Part 1 of “Forever.”
My Father suddenly loved that my brother and I loved the Pacers. He took us to downtown Indianapolis, got out of the car with a wad of cash we had never seen. I was a teenager and knew everything and nothing at the same time. He returned $1000 poorer and told my brother and me to have a good time at the game. Without a ticket for him, I learned everything about life, or started to. The Pacers, that day, where Rik Smits answered my questions about the thunder of my city, and to now, continues to be the refuge of where to look for life; doing our best, and dammit, believing in ourselves.
What follows is what I wrote that breaks the rules. I will let it out with the soul of Nancy and Bobby “Slick” Leonard and the Reggie Miller shooting-the-shot spirit.
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The smoke, in both games between the Cavs and Pacers in Cleveland, has hung in the air. Anyone can review the broadcasts, and anyone who has been to an NBA playoff game knows there are non-televised pyrotechnics. There are fireworks.
Pete Dinwiddie when he was with the Pacers (photo courtesy Indianapolis Business Journal)
I reached out to my college buddy from Indiana University, Peter Dinwiddie. Pete can correct me if I’m wrong, but the way I know the story is that when Larry Bird was running the Pacers, he saw an up-and-coming sales guy for the newly formed Indiana Fever of the WNBA. The funny part about Pete is that he had just finished law school. And he was selling a lot of tickets. Bird was intrigued, and that relationship led to Pete being an early architect of the WNBA, Larry, of course, casually just directing greatness. Caitlen Clark was not there. She is now, and Pete went from a Vice President of the Pacers to the front office of the 76ers. So, yeah, he matters.
I get one text a year from Pete. I try to stick to it.
So I asked him about the smoke in stadiums from an executive’s perspective. He got back to me, too. He’s a deft and hardworking guy and one of the best I know, so his response mattered: “No comment.”
And like a bounce pass, I realized I had to overcome what I was struggling with in this article: it is about me, told correctly. I am commenting, and that is my role. Thanks, Pete.
Back to the smoke. It usually clears. Go to an NFL game, and you must explain to young or casual viewers, “It will go away; it’s from all the pregame fireworks.”
The Sports Column, and its editor, Frank Fear, have become familiar to me, primarily for writing Pacers articles no one else would write; Fear publishes like some long-lost professor. Frank recently complimented me on a podcast for being a “true journalist” by leaving myself out of the story. It is squarely the best compliment I’ve ever received.
There is no way I could, or should, leave myself out of the state of the Pacers. They are who I am, and, like Reggie’s recent appearance on Stephon Jackson’s hugely successful podcast All the Smoke, I’ve got my story too, because I was there.
So if I’m going to “cheat the article,” as so many writers and personalities do, I plan to bring the smoke. And where there is smoke, there is fire.
Burn with me. Kurt Vonnegut, my literary hero and Indianapolis laureate, advised starting a story as close to the end as possible. Vonnegut knew a thing or two about fires. His seminal classic Slaughterhouse Five is about the firebombing of Dresden, Germany, while he was a prisoner of war. He sheltered during the bombing in the slaughterhouse. He was forced to clean out the unfathomable human tragedy afterward.
In Indiana, we believe in coaching. Coach Vonnegut says to start at the end.
Tyrese on May 6 (photo courtesy MSN)
Tyrese Haliburton became the second coming of Reggie Miller on Tuesday, May 6, almost to the hour of Reggie’s iconic eight points in 8.9 seconds against the Knicks in 1990-ish; a Vonnegut cough, you know what happened.
That’s the beginning. Kurt would give me grief for taking so long. But I think he’d be on board for the finish…
I wasn’t gonna write this unless the Pacers won tonight. With the Game 3 loss at home, the first in Haliburton’s Pacer playoff career, 9-1 now, I realized, Ty, I gotta do this article for you. I’ll start it, you finish.
Clear as day, Reggie Miller’s funny ears stuck out on local news after the Pacers drafted him. We had Chuck Person. We weren’t any good, but I’d seen Chuck play Larry Bird a couple of times in the early ’80s.
I’m not quite old enough to have been to the ABA, the last time my Pacers were champions. But I know about Nancy Leonard, the wife of “Slick,” the longtime Pacer broadcaster; an Indiana University champion, coach of those ABA teams, and a guy I figured out I could have a smoke with at halftime when my brother and I eventually had season tickets in the 2000s.
I have a signed copy of his book. Rest in peace, Slick. I know you would back this commentary: Nancy is the most important Pacer, period.
Nancy and Slick Leonard (photo courtesy Indy Star)
It’s undoubtedly a “back in the good old days” situation. But, if you’ve read this far, seek it out… Nancy cries on Channel 4, one of those local, musty, smoky old channels we used to have. She was one tough cookie. And she cried because the Channel 4 telethon had raised enough money to save the Pacers. I am humble about a lot of things. But if you wear the Blue and Gold and haven’t taken a minute to see that… well, we are polite in Indiana. Please do it now.
I originally wrote this sentiment: “As I age, and since I’m in this article, I will teach: Go look up Nancy. You will see the lava-hot moment, which is so genuine that it makes you cry when she hits the mark to save the Pacers.”
What even the best Pacer historian, the Reggie champions, the brawl commentators, the Paul George lovers and haters, the IU grads who pine over Victor Oladipo’s injuries, and might have forgotten the heroics… The kids like me who played with Vern Fleming’s twin brother at the YMCA on Westfield Ave in Indianapolis…
We miss out on Nancy. She was a real executive in a man’s world. She saved the Pacers. There is no Caitlen Clark without Nancy Leonard—probably no Cheryl Miller, and certainly not Reggie.
So, Tyrese, my name is Derek. I’m from Indy. I’m a writer and a teacher who would never advise putting yourself in a sports story.
Teaching takes patience, Tyrese. You’ve been giving lessons. But I’ve changed this whole article because it appeared like a beautiful sunrise. It occurred to me that you don’t know enough about Nancy and Slick. Slick is like your pops a bit. He probably wouldn’t get caught on live TV, but he’d have given it to Giannis, too. Nancy is Caitlen, undeterred and impressive.
I promised friends, family, and editors I’d write THE Pacers article soon. Ty, I can’t. If you don’t step up and finish what you started, I can’t either.
We are a team in Indiana.
Look to Nancy. Beg, borrow, and steal, but don’t ask for it.
Believe and get it. I will have your back.
And that is Indiana.
