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The Rules of Pacers Digest

Hello everyone,

Whether your are a long standing forum member or whether you have just registered today, it's a good idea to read and review the rules below so that you have a very good idea of what to expect when you come to Pacers Digest.

A quick note to new members: Your posts will not immediately show up when you make them. An administrator has to approve at least your first post before the forum software will later upgrade your account to the status of a fully-registered member. This usually happens within a couple of hours or so after your post(s) is/are approved, so you may need to be a little patient at first.

Why do we do this? So that it's more difficult for spammers (be they human or robot) to post, and so users who are banned cannot immediately re-register and start dousing people with verbal flames.

Below are the rules of Pacers Digest. After you have read them, you will have a very good sense of where we are coming from, what we expect, what we don't want to see, and how we react to things.

Rule #1

Pacers Digest is intended to be a place to discuss basketball without having to deal with the kinds of behaviors or attitudes that distract people from sticking with the discussion of the topics at hand. These unwanted distractions can come in many forms, and admittedly it can sometimes be tricky to pin down each and every kind that can rear its ugly head, but we feel that the following examples and explanations cover at least a good portion of that ground and should at least give people a pretty good idea of the kinds of things we actively discourage:

"Anyone who __________ is a liar / a fool / an idiot / a blind homer / has their head buried in the sand / a blind hater / doesn't know basketball / doesn't watch the games"

"People with intelligence will agree with me when I say that __________"

"Only stupid people think / believe / do ___________"

"I can't wait to hear something from PosterX when he/she sees that **insert a given incident or current event that will have probably upset or disappointed PosterX here**"

"He/she is just delusional"

"This thread is stupid / worthless / embarrassing"

"I'm going to take a moment to point and / laugh at PosterX / GroupOfPeopleY who thought / believed *insert though/belief here*"

"Remember when PosterX said OldCommentY that no longer looks good? "

In general, if a comment goes from purely on topic to something 'ad hominem' (personal jabs, personal shots, attacks, flames, however you want to call it, towards a person, or a group of people, or a given city/state/country of people), those are most likely going to be found intolerable.

We also dissuade passive aggressive behavior. This can be various things, but common examples include statements that are basically meant to imply someone is either stupid or otherwise incapable of holding a rational conversation. This can include (but is not limited to) laughing at someone's conclusions rather than offering an honest rebuttal, asking people what game they were watching, or another common problem is Poster X will say "that player isn't that bad" and then Poster Y will say something akin to "LOL you think that player is good". We're not going to tolerate those kinds of comments out of respect for the community at large and for the sake of trying to just have an honest conversation.

Now, does the above cover absolutely every single kind of distraction that is unwanted? Probably not, but you should by now have a good idea of the general types of things we will be discouraging. The above examples are meant to give you a good feel for / idea of what we're looking for. If something new or different than the above happens to come along and results in the same problem (that being, any other attitude or behavior that ultimately distracts from actually just discussing the topic at hand, or that is otherwise disrespectful to other posters), we can and we will take action to curb this as well, so please don't take this to mean that if you managed to technically avoid saying something exactly like one of the above examples that you are then somehow off the hook.

That all having been said, our goal is to do so in a generally kind and respectful way, and that doesn't mean the moment we see something we don't like that somebody is going to be suspended or banned, either. It just means that at the very least we will probably say something about it, quite possibly snipping out the distracting parts of the post in question while leaving alone the parts that are actually just discussing the topics, and in the event of a repeating or excessive problem, then we will start issuing infractions to try to further discourage further repeat problems, and if it just never seems to improve, then finally suspensions or bans will come into play. We would prefer it never went that far, and most of the time for most of our posters, it won't ever have to.

A slip up every once and a while is pretty normal, but, again, when it becomes repetitive or excessive, something will be done. Something occasional is probably going to be let go (within reason), but when it starts to become habitual or otherwise a pattern, odds are very good that we will step in.

There's always a small minority that like to push people's buttons and/or test their own boundaries with regards to the administrators, and in the case of someone acting like that, please be aware that this is not a court of law, but a private website run by people who are simply trying to do the right thing as they see it. If we feel that you are a special case that needs to be dealt with in an exceptional way because your behavior isn't explicitly mirroring one of our above examples of what we generally discourage, we can and we will take atypical action to prevent this from continuing if you are not cooperative with us.

Also please be aware that you will not be given a pass simply by claiming that you were 'only joking,' because quite honestly, when someone really is just joking, for one thing most people tend to pick up on the joke, including the person or group that is the target of the joke, and for another thing, in the event where an honest joke gets taken seriously and it upsets or angers someone, the person who is truly 'only joking' will quite commonly go out of his / her way to apologize and will try to mend fences. People who are dishonest about their statements being 'jokes' do not do so, and in turn that becomes a clear sign of what is really going on. It's nothing new.

In any case, quite frankly, the overall quality and health of the entire forum's community is more important than any one troublesome user will ever be, regardless of exactly how a problem is exhibiting itself, and if it comes down to us having to make a choice between you versus the greater health and happiness of the entire community, the community of this forum will win every time.

Lastly, there are also some posters, who are generally great contributors and do not otherwise cause any problems, who sometimes feel it's their place to provoke or to otherwise 'mess with' that small minority of people described in the last paragraph, and while we possibly might understand why you might feel you WANT to do something like that, the truth is we can't actually tolerate that kind of behavior from you any more than we can tolerate the behavior from them. So if we feel that you are trying to provoke those other posters into doing or saying something that will get themselves into trouble, then we will start to view you as a problem as well, because of the same reason as before: The overall health of the forum comes first, and trying to stir the pot with someone like that doesn't help, it just makes it worse. Some will simply disagree with this philosophy, but if so, then so be it because ultimately we have to do what we think is best so long as it's up to us.

If you see a problem that we haven't addressed, the best and most appropriate course for a forum member to take here is to look over to the left of the post in question. See underneath that poster's name, avatar, and other info, down where there's a little triangle with an exclamation point (!) in it? Click that. That allows you to report the post to the admins so we can definitely notice it and give it a look to see what we feel we should do about it. Beyond that, obviously it's human nature sometimes to want to speak up to the poster in question who has bothered you, but we would ask that you try to refrain from doing so because quite often what happens is two or more posters all start going back and forth about the original offending post, and suddenly the entire thread is off topic or otherwise derailed. So while the urge to police it yourself is understandable, it's best to just report it to us and let us handle it. Thank you!

All of the above is going to be subject to a case by case basis, but generally and broadly speaking, this should give everyone a pretty good idea of how things will typically / most often be handled.

Rule #2

If the actions of an administrator inspire you to make a comment, criticism, or express a concern about it, there is a wrong place and a couple of right places to do so.

The wrong place is to do so in the original thread in which the administrator took action. For example, if a post gets an infraction, or a post gets deleted, or a comment within a larger post gets clipped out, in a thread discussing Paul George, the wrong thing to do is to distract from the discussion of Paul George by adding your off topic thoughts on what the administrator did.

The right places to do so are:

A) Start a thread about the specific incident you want to talk about on the Feedback board. This way you are able to express yourself in an area that doesn't throw another thread off topic, and this way others can add their two cents as well if they wish, and additionally if there's something that needs to be said by the administrators, that is where they will respond to it.

B) Send a private message to the administrators, and they can respond to you that way.

If this is done the wrong way, those comments will be deleted, and if it's a repeating problem then it may also receive an infraction as well.

Rule #3

If a poster is bothering you, and an administrator has not or will not deal with that poster to the extent that you would prefer, you have a powerful tool at your disposal, one that has recently been upgraded and is now better than ever: The ability to ignore a user.

When you ignore a user, you will unfortunately still see some hints of their existence (nothing we can do about that), however, it does the following key things:

A) Any post they make will be completely invisible as you scroll through a thread.

B) The new addition to this feature: If someone QUOTES a user you are ignoring, you do not have to read who it was, or what that poster said, unless you go out of your way to click on a link to find out who it is and what they said.

To utilize this feature, from any page on Pacers Digest, scroll to the top of the page, look to the top right where it says 'Settings' and click that. From the settings page, look to the left side of the page where it says 'My Settings', and look down from there until you see 'Edit Ignore List' and click that. From here, it will say 'Add a Member to Your List...' Beneath that, click in the text box to the right of 'User Name', type in or copy & paste the username of the poster you are ignoring, and once their name is in the box, look over to the far right and click the 'Okay' button. All done!

Rule #4

Regarding infractions, currently they carry a value of one point each, and that point will expire in 31 days. If at any point a poster is carrying three points at the same time, that poster will be suspended until the oldest of the three points expires.

Rule #5

When you share or paste content or articles from another website, you must include the URL/link back to where you found it, who wrote it, and what website it's from. Said content will be removed if this doesn't happen.

An example:

If I copy and paste an article from the Indianapolis Star website, I would post something like this:

http://www.linktothearticlegoeshere.com/article
Title of the Article
Author's Name
Indianapolis Star

Rule #6

We cannot tolerate illegal videos on Pacers Digest. This means do not share any links to them, do not mention any websites that host them or link to them, do not describe how to find them in any way, and do not ask about them. Posts doing anything of the sort will be removed, the offenders will be contacted privately, and if the problem becomes habitual, you will be suspended, and if it still persists, you will probably be banned.

The legal means of watching or listening to NBA games are NBA League Pass Broadband (for US, or for International; both cost money) and NBA Audio League Pass (which is free). Look for them on NBA.com.

Rule #7

Provocative statements in a signature, or as an avatar, or as the 'tagline' beneath a poster's username (where it says 'Member' or 'Administrator' by default, if it is not altered) are an unwanted distraction that will more than likely be removed on sight. There can be shades of gray to this, but in general this could be something political or religious that is likely going to provoke or upset people, or otherwise something that is mean-spirited at the expense of a poster, a group of people, or a population.

It may or may not go without saying, but this goes for threads and posts as well, particularly when it's not made on the off-topic board (Market Square).

We do make exceptions if we feel the content is both innocuous and unlikely to cause social problems on the forum (such as wishing someone a Merry Christmas or a Happy Easter), and we also also make exceptions if such topics come up with regards to a sports figure (such as the Lance Stephenson situation bringing up discussions of domestic abuse and the law, or when Jason Collins came out as gay and how that lead to some discussion about gay rights).

However, once the discussion seems to be more/mostly about the political issues instead of the sports figure or his specific situation, the thread is usually closed.

Rule #8

We prefer self-restraint and/or modesty when making jokes or off topic comments in a sports discussion thread. They can be fun, but sometimes they derail or distract from a topic, and we don't want to see that happen. If we feel it is a problem, we will either delete or move those posts from the thread.

Rule #9

Generally speaking, we try to be a "PG-13" rated board, and we don't want to see sexual content or similarly suggestive content. Vulgarity is a more muddled issue, though again we prefer things to lean more towards "PG-13" than "R". If we feel things have gone too far, we will step in.

Rule #10

We like small signatures, not big signatures. The bigger the signature, the more likely it is an annoying or distracting signature.

Rule #11

Do not advertise anything without talking about it with the administrators first. This includes advertising with your signature, with your avatar, through private messaging, and/or by making a thread or post.
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The all new 2012/13 Area 55, G2 Zone & PTO thread....

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  • #61
    Re: The all new 2012/13 Area 55, G2 Zone & PTO thread....

