That old familiar feeling for Pacer Fans

First appeared on May 26th, 2012
in The Lebanon Reporter

So the Pacers bid to upset the Miami Heat fell short. Thirty two points short in Game 5 to be exact. And as the Pacers ride off into the sunset for greener fairways and All-Inclusive resorts with white sandy beaches, the rest of us are left to ponder what could have been.

Pacer fans sit with incredulous faces, popcorn littered at their feet, luke warm beers in hand. A golden army 15,000 strong sitting in complete silence. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. When was the last time Hollywood gave us a blockbuster where the bad guys actually won?

It was almost a magical story. The Indiana legend turned Executive of the Year and his band of blue collar players, those same players who were branded misfits by the media and NBA officiating during the series, almost eliminating the league’s two sacred cows. In the end it wasn’t the MVP who stepped on the Pacers throat, rather it was Dwayne Wade who made so many impossible shots Thursday night it seemed as if he were trying to beat himself in a game of Horse.

But beyond the court the Pacers have aroused within us a spirit of bygone days. The inner Pacer fan in all of us had lay dormant for many moons. We first crawled our way into the cave in 2000 when the Pacers made the NBA Finals only to go on and lose in 6 games to the Lakers. Hibernation seemed the only tonic strong enough to prevent what we all saw coming; the collapse of a franchise that had carried us through the 90’s. And while we struggled to keep our eyes propped open through Reggie’s retirement, we succumbed to the sweet relief of slumber through the Brawl and subsequent countless nightclub melees and shootings. And we snored long and hard through many a fruitless season.

Now with a spirited performance against the Heat, the Pacers have done nothing but leave an entire fan base wanting more. Younger fans got a taste of what we all gorged ourselves upon during the days of the Davis boys and the Dunking Dutchman and yet now the lights are out in Banker’s Life and the only person moving up and down the floor is a lonely custodian sweeping away the blood, sweat and tears of another lost season.

Unanswered questions remain. What will become of Larry? Will Roy Hibbert and George Hill be back? The Pacers front office and players have both done so much work to get to this point that it would seem this group deserves to stay together at least until West’s contract expires. And one would think pushing Miami as far as Indiana did would be enough to eradicate the scourge of empty seats that has befallen Banker’s Life Fieldhouse for lo these many years.

So as the Aussies say, “Belt Up” Indiana Fans. It’s time to move on. But as you do, remember to nurture what the Pacers gave you this year. For it is a seed. A seed of hope. Make sure you care for it. Give it all the love and attention it requires for that seed holds great promise. Perhaps next year, or at some other not so distant point, that seed will bloom into the promises that went unfulfilled oh so many moons ago.

© 2012 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

Pacers are Back Baby!

First appeared on April 28th
in The Lebanon Reporter

“Hello relevance, my old friend. It’s been a long time. Seems like just yesterday Reggie was slinging 3’s from the rafters with Slick swooning ‘Boom Baby!’ into the microphone as if he were one Davis boy dunk away from keeling over for good.” If the Pacers Franchise were a comatose patient granted an unforeseen and temporary reprieve from the land of squash and turnips to utter his first words in 10 years as friends and family look on in disbelief, there is no question this would be the bleary eyed response.

The Pacers are back. And we don’t mean back from vacation or back from the dead, rather they are back in the land of relevance.
Finally the Blue and Gold are more than a bottom feeding zygote fighting for the last playoff spot in a Conference dominated by sub .500 teams. In fact they have the 3rd best record in the Eastern Conference and 5th best in the League.

And for you fans of the artificial cacophony of whining Indy Cars being piped in over the Banker’s Life loudspeaker, it would seem things are coming together at the right time. Danny Granger is no longer shooting the ball as if he were the victim of a botched Lasik procedure while David West has been playing out of his mind the last two weeks. And while Darren Collison appears to be handling his demotion like a mature veteran, fans of the Blue and Gold should also relish the fact the Pacers are healthy and, perhaps more importantly, Orlando’s Dwight Howard is not.

Saturday the Pacers will begin just their second Playoff Series since 2006 and it’s been a long road. From the depths of the Brawl Larry Bird bid Reggie farewell and basically kicked everyone else off the elevator with the exception of Jeff Foster (who took himself off earlier this year by retiring). It hasn’t exactly been a meteoric rise either. There were times when the elevator jammed (see Shawne Williams and Jammal Tinsley) and there were times when those non-part-time-pretend sports columnists wanted Larry to step off as well.

But finally it would seem the Blue and Gold are nearing the Penthouse Suite. And on their way they’ve shot past so many others including Rick Santorum, whose polite nod assured the doorman he was in fact heading down. The problem for the Pacers now is that someone has hung a tag on the door to the top floor which reads “Ocupado”. By all accounts the Miami Heat and Chicago Bulls appear to be chummy roomies in the Eastern Conference Penthouse Suite and it would seem there is no room for an upstart franchise, especially one from a small market with no Superstar or NBA Championship Pedigree.

