at a time.

He told me to do what I did best — get inside, muck it up, play above the rim, do the things they weren’t used to seeing. In the second, I decided to launch into a full out assault on the rim.

I had the space thanks to some sick picks set by ROLO and MT. My bigs gave me the space to work and I fed them right back. We were tired all up at 52 at halftime. In the third, I throttled back and tried to get VO involved — no dice. He was struggling badly and we just couldn’t get him going at all. His defense was good, as usual, but his shot had just left him. VO wasn’t too despondent though, he kept plugging away, and he had some nice kickouts.

Still, the game was close — really too close — at the end of three. We were only up 81-78 entering the final frame. *hit was going to hit the fan if we lost this game … we needed a win. We desperately needed a win. The fourth rolled around and McHale stuck the entire starting lineup back in. He trusted us to close out the game … and we closed it out. MT started hitting some triples, ROLO grabbed tough boards, and I just set my mind to scoring as much as I could.

Mid-range pullups. Dunks. Layups. I was flying all over the court, causing havoc, getting to the line, and anytime I missed, Myles Turner cleaned it up — he racked up a career high in rebounds (21), and we pulled away in the fourth, getting a big win over a rival that we really needed.

We were only 10-6, barely a few games over .500, but we still had a winning record. But the rest of the East wasn’t going to be as easy as pundits predicted.

**trekfan** · 10-15-2017, 11:56 AM

Re: You Don't Know Jack: A Pacers Story

Ch. 6

We were 11-7 as we welcomed the Raptors, 11-6, to our homecourt. We were still floating above .500, but teams weren’t taking us for granted anymore — we were getting respect as the season went on, which was great on one hand, but *hitty on the other because the element of surprise was gone. People weren’t sleeping on what I, MT, and everyone else could do. We were obviously onto something, at least with MT and me. The Tate to Turner connection was live and it was LIT.

But the rest of the team was a question mark. We were clearly a team playing well-above how good we were supposed to be … a classic overachieving squad. And that Raptors game proved it in spades.

Toronto was a team on another level. Our record may have been similar, but they played like they had been together for years (and they had). No matter what we threw out at them in the first half, they had a response. We hit a three? They went to DeRozan (who roasted us), who went into the post for and-1. We get a defensive stop, they hustled back and locked down the paint. Toronto allowed us no breathing room took a one point lead into halftime, 59-58.

In the third, DeRozan was unleashed. Already with 27 points at the break, he just went to work on us, over and over and over. His moves in the paint were frustrating to watch and equally impressive. We went down by 10 points three minutes into the third and that lead just kept growing, little by little. McHale stuck all the starters back in at the 7:00 mark, far earlier than usual, just to try and stem the tide … it worked for a little while. We whittled the lead down to just 7 points before the wheels came off again when Lowry checked back in.

In the fourth, with the crowd growing pensive, we tried to battle back. I took it upon myself to get things going, I tried to will us to win … and instead of getting the W, I got injured. Throwing myself into the lane, I let loose a wobbly mid-range shot that went in but landed badly on my foot.

I knew immediately I had hurt something. I got helped off the court as the crowd fell silent and I felt like I had been pronounced dead. Dread filled my mind as I was escorted back to the locker room. The trainers examined me and what they found definitely wasn’t the worst thing in the world, only a severely sprained ankle. I would be out 2-4 weeks from what I was told.

I definitely wouldn’t be playing before that … and with me out, the team lost pretty badly to the Raptors.

Gramps came by before the game ended to look me over — he was pretty worked up over it. Understandably so, considering everyone he lost in his life. After assuring him I was okay — and after the trainers backed me up in that assertion — he took out a stick of gum from his pocket, popped it into his mouth, and chewed away as we watched the rest of the game.

“Boy, I think we’re going to sink this year … just enough to make the lottery,” he told me.

I wanted to argue that, but couldn’t. I watched the film. I saw the play on the court. We definitely weren’t ready to threaten for a playoff spot yet … we were close, but we still had too many holes. “I’m going try my hardest to make sure that we make the playoffs,” I told him.

“Oh, I know. And that’s good — if you were trying to lose on purpose, I’d kick your *ss off the team without a thought.” He pulled out a stick of gum and handed it to me. “But you ain’t built like that.”

“No, sir.” I popped the gum into my mouth and started chewing. Gramps had taken up chewing gum to deal with his smoking habit — he quit the day my parents died. He was determined not to leave me alone in the world. My grandmother had died ten years before from a heart attack, and so it was just me and my grandfather. Gramps chewed gum anytime he got stressed, always had a few packs of different brands in his pockets.

We chewed a lot of gum at a lot of games over the years. Indiana basketball was stressful *hit.

“Who are you going to trade if we start sinking?”

Gramps gave me a pat on the shoulder. “Not gonna burden you with that. But you’re smart enough to figure out who’s likely out.” With that, he left the locker room with me on the trainers table.

We lost, badly. I was pretty sure that might become a regular thing moving forward.

**Killuminati** · 10-15-2017, 03:19 PM

Re: You Don't Know Jack: A Pacers Story

Tough break with the injury!

Things have definitely taken a turn for the worst, but that's to be expected with a young team. Maybe the rest of the team can step up now until Tate gets back from his injury so that they are still in the mix for the playoff race.

Will you be playing games now that Tate is hurt or are you planning to sim until he returns?

Great work as always! I'm looking forward to more updates!

Sent from my N9560 using Operation Sports mobile app

You Don't Know Jack: A Pacers Story

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