    Originally posted by Sandman21 View Post
    Well, The G2/Area55/A VERY SNEAKY BillS Christmas Carol video is posted....
    Yes, We're EVERYWHERE.

    BWAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
    BillS

    A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.
    Or throw in a first-round pick and flip it for a max-level point guard...

    Comment


    • #62
      Re: The all new 2012/13 Area 55, G2 Zone & PTO thread....

      Seth is so under the radar he can even be in a video and not be outed.


      Basketball isn't played with computers, spreadsheets, and simulations. ChicagoJ 4/21/13

      Comment


      • #63
        Re: The all new 2012/13 Area 55, G2 Zone & PTO thread....

        AREA 55 NEWS YOU CAN TAKE TO THE BANK!!!!!!

        Salutations 55ers!

        Today, O brothers and sisters in basketball, we return to normalcy. Christmas is over. We must put away our holiday loot, take down the tree, and focus anew our attention on our Pacers.

        And look! The 16-12 Pacers find themselves, at long last, alone atop the Central, right where we want to be, perched there a half game in front of the Bulls and the Bucks, who are in a nondescript tie for second. Our anticipated post-Xmas BLF meet-up with our bovine buddies from the Windy City was peremptorily shelved at the last minute by the NBA, ostensibly due to wintry conditions. This was undoubtedly a good thing for the Bulls, who were reeling from two consecutive losses and would have been without the services of Luol Deng. At any rate, the Pacers got an unexpected night off and will now face the Suns rested, ready, and hopefully reinvigorated. The Pacers, by the way, are going for a season-first 4 wins in a row

        To me, the Phoenix Suns cause visions of sugar plums to dance in my head. They indeed look like a belated holiday gift ripe and ready for the Pacers’ taking. Their record is 11-16 and they arrive riding a 3-game losing streak. Right now they are 12 games behind the L.A. Clippers in the Pacific, just edging out Sacramento for the uncoveted title of worst team in the West. In case you’re wondering, their road record stands at 2-11 and those wins were at Charlotte and Cleveland. In their last outing on Wednesday, the Carmelo-less Knicks edged them 99-97 at the buzzer, nullifying a fruitless 36-point solar eruption from the Suns’ Jared Dudley.

        On paper, the Suns look like a bunch of nonentities. But while lacking any real stars to speak of, they still sport a lot of scoring balance. Their biggest guns are guards Goran Dragic (14.1 ppg and 6.2 assists) and Shannon Brown (12,9 ppg). Their front line consists of forwards Jared Dudley (11.8 ppg), Luis Scola (11.7 ppg) and Marcin Gortat (11.2 ppg). Their bench features Michael Beasley (10.5), Sebastian Telfair (6.0 ppg) and a familiar face – former Pacer standout Jermaine O’Neal (7.1 ppg). They have lots of vets and lots of foreign players. Dragic, Scola, and Gortat are all Green Card holders hailing from Slovenia, Argentina, and Poland, respectively. Generally speaking, the Suns can be described as physical, experienced, and tough. They’re not very glamorous, but they can’t be taken too lightly either.

        Belated Half-Time Review of “The Russian Bar” As is my wont, while the rest of you peons are replenishing your beers at halftime, I remain glued to my seat, sober and unbiased, gazing intently below eyeing the festivities that PS&E invariably procures for our plebian amusement. For the Utah game on December 19th, we were treated to the high-flying antics of “The Russian Bar”. My review of that august spectacle follows:

        Ever wonder where the hell our halftime entertainment comes from? Well, me too. And “The Russian Bar” piqued my insatiable curiosity and meticulous researching skills. These lead me to the Wolfpack Entertainment website, which is here: http://tinyurl.com/csvowy3

        See, Wolfpack has a deal with the NBA and it also has the likes of “The Red Panda Acrobat” and “Quick Change” under contract. This happy coincidence is what gets us that oriental lady balancing plates on her seven foot unicycle and the babe that so magically changes her wardrobe at the blink of an eye. Wolfpack’s arrangement with the NBA also got us “The Russian Bar.” I’m not usually a betting man, but my guess is that some of Wolfpack’s other entertainers might be coming our way soon too. As I’ve always been partial to contortionists, I’m particularly looking forward to seeing what the likes of “Rubberboy” (The World’s Most Flexible Man according to the Guinness Book of Records!) will bring to the normally placid halftime confines of BLF.

        So what did you miss in not seeing “The Russian Bar”? Or better, what the hell is “The Russian Bar”?

        Well, it was not an assortment of flavored vodkas. Nor was it a group of Slavic lawyers. Nyet! Nyet!

        Rather, it was a troupe of three acrobats properly called The Sandou Trio a/k/a “The Russian Bar.” Their act featured two burly guys (possibly former KGB agents, I’ll call them Ivan and Yuri) who were dressed up with head kerchiefs, a bit like pirates from the Caribbean, for no apparent reason. Ivan and Yuri were charged with the manly task of toting a long flexible bar out to center court. Then, a spritely ballerina type (who looked kind of hot to me), swiftly mounted the bar. The burly KGB guys -- each holding ends of the bar – then started bouncing it up and down, thereby using it to launch the Slavic ballerina sprite upwards into space, sort of like an attractive human Sputnik. The hot babe (I’ll call her Olga) was clad in a spangly bodysuit and did most of the work in the act.

        See, “the Russian bar” on which Olga was perched served as sort of a launching pad. When the sprite gave the burly ones the nod, they would hoist the bar upwards and thereby propel Olga way up into the nether reaches of our arena. While airborne, Olga then did gymnastic front flips, back flips, and intricate twists and turns. Then, obedient to the laws of gravity, she fluttered downward invariably landing with her talented feet squarely on the Russian bar, which was kind of flexible, and bent gently under her diminutive weight. Not once did Olga land poorly or otherwise fall off the bar. This is a good thing, since there was no safety net and a misstep on her part could have been ugly.

        Actually, further research on my part has revealed that Olga’s real name was Sandy and she was from San Antonio, Texas and not Moscow, Petrograd, or Kiev. This has disappointed me a bit. I was hoping for something more Zhivago-esque.

        At any rate, you can watch them doing their thing on a tape from “America’s Got Talent” that I’m putting right here: http://tinyurl.com/d9e83aa

        I give The Russian Bar a B+. Bring on Rubberboy!

        AND NOW FOR SOME FUN FACTS ABOUT PHOENIX!

        Luis Scola, Houston Says Good Riddance! Argentine import Luis Scola has always been welcome to Area 55. Last year, you may recall, we greeted him at the free-throw line with one of our more memorable chants: “Wash Your Hair!”

        Here’s Luis and the hair that inspired the chant: http://tinyurl.com/brpvnyd

        Yes, Luis does sport a greasy mane reminiscent of the oily pampas grass of his South American homeland. He labored for 5 more or less unmemorable years in Houston, but was then waived and later acquired by Phoenix as part of the intricate maneuvering that ultimately garnered the Rockets the notoriously bearded James Harden. Luis’ lamentable locks earned him few fans in Houston. Following the trade, Rockets’ GM, Daryl Morely posted this Twitter response from a happy Houston fan:

        “WE LOYAL FANS OF THE HOUSTON ROCKETS COMMEND YOU FOR WAIVING LUIS SCOLA!!! THOUGH HE WAS/IS AN EXCELLENT PLAYER, HE PROVIDED A POOR IMAGE FOR HOUSTON. WE HOPE THAT YOUR NEXT ACQUISITION WILL BE A PLAYER OR PLAYERS WITH AN ELECTRIC RAZOR AND IS WELL-GROOMED. GOD KNOWS THEY MAKE ENOUGH MONEY TO GET A DECENT HAIRCUT!!! WISHING THE ROCKETS GREAT THINGS TO COME!”

        Ironically, in James Harden, Houston acquired a player with possibly the most fabulously insane facial hair in the NBA. I can think of few players, for example, whose whiskers have served to inspire a fruit arrangement (http://tinyurl.com/d3xcyoe), a tasty dessert (http://tinyurl.com/ckcaxwd) or the entrance to a building (http://tinyurl.com/bljtxc7).

        Here’s James in case you want a peek: http://tinyurl.com/cajdhbh

        The Most Famous Proboscis in Poland! Last March, when Steve Nash was still in Phoenix, the Suns’ Polish center, Marcin Gortat, managed to break his nose by accidentally running into teammate Steve Nash’s head. It wasn’t pretty. Marcin went down hard and then bled all over the court.

        Marcin took the injury in stride, tweeting thusly afterwards:

        “I know my modeling job is over now!!!!!! so i can focus 100% on basketball!!!!! I had that nice deal with GUCCI and now ....(((((“

        Marcin elected to have his schnoz reset in a macho way too – without anesthetic. This was a mistake, as he later admitted:

        "It was my fault," he said. "I should take an injection. It was painful. I don't want to use bad words. I had dirty pants almost."

        Ah well. Time to go to press. Let’s tune up for Phoenix and help the Pacers put the Suns into a dark eclipse.

        GO PACERS! GO AREA 55!
        Last edited by IndyHoya; 12-31-2012, 02:37 AM.

        Comment


        • #64
          Re: The all new 2012/13 Area 55, G2 Zone & PTO thread....

          Looking forward to the review of the cowboy monkeys. Personally it felt like a live infomercial...too much talk and not enough action, and at the end, I wanted to go out and buy a primate! But it's hard to bash an act where you have monkeys riding dogs!

          Comment


          • #65
            Re: The all new 2012/13 Area 55, G2 Zone & PTO thread....

            That review will be the province of Fighting Jon LaFollette. He was NOT happy with The Ghost Riders. Stay tuned!

            Comment


            • #66
              Re: The all new 2012/13 Area 55, G2 Zone & PTO thread....

              The Milwaukee Odyssey: At this point in the Newsletter I usually talk about PTO doings or slide into a few fun facts about the opposing team. However, my recent road trip to Milwaukee to see our boys handle the Bucks causes me to part from the standard format. A lot of people have been telling me they want to hear the particulars on what happened. Accordingly, here’s the poop. Read further at your peril!

              The impetus that caused 13 devoted Pacers Tailgating Organization and Area 55 members to embark on an impromptu trip to the city of Laverne and Shirley began immediately after our win over the Bobcats. At that time, Kyle “Kielbeze” Brumback (flush with a home victory and doubtlessly inspired by beer) hatched a boozy plan with El Pacero to organize a quickie caravan to Milwaukee for the Pacers’ road game with the Bucks. I learned something was afoot just before the end of the Charlotte game. After Dahntay Jones had unloaded the last of his 19 points on the Bobcats, I looked down and saw Kielbeze directing his bear-like body upwards from the lower echelons of Row 6 of Section 101 and ambling toward where I was sitting in the rarefied air of Row 9.

              I could tell that whatever he had in mind was going to be trouble. In Brumback’s case beer and thought always make for a dangerous combination.

              Anyway, Kielbeze advised we 3 Row 9ers (i.e., yours truly, Brian “Pacers4Ever” Koller, and Colin “Paint Your Face” Lott) that a trip to Wisconsin was in the works. Then, without giving any of us much time to say anything about this one way or the other, he firmly advised us that we didn’t have much say in the matter anyway and that he had simply decided that we would be going. It went something like this:

              “El Pacero will talk to Rob Laycock and nail us some tickets,” said Kielbeze. “And you, IndyHoya, will be one of the drivers!”

