Pacers remain so close....

First appeared on June 5th, 2013
in The Lebanon Reporter

Back in the day the man perm was an unstoppable force of nature. And, with all apologies to the late Rick James, when it comes to man perms few could rival John Oates of Hall and Oates fame. After Monday night’s debacle in Miami, fans of the Blue and Gold were left lamenting the 32 points King James dropped on Indiana or the fact the league’s MVP absolutely shut down Paul George in the biggest game of his life; but my mind was on Hall and Oates.

How fitting would it have been for one of the greatest duos of the 80’s to be waiting in the Pacers tunnel as they sulked from the floor? Perched on their stools, rocking a single amp, John Oates still looking like 1983 with Daryl Hall’s golden pipes bellowing out “So close, yet so far away”.

That’s what the Pacers were, so close, yet the Heat’s dominating performance in Game 7 made it clear Indiana remains so far away. As great as the Pacers were, the Heat reminded them what a true Champion is. Turnovers erased any chance Indiana had at playing for an NBA Championship, thus deep sixing what Marv Albert had already dubbed the “greatest upset in NBA Playoff History”; clearly Marv hasn’t gotten over Reggie Miller.

Forgetting Marv Albert’s misguided prophecy, and unflattering hat helmet, for a moment, up until Monday night the Indiana Pacers were on a run that seemed destined for the Finals. It could be said everything they touched turned “blue and gold”. The 1980’s brand of smashmouth basketball the Pacers were playing looked so effective that somewhere Chuck Daly was smiling behind a Poker table while those with the most titles in front offices around the league were silently questioning their movement away from a dominating front line.

The usually outlandish and cranky Sir Charles was actually spot-on when comparing Roy Hibbert and David West’s dominating play to Russell and Chamberlain. Mix in strong all around play from the emerging superstar Paul George, sharp shooting (at times) from George Hill and the surprising arrival of Lance Stephenson, and the Pacers quickly became the second worst nightmare Erik Spoelstra could have; the first of course being Pat Riley coming out of the stands to ask “have you seen my clipboard?”

The outcome of Monday’s game was far more than “LeBron being LeBron” or the Big Three finally engaging themselves at the same time. It was more than the “will of a champion” or the Heat having stars and the Pacers having players who may or may not be stars depending on who you’re talking to, the day of the week and the price of oil in China. So close, yet so far away.

It came down plain and simply to turnovers. The Pacers were careless with the ball which would be a creative strategy to employ for any coach who actually wants to win. 21 turnovers in an elimination game can be a sign of many things. The short list includes: inexperience, youth, poor eyesight, teammates in camouflage uniforms and really, really dumb decisions. Those who watched Indiana Monday night know the answer is “D All of the Above”.

There’s a restless look in your eyes tonight (Paul George), there’s a secret hurt in my heart (strange little hardhat wearing man who carries a pink flamingo around to every Pacer game), and the dream that pulls us together (winning a championship), is the dream that pulls us apart (this last part is up to Vogel and the Pacers front office to prevent). So close, yet so far away.

© 2013 Eric Walker Williams

Hicks versus Knicks Redux

First appeared on May 16th, 2013
in The Lebanon Reporter

Somewhere between a flopping Carmelo Anthony and a well disguised Tyson Chandler leg whip I was reminded of something Saturday night. Something I’d boxed up long ago. A once deep seated philosophy, forged from titanic showdowns replete with historic moments. I’m talking of course about my hatred for the New York Knicks.

This wasn’t a “how long is this guy going to let cars pile up behind him in the left lane?” kind of hatred either. That’s a mere annoyance. This was the kind of festering disgust that made you flirt with the idea of adopting a homeless dog just to name him Spike, strap a goofy hat to his head before shaving all his fur off and writing “Go Pacers” across him in Sharpie. In its heyday it was “Hicks versus Knicks”, Spike Lee’s mouth and Charles Oakley’s square jaw. It was John Starks’ epic struggle with humility and Patrick Ewing blowing a point blank dunk that became the finger roll heard ‘round the world.

In the middle of it all was Reggie Miller. His contributions are now the stuff of folklore. Eight points in six seconds, jawing with Spike while backpedaling from another three pointer and connecting on the only dunk in traffic I ever saw the guy attempt (and one that nearly caused the premature collapse of Market Square Arena).

