The Pacers are in a freefall.
And it would be entirely understandable if head coach Frank Vogel sat on the sidelines in an ultra-cool top hat wailing on a Rickenbacker 12 string as 30,000 strong swayed in unison with Bics blazing, “she’s a good girl…”
But alas, there are no vampires walkin’ through the valley and it looks like the only people who are ‘gonna leave this world for a while’ are Pacer fans.
So the Pacers have a case of full moon fever, or at the very least are experiencing the largest identity crisis in the history of professional sports (all apologies to Dennis Rodman).
Either way, there’s only one word to describe the month of March for Indiana; well there are actually many words to describe it but my editor has shot most of the others down.
Indiana has been terrible.
They haven’t even been good enough to be classified as the proverbial “shell of their former self."
Up and down the roster, up and down the stat sheet and up and down the court, the Pacers have set professional basketball in the state of Indiana back 5,000 years in a mere 30 days.
And when you’ve played your way down to the bottom of the barrel you get a pat on the back and some time off.
Who knew refusing to come out of the locker room after halftime could be so taxing?
Or perhaps the most exhausting part was refusing to stand and join the team huddle during time outs or going online to complain about hard working people who’ve grown so disgusted with the spectacle that is your team right now that they chose to boo.
These would be the hard working people who took time out of their lives and spent their hard earned money, money that could have as easily been put to something more worthwhile such as feeding their children or buying their brother-in-law’s family a hotel room, to drive downtown and watch a team that is supposedly the flagship for an entire state.