              Yeah, it was on pretty short notice. And true, I can’t say I was extremely enthusiastic at first. After all, Kielbeze had more to drink at the PTO than I did. However, drunk or sober, Kielbeze is a persuasive guy. You can’t work as a collection agent for Sallie Mae without picking up some people skills.

              Anyway, Kielbeze pooh-poohed all my perfectly reasonable excuses for not going – clients, work, a sense of responsibility, the wife etc. etc. After all, the Bear was farting off his own job in order to make the trip. Given that, he rightly pointed out that I’d be a total lamer if I didn’t do exactly the same thing. That almost persuaded me, but then he hit me with his most compelling argument – a succinct reminder of how Squad 6 had humiliated us in its visit to Conseco. That memory, of course, rankled. When I heard it, I decided that come hell or high water I would be driving my Toyota to Cheeseville.

              In an ensuing post-game organizational conclave held in the Anthem parking lot, Kielbeze used his skills to dragoon two additional drivers – Justin Dumbrosky and Markus Beresford. And by 9:00 A.M. the next morning fully 13 would-be Argonauts had signed on for the expedition. Who were these intrepid soldiers-of-fortune? Well, as mentioned, there was moi, Joe Murphy, the lovable IndyHoya. There was Justin “The Polish Pacer” Dombrosky, and there was Indianapolis Markus. We were designated as the flotilla’s helmsmen chiefly because we owned functioning automobiles. It certainly wasn’t because of our bubbly and effervescent personalities. Our passengers – helping out with moral support and gas money – were Dave “Day-V” Dearing, the inimitable El Pacero, Colin Lott – a 19 year old psychotic, Big John the Phony Canadian Professional Wrestler, Bryon “BPump33” Pumphrey, our 18-year old NBA savant, Brian “Pacers4Ever” Koller , Zach “Red Foster” Brown, Rob “SuperFan” Greenway, Chris “PacersChants” Goff, and, of course, the main ursine instigator, Kielbeze. Not a bad crew given the short notice. I would have preferred a topless dancer or two, but space was limited. The trip was underway.

              Accordingly, Saturday morning at noon, we rendezvoused at a northwest side location that shall continue to remain nameless. On my arrival with Koller in tow, I immediately noticed that there was this new, strange-looking dude among our number that I hadn’t really seen before. I figured he was somebody’s friend. But after I gunned my engine and set out, BPump told me the guy was none other than El Pacero – only sans mask.

              See, the prospects of four and a half hours of mask sweat caused Pacero to doff his cover. I won’t describe the visage I saw in too much detail. If you want an image of what I saw, segue to that horrible scene from The Phantom of the Opera when the hero pulls his cover off!!! Aaargh!!! The disfiguring scars! The acid burns! The horrible contorted features!!!). Well, maybe I’m exaggerating a little here for literary effect.

              Anyway, owing to his sharing us with his unmasking, all of us fellow-travelers were sworn to the highest degree of secrecy. I will therefore say little more here about what we all saw. Being fellow 55ers and buddies of Pacero, we all understood the need to preserve his well-earned aura of mystery. Accordingly, I will say nothing here to endanger his secret identity. However, the next time you order a pizza from Donato’s, scrutinize the features of your delivery guy carefully and tip him well. No, I’m not saying that El Pacero’s alter ego delivers pizzas for a living. I’m only saying that there’s a good chance that he does (*wink* *nudge* *hint*).

              I will also say little about my actual trip from Point X to Milwaukee other than this. I was at the wheel of my noble 1998 Toyota Rav4 the entire time and Brian “Pacers4Ever” Koller served as my navigator. Traveling under these circumstances greatly intensified the excitement already inherent in the adventure. I have to say that Koller did his level best to keep me on the right roads during the trip. However, assigning important map work to a person suffering from Attention Deficit Disorder like Koller proved, in hindsight, to be something of a mistake. Yup, despite a detailed Yahoo Map I had printed off beforehand, and my ruthlessly steady hand at the wheel, with Koller navigating we managed to be lost approximately 70% of the time on the way to Milwaukee. To be fair, besides his ADD, Koller had only had around 2 hours of sleep before we embarked. Also, for some reason, he had swilled down a couple of dozen bottles of “Arnold Palmer Iced Tea” (golfer Koller’s favorite brand) before setting out. Koller’s tea drinking did unfortunately foreseeable things to his young bladder. As a result, our northward progress was sluggish. It seemed like whenever we were about to make some good time, Koller would start hinting about having to whiz on my Toyota’s s front seat upholstery. I don’t know how many unplanned stops we had to make. But I think we visited every McDonald’s john extant between Lafayette and Fowler.

              Originally I was supposed to lead the assembled cars on our long odyssey, However, owing to Koller’s finicky bladder our expedition devolved quickly into a Ray Charles leading Stevie Wonder sort of thing. After the first 10 or 15 minutes of the trip, what with Koller’s navigating and urinating, we soon lost track of one another. When it was all said and done, every vehicle was pretty much forced to fend for itself.

              My trusty Rav4 did manage to make it to Milwaukee without any serious mishaps (no thanks to Koller). However, when we made our approach we all (that is, me, BPump, Colin, and Koller) somehow managed to miss Exit 73A, the designated downtown Milwaukee entry point. As a result, we got to needlessly see where the Milwaukee Brewers play their baseball, view the exit for the town’s Zoo, and scan the get-off point for the famous Potawatomi Casino (which, judging from all the signs advertising it, is the principal basis of Milwaukee’s booming economy).

              At long last, after finding ourselves in a strange place called Waukeesha (another town doubtlessly either founded or owned by Potawatomis), we all concluded that we were hopelessly lost and that we would have to do the extremely unmasculine thing of asking someone for directions. Accordingly, on Colin Lott’s particular insistence, we turned into a seedy-looking Waukeesha gas station to take stock and seek guidance.

              I am ashamed to say that I wound up having to ask an effeminate-looking guy (possibly a gay Potawatomi) that was using a squeegee to wipe muddy water stains from his car windows (a popular local pastime in Milwaukee) for directional help. Our informant pointed a limp wrist toward a nearby highway, provided additional useful information and, as a result, we managed to double back to the mysterious 73A exit that we so successfully blew by in the first place.

              Anyway, we then wound up taking a random downtown exit (it might have said Kilbourne Street, by that time I was hallucinating and can’t now be sure), passed the Marquette University campus (which took us all of about 30 seconds), found Fourth Street, and then took a decisive left. Then we had a “Eureka” moment.

              There it was! Looming up out of the snow squalls and afternoon greyness that so typifies Milwaukee in February (and most other months as well) — a big, black, ugly mother of a building that bore the fabled name:

              “Bradley Center.”

              Hallelujah! We had scaled the mountain! We had made it to Milwaukee!

              Our timing was good. We reached Brew Town just about 3 hours before tip-off time. Dombrosky and Markus had beaten me there, of course. They had already parked their vehicles in a fetid $20 lot surrounded by piles of blackened reminders of Milwaukee’s last snowstorm. After making sure of the fact that all of us had actually arrived intact and in one piece, we sucked on beer Kielbeze had thoughtfully brought along with him from Indianapolis while waiting for Pacero and Greenway to don their standard Area 55 garb. We then hiked a block or two over to our next major checkpoint – “The Old German Beer Hall” a/k/a “The Hofbrauhaus.”

              The Old German Beer Hall is located on “North Old World Third Street” (or something like that). Just an aside here, but it occurs to me now, as I write this, that practically everything is old and German in Milwaukee except possibly the Potawatomi Tribe’s spanking new Casino). Whatever, it’s just a couple of blocks from the Bradley Center. I had previously visited Milwaukee on an earlier gray February to view a Georgetown-Marquette game and had stumbled into the Beer Hall by accident. That was one of the few good things that had happened to me on that trip. Anyway, I talked it up as a potential watering hole. No one else had any alternatives in mind, so we beat a path to it in fairly good order.

              If you want to retrace our intrepid steps someday, here ya go:

              http://tinyurl.com/4cw343u

              The Old German Beer Hall proved to be a good choice. Once there, we decided to forego any further sightseeing or local Milwaukee tourist attractions. The beer (I had a frothy pitcher of “Amber”) was pretty tasty. After determining that the money we had brought with us was not counterfeit and that some of us actually did possess good credit, the bosomy young serving maids treated us pretty well. A representative portrait of the Beer Hall’s serving wenches is faithfully depicted below:

              http://tinyurl.com/4fde7pa

              Big Jon was probably the one of us most awed by the Beer Hall’s waitresses. To paraphrase his comments at the time, there is just something endearing and welcoming about seeing a waitress, thusly attired, bouncing and jiggling her way towards you, while simultaneously hoisting 4 or 5 mammoth steins of genuine German beer. It’s about the closest thing to Valhalla one can experience without actually dying first in battle.

              Anyway, after seating ourselves on the benches at the Beer Hall, most of us immediately loaded up on beer, mammoth pretzels, and wurst. We were all, of course, rigged out in our standard Area 55 Pacers gear and as we drank and caroused the locals in the place (who appeared to be of either German or Potawatomi ethnicity) were all eyeing us sort of warily.

              We did our best to cozy up to the locals — explaining the noble purpose of our mission and cheerily chanting “Roy, Roy, Roy” at appropriate times as the Hall’s German dance music was playing.

              This is where things turned a bit weird. Towards the back of the Beer Hall, close to where we were doing our drinking, some of the more manly of the locals were involved in a strange sort of game that entailed driving nails into a sawed-off tree trunk with a hammer.

              It seemed a sort of silly pastime to me, however, mindful that we were, indeed, goodwill ambassadors from far off Indy, we kept most of our commentary to ourselves so as not to be any more offensive than we already were. Indeed, when a couple of the locals challenged our manhood and invited us to a nail-hitting competition, a few of our number rose from our benches to face the opposition.

              As mentioned, this odd Milwaukee sport entailed picking up a heavy hammer (that, for some reason, was chained to the sawed-off tree trunk – possibly to prevent theft. Who the hell knows?.), and then using it to try to drive a nail into the top of the tree trunk with as few hammer-strokes as possible. Anyway, three of our baker’s dozen, uncowed and determined, faced the challenge. Their names shall be preserved in the annals of Area 55: Dombrosky, Big Jon, and Indianapolis Markus.

              Dombrosky was first, and his attempt to heft the hammer and hit the nail got things off to a controversial start. He lifted the mallet and smashed it down pretty hard but his stroke didn’t entirely hit his objective – a nail that had been lightly started in the tree trunk. Rather, Dombrosky kind of grazed the nail, causing it to fly off the trunk crazily and ping violently against the glass cover of a framed picture of one of the notable German dignitaries (maybe it was Otto von Bismark or Kaiser Wilhelm, none of us were totally sure) that adorned a nearby wall. Anyway, Dombrosky’s stroke, and all the resulting smashed glass, added a sort of Hunnic festivity to the already wild mood of the competition.

              The establishment’s owners, learning of the damage to their memorabilia took the unanticipated carnage reasonably well. I don’t think they even demanded that we pay for it. At any rate, Dombrosky, perhaps remembering the 1939 Nazi invasion of Poland, offered no apologies.