Unfortunately today’s version just isn’t the same. These aren’t your Grandfather’s Pacers. Which is good, because if they were my five year old would have A LOT of explaining to do. Few would argue this series lacks the black eyes and showmanship of those mid nineties showdowns. Those were great Pacer teams. A prideful collection of savvy veterans, unselfish, hungry and all firmly in the middle of their strides.

This current group of Pacers seem to still be feeling their way. They’re youth is perhaps one logical explanation for the 30-2 run New York pasted them with last week. Fast forward to Saturday night and we saw a more focused group. One that teased us with a glimpse of what Roy Hibbert may be capable of becoming. In a brilliant performance Hibbert played a brand of tough and hungry basketball, the kind that may as well have been ripped from the heart of those old Pacers-Knicks series.

But as reassuring as Hibbert’s performance was, my recollections of series past went beyond a hatred for the Knicks. I was reminded of old Thirty-One. The cold blooded killer who always wanted the ball, always hungry to make a play. In this series, the standard Pacer response to any Knick run is to appear disoriented. David West has been the closest thing to a closer for Indiana, but it has to be Paul George moving forward. His 14 point, 8 rebound, 8 assist and 5 steal performance was inarguably solid, but George needs to be more. He needs to be a closer.

In the waning moments Saturday, the Pacers third year All Star watched the clock dwindling with the ball in his hands and instead of getting to the rim and making a play, he gave it up (before any help had arrived mind you) so the little used reserve Sam Young could take a 19 foot jumper instead. How Un-Reggie-like indeed.

Let me stop you before you label this a “Why can’t you be more like Reggie” rant. Consider it rather one part-time pretend sports columnist’s opinion that Indiana won’t make real progress until they find a bonafide closer. It took a closer to get to the Finals in 2000 and, as much as I hate the Knicks, it will take a closer to get past them in this series too.

© 2013 Eric Walker Williams

A Warning to Well Intentioned Pacer Fans

First appeared on April 24th, 2013
in The Lebanon Reporter

Standing 6 feet 9 inches tall and weighing 225 pounds, Josh Smith is a big man. As someone who boasts career highs of 38 points, 22 rebounds, 11 assists and 10 blocks, Josh Smith can be scary good. And you probably don’t need me telling you anyone with the nickname “J Smoove” is clearly capable of world domination in anything, anytime, anywhere.

The AP’s recount of his performance in the opening round of the Playoffs so accurately summarized the life-giving bolt of invigoration Smith’s game can be, “He scored 15 points and grabbed 8 rebounds in Atlanta’s 107-90 defeat”. Talk about world domination indeed.

So it begs the question, after Smith was so lackluster in Sunday’s loss, why would anyone in the non-Atlanta media be quick to call him out? Mike Wells of the Indy Star said “The more jumpers Smith takes…the less likely the Hawks will win” and Pacer Blogger Conrad Brunner bluntly declared “Josh Smith is the worst good player I’ve ever seen”.
If Smith wants to go through the motions defensively and fire up long jump shots early in the shot clock, who are we to tell him no?

What do we care? We’re not Hawks fans or “Smoovers and Shakers” (Affectionate nickname given to card carrying members of the “J-Smoove” fan club; only a guess here). What do these people want? Are they hoping Smith drops 40 on the Blue and Gold? Do they want the Pacers’ first round match up to be more than a tune up? Clearly they’ve never dealt with anyone younger than ten years old.
The Hawks are a shell of a playoff team and Smith is the only person capable of making them as un-shell like as possible.

As Pacer fans, rather than tearing Smith down, now is the time we should be building him up. Telling him he’s the best 30% Three Point shooter we’ve ever seen and asking him to sign the ball we caught after another one of his errant passes has rocketed over a teammates hands before landing in our laps.

We should let him know the fact he led the Hawks in turnovers for a second straight season simply means his teammates need their vision checked or may have to actually click on a link and read something when he’s told them to Google “How to catch a basketball” for the twentieth time. He needs to hear that his 50% shooting from the foul line this season is more than enough justification to stand 30 feet from the basket and hoist jumpers until his shoulder goes numb or the rest of his teammates have lost interest, walked off the court and tweeted #neverplayingbasketballagain from the locker room.

