'Easy way out' no option for the Blue and Gold

First appeared on March 5th, 2015
in The Lebanon Reporter

When two Tennessee girls’ high school teams met recently, each hoped to fulfill their lifelong goals and dreams by losing a game. This unconventional approach would have afforded one an opportunity to avoid a tournament match up with a local national power. A game that would have proven there are in fact three surefire things in life; death, taxes and total obliteration at the hands of Blackman High.

To avoid this fate, fans were treated to a bevvy of intentional turnovers and not-so-believable bricks. In short it was a performance capable of making even the Washington Generals blush.

And while the game should have been a convenient lesson in sportsmanship, it is perhaps an indicator of a larger issue. Between the Internet, Smart Phones, fast food, Twitter, programmable thermostats, plastic grocery bags and the Roomba, American culture has become about embracing the easy way out.

When Paul George destroyed his leg in a Team USA scrimmage in July, the Indiana Pacers could have taken the easy way out. Put David West on the shelf for a year and let Roy Hibbert work on developing his post game while the team floundered through a 20 win season.

Enter Larry Bird. Yes, he of the unfortunate too-short-shorts era, who also taught us about brilliant shot making and never taking the easy way out. It’s only fitting the Legend’s franchise would assume his demeanor. Kick me when I’m down, I’ll just get up and come back for more. And that’s exactly what the Pacers have done all year; come back for more.

Conventional wisdom had the Blue and Gold resigning themselves to mediocrity. Package Hibbert and George Hill for a new team bus and some fresh linens, take your lumps and hope the lottery balls bounce your way. Instead the Pacers have circled the wagons all year finding inspired play from one unlikely source after another. The formula is simple. Forget the place and time, forget the predictions and expectations and just play hard, play together and play with an edge.

In the middle of it all is the winningest coach in franchise history; Frank Vogel. From the start, Vogel has remained steadfast in his faith that this team can win. This despite dozens in the national media opining the solution to all of Indiana’s problems could be most easily found at the end of a Kim Jong Un missile.

But the Pacers are Blue Collar for a reason. Sure they may prove to be a punching bag for Cleveland in the first round, but they’ve at least shown the sports world there are alternatives to the easy way out. A championship may not be in the cards for everyone, so relish the moment instead and be the best you can be wherever you are.

So perhaps the next time some young girl in Tennessee thinks about shooting a lay up that scrapes the ceiling of the gym or throwing a pass to their mom in the stands, maybe they’ll stop and think about the 2015 Indiana Pacers instead. Maybe then they’ll understand there are alternatives to the easy way out.

Meanwhile, we go on plodding through life as our cable bill is automatically deducted from our bank account, which will automatically transfer funds if we’re overdrawn. We gripe about a half hour wait at a restaurant while using their complimentary Wi-Fi to chart a course to a different place to eat, one 45 minutes away with a far less wait. Check-in-Buddy puts our name in as we open a different app, one that shows us traffic times and 27 alternate routes.

© 2015 Eric Walker Williams

BREAKING NEWS: First Round exit not what Larry wanted

First appeared on May 1st, 2014
in The Lebanon Reporter

My dad took me to my first Indiana Pacers game at 13. It was a regular season tilt featuring Larry Bird’s World Champion Boston Celtics. And while I knew the Pacers weren’t good, finding Market Square a swirling sea of green, an army of auto mechanics and accountants shoulder to shoulder in the same Bird jerseys each swooning over Larry Legend, was completely unexpected.

The Celtics arrival had inspired the first sell out since the last time they were in town, prompting a silver haired usher to gush about the curtains finally being raised on the upper level. In the shadow of a World Champion, the Pacers played like a semi-pro team. The crowd surged with every shot Bird made, chanting his name after every pass he threaded, and cheered for every rebound he corralled. Everything about the night seemed out of place as 17,000 strong appeared to resent any resistance the Pacers put forth.