              Big Jon the Wrestler was the next PTOer to heft the heavy hammer. And he hit his nail pretty squarely, driving it about three-quarters of the way into the tree trunk at one stroke. The smarmy locals that had invited him to participate were suitably awed. Indeed, none of their strokes matched his.

              But the real hero of the day proved to be Indianapolis Markus, who somehow, some way, on his very first blow drove the nail down to its very head deeply into the cellulose bowels of the tree trunk.

              The locals who had challenged us to the competition in the first place appeared greatly chagrined. Following Markus’ Meisterstroke, we heard no more invites to test our manhood in Milwaukee nail smiting. Indeed, all remarks about us being invading “Hoosiers” petered into a hushed silence. Markus had beaten the locals at their own game! Anyway, after Markus smashed his nail all the way in in a single blow, our detractors sort of slunk away into some of the more obscure areas of the Beer Hall. We didn’t hear any more crap from them for the rest of the evening.

              The rest of us spent the remaining two hours swilling beer and ordering pretzels for no real reason other than to see our bosomy serving wenches come jiggling out to our table carrying them. After a while, a musician attired in lederhosen appeared and began playing a lot of Teutonic drinking songs. We chimed in with lusty choruses of “Hib-Hib-Hooroy” and “Sick-a-sycka, Sick-a- sycka, Roy, Roy, Roy!” (all of which sounded a lot better there at the Beer Hall while we were drinking and singing than it does now here where I put these lyrics to pen).

              Kielbeze, always a good time sort of guy, even got our musician to pull out his huge Swiss Ricola Horn. Hence we were all treated to a couple of bass toots from that thing in return for our giving the tooter money for tips. However, all fun must end.

              When game time approached, it was a lucky thing that Zach “Red Foster” Brown was there to ride herd on us. Otherwise, we would never have computed the proper amount of money that we needed to throw on the table to settle our bill. Trusting souls that we were, we basically kept throwing money down on the table until Red held up his hands and said: “Enough!” Then we then bade our dirndled serving frauleins a fond “Auf Wiedersehen” and staggered out into Old Third Street (or wherever the hell it was that we were). Only the tea-totallers among us – Koller and Lott — maintained their sobriety. The rest of us were feeling no pain.

              For his part, Lott had spent most of the two hours or so that we spent in the Old Beer Hall in the establishment’s rest room painting up his face. When finished, it was, indeed, a fearsome thing to behold.

              From the Beer Hall we then meandered our way through the Old Streets towards the arena, chanting “Pay-Pay-Pay Pacers” and slapping palms with the many friendly Milwaukeans we encountered along the way.

              Most of the locals we met either just grinned at us or responded with amiable calls of “Pacers Suck!”

              At this point in our narrative another small aside is appropriate. If any of you attempt to retrace the heroic path we blazed, and seek to visit the Bradley Center yourselves, be forewarned. Bring a strong flashlight and an ample stock of batteries. It’s darker than ****** in there.

              When we groped our way into the Center, someone immediately thrust a box into my hands containing a goofy looking bobble-head designed in the likeness of Milwaukee’s former Hall of Famer and demigod, Kareem Abdul Jabbar. Somehow or other Koller got his mitts on two or three of these suckers. When I asked him his intentions, he muttered something about knowing where he could unload them in the near future for $35 apiece. On hearing that, I grasped my own Jabbar a tad more firmly.

              We then advanced, Argonauts together, into the darkish, cavernous interior of the Bradley Center. Fortified with beer, none of us trembled. “Bring it on!” I thought. Whatever awaited – Götterdammerung, the taunts of hostile Milwaukeans, or an encounter with their antlered mascot, “Bango the Deer” – all of us felt ready.

              The entryway to the Bradley Center had a carpet (I think it was black. Damned near everything in the Bradley Center is black) and stepping on it gave us momentary pause. Being used to bright and cheery Conseco, entering Bradley was quite a contrast. The entryway looked a lot more like an antiquated Holiday Inn lobby than a basketball arena. It was Day-V, I think it was who mused: “Where are the bellhops, the sign-in Desk, and the directions to the businessmen’s sauna?”

              As we penetrated even further into the Bradley Center’s murkiness, our eyes were drawn to a smidgeon of dim light thrown outwards from some of the Center’s kiosks. Straining our eyes, numbers with arrows indicating directions to seating gradually came into focus. We eyeballed our tickets, looked again into the ebony murk, and realized that our seats were not together. Rather, we were an expedition divided, with our seating located in various and sundry sections of the arena. On closer examination we learned that some of us were seated in various parts of an area called “205.” The rest of us were placed on the opposite side of the Center in a region known as “216.”

              Owing to the fact that the expedition to Wisconsin was on such short notice, the 205 and 216 tix Rob Laycock had scrounged up for us were about the best he could do. It meant, however, that we were being scattered and divided. We decided to see if there was some way we could manage to sit together – the numbers on our tickets notwithstanding.

              We opted first to peruse the assigned seating in 216. The plan was to reconnoiter, and then take stock. Maybe a friendly usher could be persuaded to let us all sit somewhere together in the arena if we promised to be well-behaved. We learned quickly, however, that friendly ushers in the Bradley Center are about as rare and hard to find as a rose growing in a Wisconsin February.

              When we got to 216 and stuck our noses in its entryway the National Anthem was being played. As we stood to attention, I for one, felt reassured hearing the notes of the Star Spangled Banner. I guess I didn’t know what to expect. Milwaukee’s a pretty German town. If I had heard “Deutschland, Deutschland Ãœber Alles” being played, it wouldn’t have surprised me one bit.

              After the Anthem, we all squeezed into some empty seats in 216. Locals gawked, not really knowing what to make of us. Mothers hugged their infants closer to their bosoms. Fathers and sons, initially stunned by our invasion, began to taunt and jeer. We loved it. I began to understand the rush that Big Jon must feel as a professional wrestling villain. There’s definitely something oddly pleasurable and stimulating about being despised by everyone around you.

              Pacero and Greenway, of course, were both in their typical Area 55 finery. We all had Hibbert shirts and Pacers gear on. The locals were suitably impressed. Seeing the enemy like that up close can be a little staggering for anyone on first view. It was then, while the locals gaped and clucked at us, that we encountered the first of our troubles with the Bradley Center’s elite corps of ushers.

              Given the fact that there were no locals sitting within the rows of seating in 216 that we occupied, and with the game about to get underway, we figured no one would mind our bunching up together in unticketed seating. If a ticketed seat owner actually showed up, obviously we’d have given them their seat and moved elsewhere. We figured that this arrangement would be okay with the BC ushers. We figured wrong.

              Almost immediately after all of us sat down in 216, two uniformed ushers came up to us. One of them, a guy with a goatee, pointed at Greenway, Chants, and Pacero and started yelling to a compatriot that they weren’t sitting in properly ticketed seats. The compatriot, a similarly uniformed black guy, then told us that the three so indicated would have to move. He kept repeating that we would all have to sit in the seats that were tied to our tickets. It was a mantra we’d come to hear a lot more as the night wore on.

              After trying to look dumb (which wasn’t hard for any of us) and pretending that there must have been some kind of seating mistake, the three offenders eventually got up to go. Kielbeze and I (who weren’t dressed as gaudily as Pacero and Greenway) didn’t have the right tickets for our 216 seating either, but, for some reason, the ushers didn’t seem to have any problems with our staying there. We were grinning a bit at that much of a coup when, suddenly, Chris Denari came bouncing up to us out of the Bradley Center’s shadows.

              Denari started merrily shaking our hands and holding out the camera on his cell phone towards us so as to take our photos.

              We obligingly crowded together for pictures and chanted a few loud “Hib Hib Hooroys!” for Denari’s viewing pleasure. Denari seemed genuinely pleased to see us. (It occurs to me now that he was probably happy just to see anything given the all-pervasive blackness that is the Bradley Center).

              After Denari’s welcome, some of the locals sitting in adjoining seats must have figured that we were celebrities or that something special was going on. I say this because two or three of them started jumping out of their seats, ambling over to us, pulling out their cell phones, and asking us to repeat our cheering so that they capture digitalized versions of our act too. Pacero and Greenway were the principal attractions for the locals, but they seemed to regard all of us as a sort of a welcome novelty put there for their general amusement. “Poor fools,” I thought. “We are Pacers fans, and we have come to bury you!”

              Anyway, we chanted, huddled together, and mugged for the locals until they seemed to have had enough of us. Then, as the photo-loving locals abated, our usher – the same black guy that had told Goff, Greenway, and Pacero that they would have to move – actually pulled out his own cell phone and began asking us to huddle together for a personal photo too. Thinking that maybe he had warmed up to us and our natural Indiana charm, we compliantly posed, let loose with a few more partisan Pacer chants, and let Mr. Usher snap photo after photo of us.

              When Mr. Usher finally finished capturing us all in pixels and bytes, he then put his cell phone back into his pocket and, as if nothing previously had happened, again started demanding that those of us not holding the proper tickets for 216 get our butts out.

              By this time, our former protector, Denari, had left and Mr. Usher, all smiles when Denari had been around, was now becoming nastier and nastier with us, continuing to insist that those of us that didn’t have 216 tickets leave.

              El Pacero cogently pointed out to Mr. Usher the incongruity between the friendliness he had shown us just minutes before when Denari was talking to us and his present hostility. But incongruity didn’t bother Mr. Usher at all.

              I tried talking to him too, pointing out that when Squad 6 had visited Conseco, they had been treated kindly. Indeed, in their visit to Indiana, Squad 6 had been allotted a bloc of over 40+ tickets – with all Squad 6 members being permitted to sit together. I told Mr. Usher that we were only asking to be shown similar courtesy. Unfortunately I didn’t get anywhere with him either. Reciprocity wasn’t in Mr. Usher’s playbook.

              Accordingly, rather than provoke any further trouble, those of us without 216 tickets decided to hike over to the other side of the arena and move into our correct seats somewhere in 205.

              Chants, Greenway, and I traveled together to 205. Unfortunately this safari was only the start of a number of nomadic sequences that lasted for most of the first and second quarters of the game.

              After roving (or rather groping – the Bradley Center is as dark as a witch’s heart) our way through the Bradley Center and ultimately getting to its other side –where 205 was located, the three of us then took our assigned seating under the watchful eye of a new unsmiling BC usher.

              After staking out our territory, we politely told the locals sitting in the seats adjoining ours that it was an old Area 55 custom to stand up and cheer throughout the game and that we did not wish to disturb them any more than necessary. We therefore told those immediately behind us that, if they wished, we would happily switch our seats in front of them so that their view of the game would not be inordinately disturbed by our standing. A guy and his date, whose view we would otherwise have blocked, amiably took us up on this offer and we exchanged our seats with theirs.

              Some of the locals ensconced in seating proximate to ours seemed to be generally amused by our chanting. Others, however, didn’t seem to like it at all. One guy across an aisle from me seemed to be an avid collector of filthy hand gestures. I say this because he seemed eager to show me his entire repetoire. I have seen nothing similar other than perhaps once, when, on a visit to Rome, I chanced witnessing two Italian cab drivers gesticulating angrily after their hacks had collided with one another on a street near the Coliseum.

              After settling into our seats in 205 for around 5 minutes or so, who should appear but Bango the Deer, the Bucks’ pathetic excuse for a mascot!