In short Smith is a sleeping giant, let him rest. He’s the only person capable of making this series longer than it needs to be. If Pacers fans are lucky, Smith will continue pretending to play hard and Hawks fans will continue to pretend to care when their team loses. He’s a Five Tool player, the only problem for Atlanta right now is that Smith’s five tools are scoring, rebounding, defending, ball handling and only performing on the third Tuesday of every other month.

Perhaps most amazing of all is the fact Smith is finishing a contract year. But there’s no time for second guessing. Let’s all quietly bear witness now, for the day is coming when we’ll sit our children down to tell them how we watched J Smoove doin’ work. Of course that will require a complete transformation of the word ‘work’, but you’ll figure something out.

© 2013 Eric Walker Williams

Michigan's season was bigger than one loss

First appeared on April 11th, 2013
in The Lebanon Reporter

When Jordan Morgan’s shot rolled off the rim at the buzzer giving Tom Crean and the Indiana Hoosiers their first outright Big Ten title in 20 years, all hope seemed lost for the Wolverines. In that moment Beilein’s crew went from talented upstarts, far too young to realize brazen doesn’t wear well in the Midwest, to a group of Thriller-like zombies shocked into a state of disbelief.

They were the closest thing Ann Arbor has seen to the Fab Five since those fashionistas first set foot on campus 20 years ago. Good news for Michigan fans is, while this current batch may have the baggy shorts and above the rim game, they lack the ugly baggage and propensity for calling time outs when they have none. But that moment, on the last day of the season in their own building, should have been the crushing blow in what was already becoming a frustrating end to a promise filled season. A Tyson-style haymaker delivered from Cody Zeller and his national darling Indiana Hoosiers.

On the surface it appeared a turning point for Indiana who, after making NCAA history the week before in becoming the first team to cut the nets down following a loss, finally claimed their trophy. Tom Crean and future All-American Victor Oladipo shared a moment in what they surely believed was a stepping stone to hanging another banner as the Wolverines stumbled off the court like stunned cattle.

Someone more famous than me once quipped “these are the times that try men’s souls” and while it might be difficult to prove, I’m fairly certain they were talking about the 2013 Michigan Wolverines. For as they retired to their locker room to sweep what was left of their hopes and dreams into a Maize and Blue Rubbermaid dustpan every media member in the nation, part-time pretend or not, believed Blue had flat lined then and there. But from the ashes left smoldering on the Crisler Center court came a resurgent group of Wolverines who were, in the infamous words of Frank Costanza, “like a Phoenix, rising from Arizona”.

Michigan’s impressive surge to the Final Four wouldn’t have been possible without two things; the surprising play of Superfrosh Mitch McGary and a near forty foot jumper from Trey Burke that eventually buried then flavor of the month Kansas. For those wanting hard hitting analysis, look no further than an enormous charge from Jordan Morgan, role players like Spike Albrecht and Caris LeVert quietly doing their jobs and Head Coach John Beilein’s innate ability for developing system-specific skill sets in his players.

But in prevailing 82-76 Monday night, Louisville proved to have more experience and were quite simply tougher. There’s something to be said for toughness in this modern world of empty threats and helicopter parents. It takes real guts to reach down inside and find the strength necessary to fight harder at that precise moment when so many before have quit. To fight that which has been conditioned in you.

So we’re left to hope history will remember Michigan not as a team that wasn’t good enough on one night, rather as an exciting team that showed guts in overcoming a disastrous finish to their season. And while another installment of March Madness has came and went bringing an end to the greatest three weeks in sports, we move forward knowing every day puts us one day closer to its return. CBS will put Greg Gumbel back on the shelf for another year, but soon enough the Road to the Final Four will point the way west to Dallas.


© 2013 Eric Walker Williams

Proof in the Pudding Sweet for Big Ten

First appeared on March 27th, 2013
in The Lebanon Reporter

When I was 14 I saw Rex Chapman in the Indiana-Kentucky All Star Game. After it was over I asked Kentucky’s Mr. Basketball for his autograph and he punched my dad in the face and burnt down the orphanage for handicapped Somali children my parents ran out of their home. OK-so maybe that didn’t happen exactly as I recall, but for a myriad of reasons I did learn to loathe Chapman while he was at Kentucky.