So there’s only one way to get inside now. If Indiana wants to break through this year they’ll have to kick the door down Steven Segal style. And while it will take more than skin tight blue jeans, a ponytail and some really poorly written (and equally as poorly delivered) catch phrases to get past Orlando, Indiana seems poised to make a run at least at the Eastern Conference Finals this year.

Of course along the way Larry and Frank Vogel will likely need to stop on Commissioner Stern’s floor first to collect some hardware, but the last stop most definitely is the Penthouse. And before you fret, I’m fairly certain Paul, Danny, Roy and the rest will be happy to squeeze in to make room for you should you choose to come along for the ride.


© 2012 Eric Walker Williams

Time for America to Lead Environmental Change

First appeared on April 21st, 2012
in The Lebanon Reporter

Some would argue winning World War II was America’s high water mark. And for you kids too busy for a history lesson, it’s true your great-grandparents helped save the world sans the cape and tights. And for our efforts, or more to the point those of your great-grandparents, we became honorary Captains of the World.

And while we wore this title with great pride and paraded our values around the globe with the noblest of intentions, shoving freedom in every open craw we came across, somehow the America heading for the twenty-teens, the same place that gave the world the airplane, computers and the Internet, suddenly finds itself an oil-splotched, coal fired dinosaur, defecating mountains of garbage and farting ozone depleting gasses.

If we are still to be the world’s Go-To-Guy on everything then the greatest fight perhaps lies ahead. Once again the world needs rescuing; only this time it’s from itself. If you please, swallow the urge to belch “This sounds like an Al Gore rant”, I’m not here to browbeat you for driving to work alone while drinking your coffee in Styrofoam cups only to turn around and hop on my private jet bound for the weekend shack I bought in Cannes using the money I earned by investing in a Styrofoam coffee cup start up.

But be it an addiction to oil, phobia of renewable energies or the unfathomable amount of garbage we create daily, there are problems the world needs to address. And before Dick Cheney tries to convince you there’s a military option, it starts with us (as in me the person who wrote this and you, the person reading it right now).
From its inception America has been a leader, and it’s this punch first hope for the best style that makes us the beautiful tragedy we are. Today it’s time for us to lead the world in a new direction however. One that will bring us a longer life and our children a healthier planet.

To date recycling is the easiest method we have for saving the world and yet, just like soccer and the Metric System, Americans are yet to fully embrace it. Jennifer Lawrence, Executive Director of the Boone County Solid Waste Management District, says inconvenience is the number one reason people give for not recycling.“(Boone County offers) alternatives such as curbside pick-up, the Lebanon Street Department, (and) County recycling drop locations,” Lawrence explains.

Many of you already recycle to which the Earth, wheezing for oxygen and fighting a bad case of garbage-induced indigestion, says thank you. Jennifer points out that those of you who do recycle have already helped create new materials from your old garbage. “The list of items that can be produced directly from recycled materials is endless,” Lawrence points out. Everything from Picnic Tables and Park Benches to Rubber Playground Mulch, Bicycle Racks, Clothes, Stuffed Animals, Pens, and Pencils can all be made from recycled materials.

Lawrence advises batteries can be tricky. “Rechargeable batteries and cell phones are probably the least recycled,” She explains, “Alkaline household batteries are not recyclable nor hazardous.” The BCSWMD also wants people to know they have a local office in Lebanon where residents can either leave items or find help determining the best destination for taking them.
Still, with so many alternatives, far too much goes unrecycled.

Packaging is a notorious culprit. And while some Americans have done it, working around packaging is not a viable option in many cases. Nobody is asking for you to move up into the mountains, put out a self-sustaining garden, grow a beard and build a bi-level out of rocks and moss; rather the idea is to simply take a second look at what the family puts in the garbage bin.

The website “how to make a difference now” reminds us there are many ways we can reduce packaging. The 2 easiest methods being to take our own reusable bags to the grocery while also buying items in bulk whenever we can.
For some it’s about a lifestyle change. But not a stop cutting your hair and pay $50,000 for a 3 cylinder car that runs on a mix of switchgrass, sunflower seeds and used Q-Tips kind of change. Rather it’s simply a second look at what gets purchased and what gets tossed away.

Perhaps it has another use besides becoming archaeological fodder for some team of scientists 2,000 years from now who are left only to ponder why individual packs of Capri Sun were necessary if people drank them in their homes anyway.
The time has come for America to take the lead in building a greener world. But for those of us worried about getting Johnny to soccer practice on time or making sure the local utilities don’t shut the lights off at home anytime soon, developing new alternatives to fossil fuels and reducing carbon ozone emissions may be lofty goals.