              Yup, Bango seemed to be wandering aimlessly around in the section above ours. Goff, Greenway and I greeted him with a few “Smear the Deer” and “Roadkill” chants. Bango seemed surprised and a bit taken aback at our presence. Our chanting actually had even a few of the locals chuckling. After finally figuring out that we were hostiles, Bango then tried to slide down a railing to get a closer look at us. I respectfully cautioned Bango to be careful about sliding down railed banisters, reminding him of his unfortunate All Star Game accident where he had clumsily managed to fall through a basketball rim, strain his groin muscles and tear an ACL in his knee in the process. Bango seemed irritated by my well-intentioned reminder. He stared at me (the deer-in-the headlights metaphor comes to mind) while I was talking to him as if trying to figure out what he could do to me in revenge. Goff and I “ROADKILLED” him some more and then he left.

              Around this time, Kielbeze ambled over to our seats and instructed us to come with him. We figured he had finally found us some collective seating and we gladly left 205 after first taking leave of all the wonderful Milwaukee friends we had made there.

              Out in the dark passageway leading from 205 to the circulation area of the arena, Kielbeze was standing, chatting with a guy in Bucks gear that told us he was a Squad 6 member. When we asked them, he and his similarly-attired girl friend also claimed to be buddies of Chuckles Love, our Bucks Pacers Digest acquaintance. a man whom we had come to know after Squad 6’s visit to Conseco. When we explained to the Squad 6 guy that we had been unable to find a way to sit together, the guy apologized for the lack of hospitality and told us to come with him, promising that he would use his pull as a Squad 6 member to find us some otherwise vacant seating in the Squad 6 Area. We thanked him for his courtesy and obligingly followed him over to Squad 6’s area. Most of us clung to one another’s sleeves as we followed. By using this buddy system, none of us got lost in the Bradley Center blackness. Navigating in the Bradley Center is a lot like being in a darkened movie theater without those little lights they have on the aisle seats.

              Anyway, on arrival in Squad 6, our pathfinder promptly stuck us in seats located in various parts of the Squad 6 Area. We weren’t together, as he had promised. Nevertheless, we made the best of things and tried to get situated. It was right at this point, thinking that sitting in Squad 6 wasn’t much better than sitting in 216 or 205, that I realized I had left my valuable Kareem Abdul Jabbar bobble-head under my last seat back in 205.

              “Damn!” I thought. “I could have had Koller sell the sucker and split the take, thus netting me a cool $17.” Unfortunately, this realization was only the first of several misfortunes that befell us in the Squad 6 seating area.

              On parking in the empty seating indicated by our benefactor, Greenway, Chants, and I by then were basically so tired from walking around the arena that we decided to hold off on our chanting for a spell and just try to watch the game. By this time, it was late in the first quarter and the score was still pretty close.

              Unfortunately, we didn’t even have time to do a “Let’s Go Pacers” before another uniformed BC usher was up on us demanding to know if we had proper tickets. Taking him for a stupid lackey, I got all lawyerly with him (being a lawyer, it was easy). I told Mr. Lackey that we had been escorted to our seating with the blessing, and at the invitation, of Squad 6. I said it firmly. I could tell he was a moron because he then seemed to repeat what I said a couple of times. “They told you it was OK?” “Yes sir, they did. It’s perfectly OK for us to sit here.” “You’re sure it’s OK? ”Yes sir, it’s absolutely OK.” Chastened, he left us, muttering only “OK, I guess it’ll be all right then.” I again smiled firmly and courteously and our friend retreated off into more of the Bradley blackness. He eventually totally disappeared into the noir. All seemed well.

              But no.

              Approximately three minutes after my chat with Lackey #1, a new uniformed Bradley Center lackey, Lackey #2 — a tall gangly sort reminiscent of an elongated Barney Fife, only with a more officious manner – came up to us, demanding to see our tickets.

              I tried the same, “Squad 6 said it was OK” argument on Lackey #2, but this time it was to no avail. So, one by one, like a herd of exiled cattle, the 13 of us were ousted from the proximity of Squad 6 and again ordered to return to our properly ticketed seating. A few if the Squad 6ers hooted at us, but we left chanting our stuff.

              Squad 6, by the way, for all the people in it, wasn’t very impressive. True, they were all attired in red and white shirts and looked nice visually. But they sure weren’t very loud. I think the way their team was playing may have deflated them. Most of the members seemed to be just sitting around watching the Bucks fail. It reminded me a little of our Lakers home game back in the now happily remote, O’Brien era at Conseco. We were later told that some of the older Squad 6ers had actually resigned, owing to “political” conflicts with some of Squad 6′s newer members. Whatever the case, their product now did not look all that good.

              After our banishment from Squad 6, one of us got the bright idea of giving up our expensive lower-level seating and trying our luck in the cheaper upper reaches of the Center. This upper area, known as “400”, is a strange locale, and accessible only to mountain goats with infra-red vision. There were lots of vacant seats up there in NoseBleedLand and moving there en masse seemed a realistic possibility. We elected to go for it. Sure we’d be far away from things. But what the hell, at least we’d be together.

              Propelled by the thought that we gypsies might now actually find a home in 400 (where the only occupants seemed to be similarly ostracized ne’er-do-wells) we started our upward climb of bank after bank of ill-lit stairs. As I climbed I speculated on what sort of beings I would find seated up there. I figured that they were all probably felons, occupying the dark upper reaches of the BC as a well-deserved punishment for some kind of heinous and unnamed crime. No one, I thought, not even the uniformed BC usher/lackeys, would care if we parked our rumps in 400, where our only company would be llamas, mountain goats, and failed Alpinists. Section 400 was clearly not designed for pleasant basketball viewing. It was more like a Dostoevskian penal colony, a kind of sporting purgatory. Surely the BC coats would allow us to sit up there!
              But again, I was wrong.

              After groping our way through even more squid-ink blackness and two or three more flights of unlit stairs, we eventually emerged at a dimly lit entryway manned by another Bradley Center ushering goon. This one too told us that we couldn’t sit, even in 400, if we weren’t ticketed to be there.

              Resignedly, we again retraced our steps, heading back from whence we came …stumbling and trudging, morosely, down, down, and down again, until once more we found ourselves in the lower reaches of the BC.

              Here I noticed that there was perhaps more oxygen to breathe, but only a tad bit more light.

              To me, it was beginning to seem so weird and Fellini-esque — the goofy ushers, the coal black passageways, the strange Bucks fans with their assorted “you sucks” and “kiss my asses.” My BC experience was like being a character in Sartre’s play, “No Exit” — where the characters wander about forever, chatting aimlessly about nothing, and essentially, doing, seeing, and accomplishing nothing. It was a basketball version of Waiting for Godot.

              By the time we got back down to the Level 200 (home of good old Sections 205 and 216), the game’s second quarter was well underway. The three of us – Greenway, Goff, and myself, elected to give up on sitting together with the other 10 of our number. Yes, the Bradley Center had defeated us. Its evil ushers had won. Resigned to our fates, we slogged back to our real seats in 205.

              When I reverted to my former seat in 205, I groped around under it, trying to find my lost Jabbar bobble-head. Of course, by now it was gone.

              Damn!

              It was an interesting period piece, that lost bobble-head. As depicted, Jabbar had sideburns that our old coach, Jim O’Brien, would certainly have envied. I felt keen pangs of loss.

              After taking my seat in 205, again friendless and now bobble-headless, I took the opportunity to wave a cheery hello to my old friend, the guy I had met there before with the repertoire of filthy Italian hand-gestures. In response, he stood up and amiably grasped his groin. It must have had some sort of local meaning, but I didn’t bother to ask for an explanation. Instead, I simply parked my rump again in my assigned seating, determined to at last savor more of that wholesome, family-oriented, NBA basketball experience that NBA Commish David Stern touts so frequently.

              But suddenly my viewing bliss was interrupted by a new appearance from Bango the Deer!

              In this second chance encounter, Goff, Greenway, and I pointed out to Bango that our home mascot, Boomer the Pacer Panther, for all his miscues, had never managed to fall downwards through a basketball rim and injure his groin. Bango ignored this observation and started spraying us with a can of “silly string” – a weapon that spewed gooey strands of some kind of silly-putty like stuff all over us. Bango’s antics greatly amused the benighted Teutons surrounding us. Cheap thrills for the masses, I suppose.

              I have to admit that Bango got Goff, Greenway and me pretty good with his gooey strands. However his general aim was surprisingly bad and he managed to gunk up not only us, but also the hair and sweater of a foxy-looking blond that was sitting immediately in front of us.

              Finally, his can empty, Bango left, probably to visit a salt lick or something. When he was gone, Goff and I spent the next 5 minutes or so removing the gooey strands from our clothing. I politely pointed out to the blond (who really was pretty hot) where the remnants were that were still stuck in her hair. She was not amused at the damage done to her coiffure. Then, it was half-time.

              By pre-arrangement, Goff, Greenway and I then started trudging back to the other side of the arena to rendezvous with the guys that were situated in 216. Once more we plunged into the dank labyrinthine blackness of the passageways of the Bradley Center. As we trekked the outer hallways, from inside the arena’s floor we heard the sound of locals cheering, still celebrating the triumph of the Packers from Superbowl Sunday. There was so much Teutonic cheering and snorting to be heard that it caused me to wonder how Koller, a diehard Bears fan, must have been taking this. For my own part, I began developing an incipient dislike for Green Bay that had not been there before.

              Feeling once again like Ferdinand Magellan and his lonely crew, Chants, Greenway, and I began our circumnavigation of the Bradley Center from 205 to 216. This entailed yet another trek around to the other side of the arena. As we walked, Chants started doing what he does best – chanting. Plainly Goff had never read Dale Carnegie’s book “How to Win Friends and Influence People.” As he chanted, I discovered more and more people, like my friend in 205, that were familiar with filthy Italian hand gestures.

              Chants and I were about half-way to 216 when we ran into a strange female usherette that stopped us and asked if we were satisfied with our seats now. I was about to unload on her but noticed that she was actually being serious. In talking further to her, we learned that the guys we were looking for in 216 had been routed by her to the Bradley Center’s Ticketing Czar. Apparently, after doing the proper obeisances and kissing the hem of his ermine robe, the Czar had allowed them, in an act of heartfelt generosity, to move to the 400 Upper Level. Yes, it seemed that we actually had been permitted to sit together after all and at long last – albeit with the bats, goats and Sherpas --in the lonely and isolated upper reaches of the Bradley Center.

              Getting to the 400 Level again meant another spate of blind groping and stair climbing. However, Goff, Greenway, and I did finally get to a portion of the upper deck where, to our surprise, we discovered that around 8 or 9 of our retinue had actually been seated. We joined the soiree.

              It was a strange, desolate area where we were finally perched. We were located immediately behind the Bucks’ 2nd Half basket. Still, if you strained your eyes, you could see the Pacer bench silhouetted in the faint overhead lights from the court. It was here – at long last together — that we definitively parked our fannies and watched the entire second half of the game.

              Our usherette in this area, for some reason, was actually friendly. Plainly she had not received the general Bradley message to treat us like dirt. In chatting with her, she told us that so few people normally sat in her section that she always felt glad when someone actually came up there to see her. She told us, “I like it. It makes the time go faster when I feel like I have something to do. Nobody ever comes up here. Sit wherever you want.”