Who knows where my Rex-o-phobia began, perhaps it’s simply the hatred for Kentucky that, like a love for anything breaded and deep fried, comes to Hoosiers naturally. More likely it’s, despite our similar age and love of basketball, Chapman was a high school All Star, Division one stand out and 10 plus year veteran of the NBA and I clearly was not.

But recently Rex erased any doubt of my overall disdain for him when the former Kentucky Wildcat said the Big Ten was “overrated” and the Big East was “the best conference in America”. This affront led me to settle things in true Hoosier fashion; one on one with Rex Chapman.

Arranging a game with Chapman wouldn’t be easy considering getting him back in Indiana would probably be the equivalent of helping Robert E. Lee book a vacation to Gettysburg or asking Magic Johnson to come back to late night TV. Ours would be a virtual tussle.
Chapman made millions in the NBA and has a job as an analyst on the Tru TV Halftime show. In between diaper changes and my many other duties as a patriotic American, I hammer out stories of debatable journalistic merit that the local paper uses as filler when things are so slow they’re unable to locate other, more relevant news. Advantage Chapman.

Chapman was a two time participant in the NBA Dunk Contest and I…well advantage Rex. Once sporting a proud hair helmet that was half mullet, half jerry-curl and entirely backwoods fabulous, Chapman has since moved on to the ever popular shaved head look so many aging sports stars subscribe to. Begrudgingly, advantage Chapman.

As for the picks, the part time pretend journalist in me wanted more information but after googling “Rex Chapman’s bracket” all that came up was some obscure fishing rod contraption Chapman may or may not have endorsed when money got tight after retiring from the NBA. I’d have to stick to his man-crush on the Big East.

After the first three rounds of the Men’s Tournament the Big East Conference has gone 6-5 while the Big Ten has posted a sparkling 10-3 record. Advantage me. Of these six wins, it should be noted two came from Marquette who could have lost twice if not for a boneheaded cross court pass and botched out of bounds play by Butler.

The Sweet 16 includes four Big Ten teams and three from the soon to be imploded Big East including the aforementioned Marquette and what’s left of their nine lives. Point me. According to CBS.com the Big Ten’s conference RPI is second only to the Mountain West; and while I’m no mathematician and haven’t studied the full list, I’m fairly certain this places the Big Ten ahead of the Big East. Advantage clearly me.

So we stand eye to eye, score knotted at 3. Thursday’s showdown between Indiana and Syracuse looms featuring two legendary programs. And, because we’re both too out of shape to continue, Chapman offers the couch on his front porch and we agree to let it ride on Thursday’s Big Ten/Big East face off. Winner takes all, once and for all.

© 2013 Eric Walker Williams

The Worm takes a spin on the Axis of Evil

First appeared on March 6th, 2013
in The Lebanon Reporter

Most people who call this great nation home are in agreement that greasy cheeseburgers taste good, President’s Day is not a holiday that screams “Let’s go buy a car!” and there is no better example of an oxymoron than the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea.
Yet in this age where social media and popular culture are the accepted barometer for everything American perhaps it’s only fitting the Harlem Globetrotters, long time bastions of American culture and new to the scene political activists, dispatched Dennis Rodman to North Korea last week to extend an olive branch, albeit heavily tattooed and pierced, to Kim Jong Un.

It used to be the U.S. only exported cars and airplanes from factories filled with men who coached Little League and drank heavy beer and didn’t bellyache about having to work 12 hour shifts, but we’ve since moved on to Democracy and, perhaps worst of all, Dennis Rodman and Honey Boo-Boo.

Don’t get me wrong there was a time when Rodman was amazing. Hunter Orange hair and wedding dresses aside, anyone who can boast nearly 12,000 rebounds, two NBA Defensive Player of the Year Awards and five championship rings was clearly more than a million dollar sandbag holding the bench down. But like most, the Worm has struggled with the whole “riding off into the sunset” bit.

There are so many unanswered questions surrounding Rodman’s vacation in the land of the oppressed and home of the eternally intimidated. Considering Kim is an avid fan of basketball, we can assume the two spent hours dissecting the art of rebounding and flopping, as well as the most effective methods for staying out of Michael Jordan’s way on offense. But the world longs to know more. Did the two talk politics? What was Rodman’s motivation? And just how long did it take him to remove enough piercings to pass through airport security?