Meanwhile, from the row behind, two rosy cheeked draft experts blasted the Pacers 6’7 rookie wing for not being Steve Alford. The gangly kid from UCLA with the ears. “They should have drafted his sister, she’d help the Pacers more.” “He didn’t play for Knight, he doesn’t know basketball.” Brilliance personified.

Life is funny. Who could have known that so much of Indiana’s history as a franchise would be tied to that fateful night in 1987? Who knew that wide eyed rookie with the big ears would put the Pacers back on the map, shoot them into the Finals while sticking a finger in New York City’s eye along the way? Reggie Miller was fiery, fearless and played with a chip on his shoulder the size of Texas.

And when Reggie and Larry joined forces in 1997 Pacers fans rejoiced in George Costanza-like fashion, “Worlds are colliding!” But alas Reggie’s Hall of Fame career is over leaving Larry to look on helplessly from his perch along the baseline, in the city he once dominated as a champion, reduced to watching all his hopes and dreams for a Pacers’ Title swirl down the proverbial toilet.

This unforeseen tailspin has been rife with misery and heartbreak, confounding experts while putting a once effervescent head coach firmly on edge. And as Pacer Fans everywhere hold their collective breath, waiting for the moment the Hawks realize they are the 8 seed and decide to give up and go away, everyone with a brain has reached the conclusion this current group of Pacers are not Larry and Reggie.

They don’t necessarily play together. They don’t consistently outwork opponents. They aren’t hard-nosed and seem to floudner around in an unfocused manner for most of a 48 minute game. For proof one need look no further than Hawks Forward Mike Scott, Reggie would have told a Davis boy to put him in the second row before Scott could make five three pointers in a quarter (Larry would have done it himself).

By Nature Midwestern sports fans are a tolerant lot. They’re willing to suffer through almost anything (see Cubs, Chicago). But a perceived lack of effort is taboo in the Midwest. The Pacers branded themselves with defense and hard work, but there’s been nothing ‘Blue Collar’ about them since the calendar turned 2014.

This isn’t about X’s and O’s. It’s about guts, bravado and playing fearlessly. These are qualities that allowed Larry and Reggie to excel. These are also qualities the current Indiana Pacers would be well served to develop quickly. If Paul, David, Ringo and Roy don’t come to the realization soon that nothing easy is worth having, the only thing hanging from the rafters in Banker’s Life will be a curtain blocking empty seats.


© 2014 Eric Walker Williams

Rushmore not big enough for Indiana Legends

First appeared on February 14, 2014
in The Lebanon Reporter

Completed in 1941, Mount Rushmore’s sixty foot tall façade was carved from sheer rock, blasted by dynamite and chiseled by hand. Commemoration on a massive scale, and yet only four men were chosen. Four Presidents of the 29 grazing in the paddock at the time. So much for the Adams boys or Woodrow Wilson. And what do you say to William Howard Taft? “We’re sorry Mr. Former President Sir, but the geologists feared there just wasn’t enough rock in all of South Dakota to carve you.”

Thanks largely to its remote location and proximity to nothing, Mount Rushmore has become one of our most forgotten National Treasures. But it surfaced earlier this week when LeBron James, apparently trying to change the subject from the fact he’s been looking up at the Pacers all season, offered his “Mount Rushmore of the NBA” instead. In the world according to LeBron, the four greatest players ever are Larry, Magic, Michael and Oscar Robertson.

The fact half of King James’ choices included former Hoosiers was immediately apparent. And while his comments inspired a flurry of lists including everything from the “Rushmore of NFL Greats” to that of “Best Sports Equipment Managers”, it did get this Part Time Pretend Sports Columnist thinking.

In a state infatuated with round ball, is it possible to determine the four greatest players ever? Any list involving the state of Indiana’s Mount Rushmore of Basketball surely must include Oscar Robertson first. The Big O remains the only NBA player to average a triple double for an entire season. His trophy case boasts our nation’s first State Title won by an all black school (’55-Crispus Attucks), a gold medal (‘60 Olympics) and a World Championship (‘71 Milwaukee Bucks).