              As mentioned, we pitched our tents and proceeded to finally watch the game. Squad 6 was in view, but really didn’t resonate. We couldn’t hear them at all.

              And in the 4th Quarter, when the Bucks went 6 minutes without scoring and the Pacers built their decisive14 point lead, Squad 6 was particularly quiescent. It was then that we really intensified our chanting. We must have resonated because people below started turning their heads to curse us.

              The locals in the BC, by this time, were so depressed with the course of the game that there was a lot of thankful silence in the arena. Hence we were probably more audible than would otherwise have been the case. To our surprise, as we looked down while doing our chanting, we could see that some of the Pacers down below were actually hearing us. It was an amazing thing. Brandon Rush and Paul George were nudging one another and pointing up at us. Then our hero, Roy, looked up at us and waved.

              It’s a strange thing to say, but Roy’s wave really made our whole ordeal worth it to us.

              With 3 minutes or so to go, the Milwaukeeites started giving up. They began filing out of the Bradley Center dejectedly, like stockbrokers who have just seen the DOW drop around 200 points.

              I started yelling: “Hey! Where are you going? Hey, there’s still time! Hey! Your team’s still in this! You’re only down 14! Don’t leave now!”

              Then it was over. We started plummeting downward, down again along more long twisting flights of dark stairs – I felt again like a coal miner coming up from the ground and heading for home at the end of a long day. I began to feel a strange sort of brotherhood with all those Chilean guys that had been trapped so long in their mine. The Bradley Center experience is a lot like that.

              As we were leaving our seats in 400, a small balding guy and his date (who looked a lot like him) told us:

              “Why don’t you guys grow up?”

              I was tempted to show him a few of the filthy Italian hand-gestures I had assimilated from my friend down in 205 but, remembering our representative capacity, I resisted the temptation. Instead, I simply said, “Hey, come visit us in Indy! We’re going to the Playoffs!”

              Our trip back to Indy was a long, generally uneventful 4 ½ hour drive. But it was fun. We were all half dead. But our boys had won. Area 55’s honor had been avenged from the Squad 6 visit. We had done about all 13 Pacers fans could do.

              On the way home, Roy tweeted us:

              “Big ups to Area55 members for coming to a road game. It’s messed up they moved y’all.”

              Go Pacers! Go Area 55!
              Joe Murphy (IndyHoya)
              Last edited by IndyHoya; 12-31-2012, 12:27 PM.

              Comment


              • #67
                Re: The all new 2012/13 Area 55, G2 Zone & PTO thread....

                Inspired by IndyHoya's description of his impromtu road trip, I would again like to appeal to both the Area 55 and G2 Zone leadership so that we may haul our collective superfan butts to an away game in even greater numbers! Greater participation, of course, requires planning well in advance, and would preferably involve a weekend or holiday game.

                As I mentioned in a previous post, there are a few road games that take place on weekends or holidays where the driving distance is manageable. The noon Memphis game on Jan. 21 (MLK day) and the 7 PM Detroit game on Saturday, Feb. 23 appear to be the best candidates (5 hour drives). However, our own Director of Security for the Pacers suggested that of the 2 games I proposed, the Detroit game is probably the one to go to, as we may actually be able to get good seats there.

                Let's start talking this up so that we can get a decent number of road-trippers!
                Last edited by joeyd; 12-31-2012, 02:08 AM.

                Comment


                • #68
                  Re: The all new 2012/13 Area 55, G2 Zone & PTO thread....

                  AREA 55 NEWS YOU CAN TAKE TO THE BANK!!!!

                  Salutations, 55ers!

                  This afternoon at 3:00 P.M. the Pacers will try to shrug off the stigma of their loss two days ago at Atlanta and go for a year-ending win against the interloping Memphis Grizzlies. In our last match up with our ursine foes, which came during the preseason, we edged the Grizz at home 83-80. It was a tight game, with Rudy Gay missing a 3 at the buzzer that would have sent the game into overtime.

                  That game was a grind-it-out affair. And that’s not too surprising because, when you look at them, the Grizzlies are almost our statistical clones. They have a lot of size underneath in Marc Gasol and Zack Randolph, a lanky and smoothly high scoring forward in Rudy Gay, and two quality guards in Tony Allen and Mike Conley, Jr. Randolph and Conley have Indiana roots and, undoubtedly, will be trying to wow some of their ticket gifted homeboys that will be coming to BLF to see them play. Beating Memphis won’t be easy.

                  For one thing, the Pacers are a little banged up. Lance Stephenson (left groin sprain and a possible concussion) and George Hill (right thigh contusion) will probably play but won’t be 100%. Roy Hibbert continues to labor with a right hand/wrist malady that makes shooting with it extremely difficult. Sam Young is recovering from the flu. Danny Granger is still out with his knee injury (although, happily, he is now reportedly taking jumpers in practice).

                  At 19-8, the Grizzlies are currently 2nd in the Southwest. They play great D, leading the NBA in the fewest points allowed per game (90.1), just a tad in front of the Pacers (90.5). Like us, they also struggle to score at times, averaging 95.1 ppg to our 92.0. They steal it a lot, averaging over 9 per game. They like to bang too, averaging 43.7 points in the paint to our 39.0. They rebound it well too – 29.6 defensive boards per game to our 33.3. They come to Indy on the heels of an 81-77 home win against Denver. Worse, they’ve beaten us the last 5 times we’ve played them in the regular season.

                  My prediction? The Grizzlies will fall.

                  The Pacers had a tough loss in Atlanta. Their defense wasn’t up to its typical par and the Hawks burned us with good ball movement and with lights out shooting from mid-range, stinging us repeatedly with pick and rolls. The Pacers looked a little rusty. Maybe that Chicago postponement took some of our edge off. Hard to say.

                  Anyway, the Star’s Pacers sports newsie, Mike Wells, responded to our Atlanta loss by dialing in some blather about the Pacers being a mediocre squad that can’t beat class competition. Wells also repeated one of his favorite memes when we lose – basically, that it’s all Roy’s Hibbert’s fault and that Roy doesn’t merit his big salary. Wells’ postgame article, however, omitted mention of some of the other things that went wrong for us against Atlanta- an inopportune technical foul from George Hill, a blown 3 on 1 fast break opportunity that ended with Tyler Hansbrough knocking Lance Stephenson flat and sending him to the locker room, and a coaching decision to bench Roy that allowed the Hawks’ speedy guard, Jeff Teague, to pump in 10 points, mostly in the form of layups, in the last 4 crucial minutes of the game and end any hope the Pacers had for a comeback. If Wells was really worth all that money the Star pays him, maybe he might have reported a little on that too.

                  Road losses are admittedly tough. And Atlanta has always more or less had our number. But there is cause for hope. I think we’ll win against Memphis because the Pacers are usually better at home than on foreign shores. They also have a way of rising to the occasion after losses like the one in Atlanta. I kind of like our chances this New Year’s Eve, Wells’ negativity and all the contrary statistical imperatives notwithstanding.

                  And as for you, Roy, watch some film, play your game, and stand tall against Gasol and Randolph. And feel appreciated. Conley’s a Teague copy and we saw last night what a rapid guard can do to us when you aren’t in there. And keep your head up. Those points will start coming for you.

                  Get Well Jason Mills! I regret to report that Area 55 rookie mainstay, Jason Mills, was hospitalized after the Phoenix game – a victim of a hit-and-run SUV driver. Jason’s reportedly gonna be OK, but he’s pretty banged up.

                  The story on this is here: http://tinyurl.com/bedhald

                  Per his Area 55 cohort and friend, Jamie Freeman, Jason has a fractured hand, knee and skull, He’s in good spirits, though, considering. He tweeted this last night:

                  “Roy came to see me at the hospital. Love that dude and all my friends. Thanks to everyone for the love.” http://instagr.am/p/T4NCXIELfs/

                  This pics a little better: http://instagram.com/p/T5CRx-o23Y/

                  For the record, Jason’s at Wishard Memorial Hospital in Indianapolis. You can follow his feeble tweets under his Twitter handle “Gingerdomis”

                  Get well quick, buddy! And all the best from Area 55!

                  PTO I wanted to pass on the following invite to Area 55 and all the PTO regulars from our buddy Peck, at Pacers Digest:

                  “There is the P.T.O. Pacers Tailgating Organization which I know has a good pre game showing. I would like to invite everyone to join us later in the night for the P.T.T.S. Pacers Trash Talking Society. We meet immediately after every game outside section one right near the green trash can (hence the name Trash Talking). We’ve been doing this for a few years and we have our regulars but I wanted to let everyone know that you are welcome to come join in or just stop by and say hi.


                  AREA 55 Ticket Exchange Our deal with Roy, in him giving us tix, is to show up for games, stand while play is underway, be in Pacers gear, and chant ourselves hoarse. The aim is to gin up the noise level in BLF and create a hometown atmosphere that makes it really tough on our opponents to play here. That means that we, as recipients of Roy’s largesse, need to really try to make it to the games. Remember, our presence at games is important. We know the drill. When we don’t show up, newbies occupy our seats and the Area 55 noise level suffers.

                  However, sometimes things happen and, for some reason or other, an Area 55 member can’t make it to a game. What do we do then? The answer is that you give your ticket to another 55er who will put it to use. This isn’t the optimal solution, but hopefully that receiving member will bring someone equally enthusiastic to replace you for the evening.

                  Loyal Area 55er, Yaniv Shmukler (who knows all kinds of dirty words in Russian) recently suggested our opening up a Facebook page so that members looking to score an extra ticket for a family member or a friend can connect with another of our members who is unable to attend. The aim is to facilitate an orderly exchange.

                  Understand, however, that this is NOT a place for buying and selling tix!

                  Thus, if you, as an Area 55 member, can’t go to a particular game for some reason, the idea is to have you tell other Area 55ers that this is the case so that you can give (not sell) another member your ticket. The member wanting a ticket for a friend or relative can thus use yours. That receiving person should see to it that the person getting your ticket comes to the game, dressed in Pacers gear, prepared to stand up and chant and otherwise participate in everything we normally do. That person is subject to our rules and code of conduct, just like everyone else in 101. It’s on you to see that this happens.

                  Accordingly, I have opened a primitive Facebook page titled “AREA 55 Ticket Exchange” where 55ers can post away concerning ticketing needs and availability. Don’t email me anymore asking if I know of any available tickets. Just go to the following Facebook page and make your needs and situations known there:

                  http://www.facebook.com/Area55TicketExchange?fref=ts

                  But a word of warning! If I hear of anyone abusing this; learn that Area 55 tix are being bought or sold on the site; or find out that the tix are going to lamers that are just going to sit on their hands and not participate in our thing, the site comes down.

                  This brings up another matter. We have lots of buy-ins in 101. Some of these people are great. They didn’t get selected by Roy, but they paid hard bucks because they still wanted to be a part of the zaniness of Area 55. But unfortunately a few of them are totally non-participatory -- sitting the entire game, doing no chanting, and generally taking the attitude that their ticket purchase allows them to behave just as they like and without regard to Area 55’s rules and purpose. All Area 55 members should try to get these reticent types, particularly those in the upper reaches of 101, involved in our noise. If they are sitting, tell them politely to stand up. If they are silent, urge them to chant. If necessary, nicely explain to them what we are all about. Remember 50% of 101 are buy-ins. If too many sit on their hands and keep mum, Area 55 looks awfully bad.