Of course the real problem with Rodman visiting Pyongyang isn’t necessarily that it legitimizes a rogue government, rather it’s the cartoonish perception the rest of the world will have of us. It does more damage to Americans than anyone else. I once met a man in Africa who was convinced, at one point or another, I’d been to the White House and met George W. Bush just as every other American had. It’s best we understand now the small flashes of American politics and culture that make it to the far corners of the Earth have the staying power of a “Brad and Angelina Forever” Tatoo.

Rodman’s vacation has prompted so much attention that Press Secretary Jay Carney took a clear line Monday by saying North Korea should “focus on the well-being of its own people, who have been starved, imprisoned and denied their human rights.” Of course any fears Washington has of Rodman’s visit to North Korea somehow sparking sympathetic feelings to any hard line the U.S. may need to establish later should only be justified if they’re convinced the majority of Americans look to celebrities who are no longer relevant for political advice; OK so it’s a safe assumption Washington is terrified.

Compounding matters Rodman made an uncomfortable appearance on Good Morning America where he drew a shockingly ineffective comparison between President Clinton’s infidelities and North Korean labor camps while waving his hands around like a magician and muttering “Guess What” about 350 times in a six minute interview with George Stephanopoulos.
Upon second glance perhaps North Korea and the Worm were made for each other. After all both are strange, hard to understand and it would seem Americans don’t have time for either one anyway.

© 2013 Eric Walker Williams

This Time Maybe It's Not About the Money

First appeared on February 25, 2013
in The Lebanon Reporter

A gallon of premium gasoline hit $4.00 this week. And, for those looking to diversify their chosen method of transportation, they aren’t giving hogs away either. We in the 99% realize money is tight these days and, with the ‘Roaring Twenties’ firmly in our rearview, most in the Midwest have been raised to keep an eye on the sky and a tight grip on their wallets.

So you go to the coffee shop for a bottomless cup, knowing it’s also one of the last places a free newspaper still exists, one without pay walls and pop ups. But the rack is empty so you slide to the counter, sandwiched between an insurance man on the prowl and a newly retired newspaperman. The buzzing chatter seems to intimate Al Qaeda is behind the rising price of hogs and the Indiana Pacers are fighting a rash of empty seats downtown.

The team itself is surely not to blame you theorize, after all they’ve axed ticket prices, given away everything from umbrellas to bobble head dolls, hired plate twirlers who set themselves on fire while swallowing a fistful of Asian Forest Scorpions just to entertain the folks at halftime and still, despite all this, the Fieldhouse remains half empty.

At 14 games over .500 Indiana has one of the top teams in the East, one that has already defeated the defending World Champions twice this season. One that includes a group of young men who trust each other, know no jealousies and can rely upon the services of a budding superstar poised to leave many Pacer fans wondering “Reggie who?” soon. And still it’s not been enough to get people to put down the remote, load the kids in the car and drop a hard earned Benjamin Franklin at BLF.

Considering there is no half-full optimism in the Pacers Marketing Department, they must be wondering if maybe, this time anyhow, it’s not about money. When one takes a second to look at the state of the NBA (for a second is all many can tolerate anyway) it isn’t entirely clear what one sees. Clearly it boasts the most athletic and ultra talented basketball players on Earth playing a fast paced, physical game above the rim. One might be left believing this alone would be enough to spin the turnstiles nightly but such has not been the case, at least not in Indianapolis.

Some blame the Colts, others the Hoosiers and still another lost soul makes some hair brained proclamation it’s somehow or another connected to race. Alas many have missed the most obvious of villains; apathy. Apathy, not about the Pacers themselves, but rather what the Association has become.

Apathy borne from multimillionaires complaining about having to practice and wear ties to games. Apathy that results from seeing a self-proclaimed Superman quit on his team only to fly cross-country with designs on teaming up with a Superstar. One already in possession of a reputation for taking 95% of the shots and yet we pretend to be shocked when his spoiled toddler shtick continues after discovering the aforementioned Superstar continues taking 95% of the shots.

Apathy that can only result from a man already living the dream of millions intentionally firing an air ball up in a game before storming to the locker room upon learning his coach is somehow disappointed in him. If I could hand David Stern a solution we’d all be eating bacon on our doughnuts and driving Hummers. Until then, understand apathy here means fans lack the hunger required to jump those hoops associated with attending games; and the sooner the NBA addresses this, the better.

© 2013 Eric Walker Williams