The Rocket would be next. Rick Mount’s picture perfect jumper and propensity for scoring propelled him onto a historic 1966 Sports Illustrated cover. This honor did more than introduce a phenom to the nation, it threw a national spotlight on Indiana High School basketball, effectively becoming the cornerstone for our state’s reputation as a hotbed for the sport. After 50 years, Mount’s 2,595 career points at Lebanon still ranks fourth all time in state history and his 2,323 points at Purdue is still the most ever scored by a Boilermaker. All this, it should be noted, done while being a sharpshooter with dynamic range playing in an era without a three point line.

Larry Bird’s journey began in the hills of Orange County. At Springs Valley High he averaged 31 points, 21 rebounds and 4 assists before going on to lead tiny Indiana State to a watershed Final Four match-up with Michigan State’s Magic Johnson. As a Celtic, Bird earned 3 league MVP’s and 3 NBA Championships in addition to a gold medal playing for the single greatest basketball team ever assembled (Note to younger readers: google the ‘92Dream Team’).

The fourth and final face was admittedly most difficult. Honorable mention goes to Marion Pierce, George McGinnis and Damon Bailey, but in the end it’s Steve Alford. A former Mr. Basketball (’83), Olympic Gold Medalist (’84) and NCAA Champion (’87), Alford was also a two time NCAA All American while playing for the legendary Bobby Knight at Indiana University.

From John Wooden to the Milan Miracle to over 150 players who’ve gone on to play professionally, Indiana has more than a passion for basketball, it has a rich history as well. And you can forget the side of a mountain, true Hoosiers will want these faces painted on the roof of an old Mail Pouch Tobacco barn somewhere far from the beaten path.

© 2014 Eric Walker Williams

Its not such a 'Wonderful Life' in NBA

First appeared on December 28, 2013
in The Lebanon Reporter

Outside of therapy or a Phil Jackson locker room meditation ceremony, there’s no better exercise for centering one’s self during the holidays than watching It’s a Wonderful Life. The film, best viewed in black and white, sharpens ones focus and encourages a reevaluation of priorities.

So as Adam Silver takes the wheel from departing NBA Commissioner David Stern, he does so in a very despondent George Bailey kind of way. Perched nervously on a bridge outside the NBA headquarters, a blurry eyed Silver curses the heavens while lamenting the league for what it is now. With only three teams in the Eastern Conference mustering winning records to this point and a disappointing Christmas Day bonanza, the NBA equivalent of an NFL Thanksgiving, that saw five games finish with an average margin of victory in double figures, including one 29 point blow-out, trouble looms on the horizon.

Silver can curse SportsCenter and the way Americans lap up its spectacular dunks night after night not unlike the hard drinking husbands of school teachers who haunt Martini’s Bar. And while it still remains largely foreign to those drawing steady paychecks, he can blame a video game culture altogether familiar to owners laboring to appease this younger crowd by filling out rosters with ultra-athletic racehorses well versed in the business end of an alley-oop. All this is done while gambling these still generally underdeveloped talents will work diligently to develop their skills (see George, Paul). In the meantime the quality of play and overall skill level within the league continues to deteriorate.

Silver nervously gazes past his toes at the icy water below, knowing full well games are both sloppy and sluggish at times while consistent refereeing remains professional basketball’s white whale. He realizes even the league’s marketing has grown stale as the Christmas Day jerseys, Grinch shoes and scantily clad cheerleaders in Santa hats only made fans forget temporarily they were watching a wholly substandard product.

And then, just at the moment Silver is ready to give up and throw himself into the frigid black water, something altogether amazing and strangely predictable occurs. Appearing amidst a blizzard of fake snow, clutching a dog eared copy of the NBA Rule Book, is David Stern, his guardian angel.

Stern takes Silver on a guided tour of what the NBA once was. And unlike the somewhat laughable Clarence who was yet to earn his wings, there’s no better figure to guide a pretend tour of the league’s past than the man who oversaw its resuscitation and piloted it to its height of popularity.