                  The Annual Area 55 / G2 Zone Road Trek My good bud, former Area 55er and present G2 Zoner, Joey Dynlacht (well, he’s married to a G2 Zoner, at any rate) sent me this:

                  “Joe, it might be prudent to start looking at dates if there is to be an Area55/G2 Zone road trip this season. I took the liberty of looking at the schedule. There are a few road games that take place on weekends or holidays where the driving distance is manageable. To me, the noon Memphis game on Jan. 21 (MLK day) and the 7 PM Detroit game on Saturday, Feb. 23 look like possibilities. I think we would be looking at 5 hour drives similar to the Bucks road trip last year. Of course, if Pacero reported being treated like a gentleman while at the last Chicago road game (or if he can give us the name of a good security team to accompany us), then I suppose the March 23 game in Chicago is also a possibility. For those of us with families and weird occupational schedules, the sooner we plan, the better!”

                  Okay, I agree! Let’s plan! Memphis sounds more attractive to me than the Motor City. Chicago sounds interesting too. So let’s hear from you. Send me your druthers. If there’s no consensus, I will pick a destination by executive order. Then I’ll check with Rob Laycock and see if we can scare up a block of tickets.

                  By the way, the annual road trip is always fun. I chronicled the epic journey we made to Milwaukee in Season I below. It’s kind of a long narrative, but hell, what else do you have to do?

                  http://tinyurl.com/bayzoq9

                  Fighting John LaFollette’s Take on the Cowboy Monkeys from Hell! "You got this one, LaFollette," President Joe said in reference to Friday's halftime show at Bankers Life. "I hear it's monkeys riding dogs."

                  I went for it! In fact, I was entranced! How bizarre! How titillating! How humorous!. How imaginative!. Such an unthinkable and fascinating trio of words!

                  Monkeys. Riding. Dogs.

                  But in the end, how disappointing!

                  What promised to be one of the more memorable and fascinating halftime shows of this long season proved to be nothing more than the very definition of an earth-shattering let down.

                  When Tim Lepard, a 44-year-old ex-rodeo entertainer who goes by the nickname "Wild Thang," introduced his duo of canine-riding primates -- dubbed "The Ghost Riders" -- to a soundtrack featuring a fanfare of triumphant trumpets, no less, those of us who remained seated in the arena were initially wowed. There they were! Tiny capuchin monkeys wearing Pacers gear and sporting little bitty cowboy hats actually mounted on saddled border collies! We held our breath in keen anticipation, waiting for the tricks, the stunts and the big payoff that we all knew was sure to come.

                  Instead, what we got was a long, overly drawn out, and thoroughly lame-o motivational speech from Lepard (which was largely inaudible, or rather, made indecipherable due in large part to his slow and irritatingly affected cowboy drawl). And when all was said and done, neither his dogs, nor their monkey jockeys, really did very much either. Basically, the monkeys just sat there on their saddles and aimlessly sported around on their collies for a while, mostly looking petrified, frozen and victimized. As a fellow primate, I felt for them.

                  Then came what I guess was the grand finale -- one of Lepard’s canines lifted a furry leg and pissed on the Pacers’ half-court logo (Perhaps he was a Suns fan?). At any rate, by the time “The Ghost Riders” finally made their way to the exits (and the crack BLF maintenance team had finished mopping up their mid-court residue), many of us that had endured it all sat together, looking at one another in perplexed silence sharing a "WTF?" moment. Others (including myself) were more vocal, letting loose with the disapproving boos and hisses that the whole truly awful performance actually merited.

                  Seriously? That was it? Was this entertainment? No flips? No skips? No Frisbee catching? Not even a "sit" or a "speak"? Mostly, it was a couple of scared monkeys atop some insipid dogs galloping around the arena with their cowboy/conman owner mumbling to us inaudibly, in a manner reminiscent of Boomhower from "King of the Hill”:

                  "Dag gum man, I tell you what man, that there ol' halftime show man, it straight up sucked worse than Tony Romo man, I tell you what."

                  The excruciating eight half time minutes of “The Ghost Riders” were so devoid of anything captivating, flashy, or even remotely interesting, that this confirmed non-smoker almost thought about picking up the cigarette habit, if for no other reason than to have an excuse to miss out on one of the most mind-bogglingly empty-headed half time events ever to grace Bankers Life Fieldhouse.

                  AND NOW SOME FUN FACTS ABOUT MEMPHIS!!!

                  A Very Good Read on Zach Randolph Marion’s own Zach Randolph is a controversial guy. Some love him; some hate him. But here is a very good article I found on what makes him tick. We forget sometimes that NBA ball players are human beings and not simply fodder for the all-knowing pundits gracing us with their learned opinions on ESPN Sports Center. Take a look! It's really a good read.

                  http://tinyurl.com/brbm6hf

                  Some General Stuff to Know About Memphis! This is important stuff that any real fan needs to know about Memphis:

                  1. How Best to Get Out! Memphis is the home of the first Greyhound and Continental Trailways bus lines! So, if push comes to shove, you can always take a bus out of Memphis!

                  2. Where to Grocery Shop! The Piggly Wiggly, the world's first self-service grocery store, opened in Memphis in 1916! Pork has been a Memphis staple ever since.

                  3. Memphis - Bar-B-Q Capital of the World! Basketball is not king in Memphis. The favorite sport there is competitive barbecuing. And the culmination of competitive barbecuing takes place at the “Memphis in May” Championship Barbecue Cooking Contest held, logically enough, in May each year in Memphis. To get a real flavor for this event it is suggested you slug down a shot of Open Pit and then take a gander at the following video:

                  http://tinyurl.com/25j7nzd

                  Or, if you want to just get down to the eye-candy, here’s a peek at MIM’s “Miss Piggy Contest.”

                  http://tinyurl.com/2fg6uwz

                  How Did the Grizzlies Get Their Name? The current Memphis Grizzlies had their origin in 1995 when the NBA expanded into Canada, where they were known as the “Vancouver Grizzlies”. In 2001 they abandoned Vancouver and moved to Memphis. In moving, they followed the standard NBA rule of thumb and kept their Grizzlies nickname, this despite the fact that grizzly bears have never been known to roam east of the Mississippi. FedEx, which is headquartered in Memphis, wanted them renamed the “Memphis Express.” The NBA nixed that idea, ruling that no NBA team could be named after a corporation. An additional tidbit! When the team first came to Vancouver, the owner wanted to call them the Vancouver Mounties. That nick was dropped when the Royal Canadian Mounted Police interposed strenuous objections. This is regrettable. I would have loved playing "the Memphis Mounties".

                  Meet Grizz, the Grizz Girls, and, the Grizz Grannies!

                  A. Here’s Memphis Mascot Grizz doing his now NBA banned “Dreaded Ring of Fire” thing! (Hot!)

                  http://tinyurl.com/2fpzn6u

                  B. And here are the Grizz Girls! (Hotter!)

                  http://tinyurl.com/25vf2kc

                  C. And best of all, the Grizz Grannies! (Warning! Hottest of All!)

                  http://tinyurl.com/25aedlm

                  Still want to do a road trip to Memphis? Hell! I forgot all about its real drawing card, Elvis! Maybe we could do a side trip to Graceland!

                  GO PACERS! GO AREA 55!
                  Last edited by IndyHoya; 01-02-2013, 11:16 AM.

                  Comment


                  • #69
                    Re: The all new 2012/13 Area 55, G2 Zone & PTO thread....

                    http://fox59.com/2012/12/31/family-w...hit-run-crash/

                    Comment


                    • #70
                      Re: The all new 2012/13 Area 55, G2 Zone & PTO thread....

                      AREA 55 NEWS YOU CAN TAKE TO THE BANK!!!!

                      Salutations, 55ers!

                      OK, now it’s 2013! And surprise, surprise! Our Pacers ended 2012 on a high note, deftly dispatching the Memphis Grizzlies at home 88-83. That win put us back on top of the Central, and up one full game on Chicago and Milwaukee.

                      All told, it was a nice team effort. Basically everyone picked up the slack for a missing George Hill (who had to sit out with a thigh contusion). It was a breakout game for D. J. Augustin, who got big minutes and responded. He popped in a season high 17 points in his fill-in role. Paul George too was stellar, holding Memphis’ leading scorer, Rudy Gay, to 3-17 shooting while pumping in 21 points and garnering 5 assists, 2 steals and a block. D-Train was tough when he had to be – as usual, and at crunch time. Roy played a pretty good game too – netting 9 points, 6 rebounds, and 4 blocks.

                      Tonight, we get another home view from 101 as the hapless Washington Wizards come to town.

                      On paper, the 4-25 Wizards should be easy pickings. They have the worst record in the NBA and are coming to Indy on the heels of a loss last night at home to Dallas. They are 1-10 on the road.
                      The Wizards are also riddled with injuries. Their best player, John Wall has been out all season with a bad knee. Last night, Trevor Booker (strained right knee), Trevor Ariza (strained left calf), A. J. Price (broken hand) and leading scorer, Jordan Crawford (sore left ankle) were all DNPs. Nene has returned to center, but he’s playing limited minute due to plantar fasciitis. The injuries led the Wizards to recall ex-Butler standout Shelvin Mack and Garrett Temple from the D-League to fill in. Mack isn’t 100% either, playing limited minutes due to a groin strain incurred recently in a game the Wizards lost to Chicago. True to form, they lost again at home last night to Dallas.

                      Yup, on paper we should absolutely smear the Wizards. And that’s what worries me. Two of the Wizards’ wins this year came over the Heat and the Thunder. Also, they’re playing better with Nene back in the lineup. They’ve been in a lot of games but haven’t been able to finish well. We have to take a team as desperate as them seriously.

                      Annual Road Trip OK, road warriors, what’s it going to be? Detroit on Saturday February 23rd at 7:00 P.M. looks like a target date for a road trip. A large block of tix for MLK Day in Memphis is not likely to be do-able. Therefore, let me know how many of you are interested in going to Detroit and whether you’re willing to buy your ticket. Rob Laycock tells me he’ll check on the potential availability of a block of them in Motown once I give him a heads up on our potential numbers and monetary wherewithal. Email me with your inclinations ASAP or talk to me about it at tonight’s game. We need to start getting things lined up right away.

                      Hypnotic Half Time Act Leaves BLF Crowd in Stupor! Perhaps it was numbing carryover from the dog-riding monkeys. Or maybe folks at the Memphis game were drunk or just tired. Whatever the case, fans there were pretty much put to sleep by the half time stage mesmerism of Tom Silver, “The World’s Greatest Hypnotist!”

                      Hypnotist Tom from Los Angeles (as he calls himself on his website), wearing a funny sort of sparkly hypno-tux (Possibly this was an homage to Liberace or maybe he was just going to a New Year’s Eve party afterwards. It could have been either or both), started the ball rolling early, trolling the crowd for “volunteers” that were “willing to be hypnotized”. Thus, he had a full 24 minutes to do his Svengali thing on the feeble-minded before his skills would be put to the acid test at half time. Eager to be mentally euthanized, lots of Hoosier hands amiably went up. Hypno Tom then chose around 25 people.