But to take a second look at what we purchase and what we throw away isn’t asking all that much; and what better time to start than on Earth Day? And if you’re still unconvinced, or want the complete rundown of what is and is not recyclable or where to take them, give Jennifer a call at BCSWMD; she is nice and they can be reached 8-4 Monday through Friday at 483-0687.

© 2012 Eric Walker Williams

Despite record, Pacers' attendance woes continue

First appeared on April 12th, 2012
in The Lebanon Reporter

In my hometown the corner barber shop was the place to go for the low down. To find out what the weather would be like that week or how much Artie Johnson paid for that new truck with the fancy running boards and tinted rain guards. It was also the place the old hayseeds gathered on Saturday mornings to ruminate the fallout of Friday night’s high school game. Old men in overalls who chewed longleaf tobacco and cursed the new varsity coach, openly lamenting the death of the underhanded free throw.

Most know Indiana for two things, the deep fried Twinkie and a long love affair with basketball. I first learned how much basketball meant to me from hearing those hayseeds, their passion as strong as their gnarled hands.

So you take a team with the 3rd best record in the NBA’s Eastern Conference and one with a budding young star grouped with a collection of no-nonsense, hardnosed players and you’d expect to find them near the top in league attendance. Especially if you were told that same team with the high flying wing and the bruising power forward played its home games in Indiana, the self-proclaimed capital of Basketball-land.

Currently however the Indiana Pacers are edging out the New Jersey nets for 29th place in attendance (convenient time to remind you there are only 30 teams in the NBA). And when you factor in the fact the Jersey mafia has more than likely killed off another 7 season ticket holders since I pounded this out, the Nets are technically drawing more people to games than we are.

So what is to explain this plague of empty seats that has fallen upon our Pacers? I, like fans of the Cleveland Cavaliers and ESPN analysts explaining why the Heat have yet to win a Title, blame LeBron. Unfortunately the NBA has become a cult of personality and Indiana, like Brother Mitt, simply has none.

When one considers every other Top Flight Playoff Team there’s no shortage of stars. Durant, Howard, Bryant, Nowitzki, the list reads like a Who’s Who of people the average basketball player wishes they were, or at the very least could be for a day. OK, so maybe a month. A month of 4 Star hotels, pregame massages, paychecks that read like a lottery windfall and an endless line of wide eyed autograph seekers you have to muster the energy just to grumble over. Just a month of that and you are happy to go back to accounting. Back to trying to determine why the guy in the cubicle next to you, the one who loves Public Radio and drives a car nobody can hear coming, always smells like cucumbers.

The Pacers could have put all their money in one hat and thrown it at a big name free agent. Maybe even Dwight Howard. Yes perhaps Superman himself would be willing to come here; if only it were written in his contract that the Pacers be willing to fire their coach anytime Howard found himself struck with the notion of course.

And if it’s not a “cult of personality” issue, then it surely is a bad case of lockout fatigue. No matter the real direction fingers need be pointed in that whole ugly lockout mess, at the end of the day you’re smart enough to realize it was still someone with more money than you would see in five lifetimes asking for even more money.

It’s a sad story indeed. And one that would surely have the old men in the barber shop spitting on the floor.


© 2012 Eric Walker Williams

R-E-G-G-I-E wasn't always popular

First appeared on April 5th, 2012
in The Lebanon Reporter

Donnie Walsh is a well dressed man. And whether he chooses his shirt and tie combos in the morning or some fashionista recently fired by the E! Network because numerous plastic surgeries have her face resembling a traditional Gabonese Fang mask does it for him remains a mystery. But in the summer of 1987 Donnie made a choice that was as public as the library or a Facebook rant against your boss.

The spring of ‘87 saw Steve Alford lead the Indiana Hoosiers to the National Championship. I know it to be true because I watched it sitting in the living room with my Dad sharing a bowl of popcorn and a coke (or an eighth of his coke that is; which was customary per our arrangement as father and son) and also because there is a giant red banner in Assembly Hall (which most Indiana fans generally are not slow to point out) which stands in remembrance of that monumental moment.

My Father said Alford would be a saint for leading Indiana to the Promised Land and, after he’d explained what a saint was, I fully agreed despite our not being Catholic. Alford was a dashing young man with perfect hair who had proposed to his wife by hanging the net during a private shoot around; she the beautiful girlfriend who hung around the gym to climb the ladder and pull the net down anytime her boyfriend wrapped it and was surely surprised the day she reached the top of the ladder and found an engagement ring box stuck on the back of the rim. Storybook indeed.