Along the way, Silver discovers strong rivalries made the league. Rivalries like Detroit/Chicago, Boston/LA, the Knicks and well, OK maybe we’ll just leave the Knicks out of this since the Thunder’s road win total alone bests New York’s overall victories this season.

A wide-eyed Silver marvels at the league’s most successful days, days built on the backs of likable Superstars like Michael, Magic and Larry seasoned with the occasional rise of a spunky underdog like Reggie Miller who tried his best to stick a finger in the eye of big market viewers everywhere.

The unfortunate thing for Silver is, just when he’s seen enough to climb down off the bridge, no Hollywood ending awaits. There is no culminating scene with Silver running through the streets screaming “Merry Christmas you old referring scandal!”, instead he’s left to clean up Stern’s mess while reshaping the league on his own. This will prove a tall task, even one that can't be solved by the town of Bedford Falls bursting through his door while scrambling to unload their pockets to help save his new league.

© 2013 Eric Walker Williams

Pacers must find a way to turn down the Heat

First appeared on May 15th, 2012
in The Lebanon Reporter

OK so Sunday didn’t turn out to be the bloodbath so many had predicted. And though the Heat are one step closer to proving Jon Barry’s theory of a sure-fire Miami sweep correct, what remains to be seen is not the outcome of the series but rather how the Pacers will respond. Compounding matters for fans of the Blue and Gold, it would seem Miami took Indiana’s best punch in the first half Sunday and rallied to win with a dominating Fourth Quarter.

Of course the experts love for the Heat is nothing new. I’m sure had ESPN covered the Germans during World War II or filmed a 30 for 30 on Napoleon, they would have given the Russian’s no shot as well. The trouble of course is the magic of the upset lies in the fact nobody sees it coming. Who knew Stalingrad would become a Hornets nest capable of crippling Hitler’s Eastern advance? Or that Napoleon would taste defeat for the first time at the hands of an army perhaps made most famous by their propensity for retreat?

And really, who can fault those in the full-time-not-pretend media? The truth is the predictability of the NBA is tiresome. Of course the quintessentially obstinate American in all of us would say this is simply all the more reason for Indiana to take Miami down.

Let us not forget the Heat are the epitome of everything that is wrong with professional basketball. In a league completely driven by Superstars and propped up by those who gaze at them in captivated wonderment, Miami has three of them. Three talented men who should be filling seats on their own in smaller markets. Three men who came together and used the magic powers of artificial smoke and strobe lights to morph into the “Big Three”; a trio of superheroes joining forces to do something they clearly felt incapable of doing alone.

Meanwhile with no true Superstar, Indiana is the Yin to Miami’s Yang. They have no cult following. They are not paparazzi worthy. Heck, the only time Banker’s Life ever saw a smoke machine was when House of Hair came to town. On paper the match-up doesn’t have the magnetism of Ali-Frazier, but the fact remains there are no guarantees in life (see Lugar, Richard).

So while David Stern busies himself ensuring that those elves in his workshop busy engraving the Larry O’Brien Trophy realize the ‘b’ in LeBron is in fact capitalized, the Pacers need to set their jaw, clench their fists and get ready to take their best shot at Miami; again. Only this time hit harder, hit smarter and don’t let them get up when you have them down.

And after a 95-86 loss Sunday, Indiana remains at a crossroads. In a Pacer blue convertible the dapper Frank Vogel is slumped at the wheel while in the passenger seat alongside Larry gnaws at a thumbnail with Boomer’s overinflated head looking on from the backseat he’s sharing with that one guy with the hardhat, flip signs and pink flamingo.

They can forge ahead, take their medicine and lay down as Miami rolls on to the Eastern Conference Finals, or they can put their turn signal on and take the NBA for an unexpected ride. Tuesday night the basketball world will wait breathlessly to see if Indiana fights back, if Vogel follows his league-issued Garmin, or will we hear the presumptuous voice of David Stern choking out “RECALCULATING!!” as the Pacers try to derail the only sure thing the NBA has had since the Zenmaster traded his clipboard for a fly rod.

© 2012 Eric Walker Williams