Tyrese Haliburton slangs on
We've heard nervous crowds, right? Chatting among themselves, one-in-four attending know-it-alls telling their four-person group all about the ways in which the visitors could win the game, break the hearts, ruin the night.
Every group has that guy, Oklahoma City's Game 1 crowd would seem to be full of them on Thursday night but nah. Their team held what felt like a 12-point advantage over Indiana for about 47 minutes and change and lost, yet fans didn't worry. The home crowd felt the proximity of the Pacers and never fretted, more curious than anything, like the first fella killed in a monster movie.
Every other team that comes here falls behind by 20 points. Who are these guys, who won't go down by 20 points?
The Pacers. Indestructible in belief, full of their own [bleep].
Can't blame the Thunder, the fans, anyone involved for expecting the outrageous to take hold once again. But Indiana is breathing its own recirculated air. The Pacers may not have entered the postseason thinking itself an inerrable force in the clutch, but Rick Carlisle's team has no choice but to submit after Game 1.
How does this take hold? Logo threes? Pell-mell drives for and-1 scoops? Maybe, if the space calls for it. That's just the stuff we see. What the Pacers feel is the absence of time.
Time is all the opponent thinks about. The Pacers thought about time, noted the time, moved on. Does time slow for the Pacers, do they use the glint of Arcturus to bend points in the puzzle of the ages? No, though they are assuredly more relaxed in the same seconds we sweat through.
The Pacers just don't freak out. The 1993 Chicago Bulls, firing the ball twice before finding John Paxson, look like a sunburned mess compared to the 2025 Pacers. Indiana knows how much room is left on the clock to do what needs doing, footwork correct, space for an extra dribble.
The Thunder didn't spit up on the bib in Game 1, Oklahoma City simply isn't as mindful within space as the Pacers. Cason Wallace and Alex Caruso required wrapping Tyrese Haliburton in an OKCircle in Game 1's final seconds, instead they gave Tyrese a 50-50 shot.
Problem is, that ain't a 50-50 shot for Haliburton, not with the game on the line. Haliburton will follow through and extend and make sure whatever he tosses, spins.
He will go ugly, late. A pull-up two to Tyrese's right is not his thing, but it was what was required inside that distance. The shot – this make, he's visualized – is for the ages, and Haliburton would like to do something cooler with the viral clip, but
*points to watch*
His voice betrayed itself while telling the truth in the press conference after Game 1. He was cool, otherwise, sunglasses with logos on the sides and the front, endorsed shoes next to his microphone, his voice low and direct, unbroken until it was time to talk about Indiana turning the ball over 19 times in the first half, but only giving up nine points.
"That's not that bad," he cracked, like a kid trying to explain the low, low cost of amusement park tickets to parents.
Haliburton readily copped to jitters, even in his toughest voice, acknowledging specifics behind his short-armed passes and aimless, momentum-postponing, dribbles.
It was his second or third interview and he was rolling, admitting his club follows the narrative arc of social media more than most NBA teams, let alone more than most people, something that was no doubt broiling under his burner after only pushing four field goal attempts in the first half.
Like the rest of the social media, Haliburton and his Pacers were gobsmacked at the prevailing 12-point lead at halftime, figuring the points should be twice as profound. Aligning the two thoughts, he and his Pacers attacked the deficit as if it were larger than life.
"We talked about if we could win one quarter by six and one quarter by seven, then we'll be in a great spot," Haliburton relayed, sounding more like an NFL quarterback than an NBA point guard.
A 1.2-point lead in an NFL game is safer than a 12-point lead in an NBA game. NBA teams can make up a dozen points in the time it takes Kevin Harlan to thank his statistician and producer and director, but the Thunder change this math. A dozen points is impossible.
This is why the Pacers talked themselves into the idea of only heading into the fourth period down only six points. Not trying to show an international NBA Finals audience they are Oklahoma City's equal in the first two minutes of the second half. Pound the rock, save those challenges.
Tyrese Haliburton won't dribble into oblivion or launch without form, he won't have his shot blocked or routine disrupted simply because we want him to have a Steph Curry-like 22 points by halftime. What he will do is win the game, be the reason for the difference in score. He doesn't know how, yet, but he'll be around (as long as the Pacers get the rebound).
I was with family in my parents' basement when Jordan hit the game-winner in Game 1 in 1997. I was mopping the floor at a pizza place run by the deputy of a large tout service (long story) in North Carolina (short plane flight, long bus ride) when Allen Iverson stepped over Tyronn Lue.
I was in a comfortable seat on the the side of the goal Haliburton splashed his Game 1 winner through, though of course I stood up when it went in. Oklahoma City fans sat down, they never had time to be nervous.
Haliburton's ongoing postseason isn't aligned with obscure, cooler, triumphs. His story is as mainstream as the 'Point After' in Sports Illustrated.
I am aware that in Oklahoma City on Thursday night, in the visitors' sweaty, adjunct press conference area, I was in the presence of Springsteen within the week Bruce was on the cover of Time and Newsweek (but only playing songs off the first few albums). Or Tiger strutting to sign his scorecard during the Grand Slam year (and going directly home afterward).
Tyrese Haliburton isn't stepping into the moment. He's there.
GUN SLINGER
On my person are many, many notes. I am writing all of them out and into emails and they will be out as soon as I hit up the American Banjo Museum, a few blocks from the stadium.
I am kidding. I would sooner visit the this hotel's workout room than the American Banjo Museum.
This column is free, parking downtown in OKC costs as much as a full tank of gas, consider supporting my endeavor. I am driving between games and I have a pretty good feeling this one is goin' five. Consider supporting independent sportswriting!