So it looked to be a match made in heaven. The Pacers were a professional franchise that was an ABA Title Machine turned Floundering NBA Failure. In the summer of 1987 they were desperately in need of direction. A hero; a face. And for the average Hoosier fan moonlighting as a casual Pacer fan, what better face than pretty boy Steve’s?

So it was the sharp dressed Donnie Walsh went to the 1987 Draft with Hoosiers one and all fully expecting to hear Alford’s name called as the 11th pick. But upon hearing the loudspeaker boom out “Reggie Miller” fans responded with a hailstorm of boos and cat-calls. Yes, even from the start Reggie was polarizing.

The first time I saw Reggie Miller in a Pacer uniform he was bald, looked like an untwisted pretzel and appeared to have the quickness of a newborn dairy calf. I didn’t see the player who would become the Pacers All Time Leading Scorer and the second best Three Point Shooter in League History; probably one strong indicator of why my front office days have been so slow to develop.
But from the day Pacer fans first booed the 6’7 wing out of UCLA until the day he played his last game in that same uniform 18 years later, all he did was prove people wrong. Despite a highly unorthodox release, Miller became one of the greatest sharpshooters in NBA history. He climbed many mountains including the aforementioned reservations of Pacer fans as well as Spike Lee, while leaving others unconquered (Michael Jordan and an NBA Title).

And if Manning brought a passion for professional football to Indiana then Miller was Manning before Manning was Manning. He built the following the Pacers enjoyed at their height and along the way, be it 8 points in 8 seconds or “Ding Dong the Witch is Dead”, Reggie carved out a lasting place in Hoosier Hearts big enough for both himself and the Blue and Gold as well.

© 2012 Eric Walker Williams

A Match Made Somewhere other than Heaven

First appeared on March 27th, 2012
in The Lebanon Reporter

Throughout history there have walked the earth that very few men who’ve changed the world. A number so select one may count them upon a single hand; Hammurabi, Guttenberg, Henry Ford, Steve Jobs, Mr. Speckowski (6th grade Science at Lincoln Elementary).

But alas, if we were capable of springing a sixth digit like children born within the Chernobyl exclusion zone, then one man would make the list. One who lingers a Super Bowl win away from finding his face chiseled upon Mount Rushmore. One born destined to become the first man to spend U.S. currency possessing his own image. A trailblazer spreading his message of faith with a rock jaw and harder head. Of course we’re speaking of one Timothy Richard Tebow.

The problem here is Jets coach Rex Ryan thought we were talking about him. And now a star- crossed trade has brought the NFL’s two biggest caricatures together. Ryan is the blustery head coach who loves guarantees and a good continental breakfast. And Tebow, the quarterback who’s used his superstar status to become a spokesman for sandal wearing carpenters everywhere.

Both are exhausting yet refreshing. Frustrating yet somehow strangely inspiring. One simply cannot look away when either is on TV. Ryan the “King of Blusterstan” and Tebow a Kardashian in shoulder pads. Like moths to a flame or hot dog carts to an Overeaters Anonymous convention-we’re suckered in every time.

So the Jets can’t win a Super Bowl and the front office decides the best way to steal headlines from their roommate who could (the New York Giants) is to bring Ryan and Tebow together; thus adding a fourth ring to their already world famous circus. If Donald Trump has taught us anything, other than you too can become a bizillionaire by simply making ridiculous statements, it’s that there’s only room for 1 dominating personality in the board room. Now the Jets have two.

The impact each has had upon the world is inarguable. The Global Language Monitor recently recognized “Tebowing” as a word while Rex Ryan has a half tribal art, half sea monster tattoo on his calf. But to believe the coexistence of these two is the recipe the Jets need to win a Super Bowl is to believe socialized medicine and cars that don’t need gasoline will solve all of America’s problems.

While Tebow loves quoting passages from the Bible and pausing to thank a higher power, Ryan is more about ripping large chunks of raw flesh from your posterior region while quoting lines from “The Idiot’s Guide to Talking like a Trucker”.

Tebow’s a superhero whose Justice League of America card was earned by persevering despite draft experts arguing the NFL wouldn’t have his awkward delivery and upright, run the ball down your throat style. Yet lost in the chatter over his unorthodox passes and propensity for taking linebackers head on is the fact that, unlike Plastic Man or the Wonder Twins, Tebow is apparently immune to arrogance. The guy’s everything that’s right with sports and Americans love him for flying in the face of conventional wisdom. For this he’s become the stuff of myth.

And so now this Sasquatch in cleats meets a modern day John Wayne armed with clipboard and Burger King headset. A vampire who feeds on arrogance, Ryan learned the ropes from his legendary father (see the man whose defense MADE Mike Ditka) and he makes no apologies.

Both men are occupiers in a league that breeds conformity. And while the result may not be a Super Bowl it will certainly be worth more than the price of admission.

© 2012 Eric Walker Williams