                      Lots of Area 55ers’ hands shot up too. I know faithful 55er, Hobert Montgomery IV, (seen volunteering below) was particularly disappointed that he was not selected.

                      http://tinyurl.com/bk77m9n

                      But Tom knew better than to pick the likes of anyone from Area 55. He opted instead to get all his victims from the notoriously suggestible lower levels of BLF. This is when I began to smell a rat.

                      See, it is a well-known fact that weaker minds abound in BLF’s more expensive lower seating. The ticketholders there are half-hypnotized already and mostly snore through their Pacers games. Thus, in selecting from their narcoleptic number, Hypno Tom cleverly gained a decisive hypno-advantage right from the get-go. Indeed, about the only thing known to roil the typical lower-level ticketholder is the prospect of a thrilling Fourth Quarter T-shirt Toss. Hell, everyone – including Hypno Tom -- knows that!

                      Anyway, at half time, Tom reappeared, all spangly and energetic, with around seven or eight of his more docile and somnolent selectees. He quickly had them all sit down in chairs strategically placed at mid-court. We were never told what happened to the remainder of the 25 or so that Tom had picked earlier. Possibly they resisted his mesmeric wiles. Then again, they may now be playing cellos in the ISO or, even better, rapping out some backup for Jay-Z.

                      Once he had his benumbed acolytes seated, Tom promptly ordered them to “Go to sleep!” And damned if that isn’t just exactly what they did! Heads were lolling and snores were heard even at club seating levels. I would have drifted off too, but the Newsletter’s normal reviewer, Fighting Jon LaFollette, wandered off somewhere with his pert red-headed squeeze and stuck me with doing this review. Hence, I had to keep my eyes open and my head clear and alert to monitor for any untoward shenanigans.

                      Once he had the locals sleeping, Hypno Tom then started shoving them in their backs, possibly to wake them up, saying stuff like “Stand up! You’re a concert violinist!” And sure enough, the ones he shoved all stood up and started sawing away on imaginary fiddles like they were all Yitzak Perlman. It was kind of like a silent hoedown. Then Tom made them all sit down, and then get up again and play guitars! Then sit down and then get up and play pianos! It was like watching a silent, musical chairs version of “The Music Man” only with the sinister all-controlling Hypno Tom playing the role of a sort of evil, mind-controlling Professor Harold Hill.

                      Tom stayed with a musical theme throughout his act. But abandoning instrumental musicianship, he next turned his subjects into performers, with the hypnotized then assuming, alternately, the roles of hip-hop artists, opera singers, and even hot-bodied erotic rock singers. Being Irish, I particularly liked his chosen finale -- when he turned everybody into obnoxious Riverdancing step dancers. True, none were as good as Michael Flatley, but the effort was certainly there.

                      Whether the participants were or were not really “Hip-Mo-Tized” during the spectacle was a subject of great debate in Area 55 afterwards. I dunno. But I’m pretty sure that not all of them were. One of the “hypnotized” totally blew it – standing up from his chair to hip hop before Hypno Tom shoved him in the back and actually told him to do so .

                      I once read somewhere that most stage hypnotists get the job done by using cooperative, compliant audience types that so want to be part of the act that they are willing act like, and sometimes even believe, that they are hypnotized. Once selected, they’ll do whatever the hypnotist wants simply because they don’t want to ruin a show that they’re an important part of. Another favorite stage hypno-control technique is for the hypnotist to give the subjects $10.00 apiece and urge them to go along with everything for venal monetary reasons. I think the latter was Hypno Tom’s method. It’s the surest way!

                      Well, Hypno Tom from L.A.’s act was something different. It was a bit better than its predecessor -- the devil-dog hell-riding monkeys from the Phoenix game -- but not by much. The whole thing could have been a lot better. A little sex would have helped. For example, if Hypno Tom had grabbed some of the Pacemates, hypnotized them, and turned them into his eager love slaves I would have been more intrigued. I’m just throwing ideas out here, mind you. Tom’s act needed something - more pizzazz. A little prurient sex, and less imaginary music, certainly might have helped.

                      By the way, if you weren’t selected by Tom and you still might want him to hyp-mo-tize you, you can call him at 1-805-384-1040 or visit him at his website at www.tomsilver.com As Tom says: ***REASONABLE RATES ***

                      AND NOW FOR SOME FUN FACTS ABOUT THE WASHINGTON WIZARDS!

                      Just How Bad Is Washington? Answer: Pretty Bad! If the Pacers weren’t playing them tonight, I’d probably be rooting for the Washington Wizards. Playing them on most nights is a bit like drowning a puppy. There isn’t much glory in beating them. At 4-25, the Wizards presently have the worst record in the NBA. Beating them calls to mind horrendous images: It’s like the bully kicking sand in the face of a weakling at the beach, and then walking off with his girl! It’s like the neighborhood ruffian stealing junior’s lunch money. It conjures up scenes of burly high school lettermen pouring water into the class nerd’s felt-tipped pens.

                      How bad are the Wizards? Well, pretty bad. Awfully bad.

                      Charles Barkley, with “Sweet Georgia Brown” whistling in the background on TNT, refers to them as the Harlem Globetrotters’ old foil – “The Washington Generals.”

                      “You want to call them, Bullets, Wizards. I call ’em the Washington Generals,” Barkley said. “Hey, that’s my man Meadowlark Lemon out there!”

                      On Craigslist, a Wizards season-ticket holder recently gave away his tickets for free.

                      “I am selling my two Wizards tickets tonight at $20 each,” the ad read. “If the Wizards do not beat the Spurs, I will refund your money.”

                      An ensuing subsequent 26-point shellacking by San Antonio wound up costing the guy $40. But, hey, at least he didn’t have to go watch them in person.

                      Last year, just before the lock-out, a Washington Post poll found that less than half of D.C-area sports fans — only 44% — had a favorable view of the team. And just 29% of NBA fans in the region named the Wizards as their favorite team in the survey. A surprising 14%t of the region’s NBA fans listed the Lakers as their No. 1 team, while 9%t named the Celtics and 7% picked the Miami Heat. That was last year, when the Wizards were better. God knows what such a poll would reveal today.

                      The downward spiral has affected the team. For former Pacer and present Wizard’s guard A. J. Price, all the losses have altered his TV viewing habits:

                      “You can’t really watch TV,” Price said before the Wizards faced the Knicks at Madison Square Garden recently. “You can’t really watch ‘Sports Center’ or NBA TV, the stuff you normally watch, because you don’t want to see what they say about you. That’s been the hardest part.”

                      What happened to the Wizards?

                      For three straight years, they drafted high in the lottery, nabbing a trio of coveted young players: In 2010 they obtained a sure-fire star in John Wall, who’d dazzled college basketball in his one season at Kentucky as a freshman. Next, they picked a terrific athlete in Jan Vesley, a 6’11” center blessed with great energy and solid defensive presence. Finally, in Bradley Beal they acquired a scorer who made the game look easy.

                      Of course, there was no guarantee that these lottery tickets would pay off. For the most part, they didn’t.

                      Wall showed little progress in his second season, and then came the knee damage that has sidelined him for this season. It’s the kind of injury that might waylay forever a star whose forte is his athleticism. But what’s worse is that Wall’s running mates have turned into a bizarro version of their earlier lottery-pick promise.

                      Jan Vesely (the Wizards’ #6 pick in 2011) is presently averaging 2.2 ppg. He’s also arguably the worst free-throw shooter in the league. At times “he’s just running around out there,” Wizards Coach Randy Wittman said of him earlier this year.

                      Drafted for his scoring ability, Bradley Beal (the Wizards’ #3 pick this season) is shooting 36% from the field and 28% from three. Wittman recently benched him following a loss last week to the Cavaliers.

                      Kevin Seraphin (the Wizards’ #17 pick in 2010), a pleasant surprise in the spring, has painfully regressed; his PER of 10.5 is well down from the 15.8 he posted last season.

                      Chris Singleton (the Wizards’ #18 pick in 2011) now appears to have fallen out of the rotation.

                      But the problems don’t end with the Wizards’ young players. The problem is the team’s lack of ability. The problem is their late-game execution. The problem is their injuries. The problem is that there are too many problems. Take your pick.

                      It’s sad to pen yet another post about the Wizards’ ongoing struggles. But until the team figures out a way to demonstrate progress, their story will only be about their inability to win. Unfortunately it’s about all you can say about a team that’s lost 25 of its 29 games this year and is on the way to yet one more horrifying season.

                      Fan ardor in Washington too has understandably dimmed. See below:

                      http://tinyurl.com/av4hfk2

                      http://tinyurl.com/adfh3qf

                      Ah God, help the Wizards. But not tonight.

                      GO PACERS! GO AREA 55!
                      Last edited by IndyHoya; 01-02-2013, 10:15 AM.

                      Comment


                      • #71
                        Re: The all new 2012/13 Area 55, G2 Zone & PTO thread....

                        Thank goodness for IndyHoya's recent review. It allowed me to put the commercial breaks between episodes of SyFy' New Year's Twilight Zone Marathon to good use. Now...let me shed some light upon the mystery of "The Hypmotizer." I'll state for the record that I was one of those "weaker-minded lower seaters" for the Memphis game. When Hypno-Tom solicited volunteers, neither I nor my daughter's hand went up. Instead, I actively campaigned to have Hypno-Tom select the nice-looking lady sitting next to me. My gesturing worked, and she was selected. Much to my chagrin, however, she returned not 10 minutes later. When I asked what happened, she said that if she had agreed to participate in the show, then she would have had to miss the entire first half, which was something she and many other "selections" did not want to do. Thus, with many folks having returned to their seats, we suspected that the selection process was part of the illusion, so to speak! I mean, how many people, especially the guys, would forfeit half a game, especially at the prices that lower level seats are going for? My daughter and I decided that the group that actually allowed themselves to be hypnotized were either plants traveling with the Hypno-Tom act or local "talent" hired by Hypno-Tom (whom which would receive more than $10 for their performance). The latter seems more likely, as my daughter spotted one of the "hypnotees" leaving BLF after the game with her friend/boyfriend/husband. So, there ya go!

                        Comment


                        • #72
                          Re: The all new 2012/13 Area 55, G2 Zone & PTO thread....

                          See! Shame your lady-friend didn't go forward with the hypno thing and expose Hypno Tom for the fake Rasputin that he really was!

                          Comment


                          • #73
                            Re: The all new 2012/13 Area 55, G2 Zone & PTO thread....

                            Originally posted by joeyd View Post
                            Thank goodness for IndyHoya's recent review. It allowed me to put the commercial breaks between episodes of SyFy' New Year's Twilight Zone Marathon to good use. Now...let me shed some light upon the mystery of "The Hypmotizer." I'll state for the record that I was one of those "weaker-minded lower seaters" for the Memphis game. When Hypno-Tom solicited volunteers, neither I nor my daughter's hand went up. Instead, I actively campaigned to have Hypno-Tom select the nice-looking lady sitting next to me. My gesturing worked, and she was selected. Much to my chagrin, however, she returned not 10 minutes later. When I asked what happened, she said that if she had agreed to participate in the show, then she would have had to miss the entire first half, which was something she and many other "selections" did not want to do. Thus, with many folks having returned to their seats, we suspected that the selection process was part of the illusion, so to speak! I mean, how many people, especially the guys, would forfeit half a game, especially at the prices that lower level seats are going for? My daughter and I decided that the group that actually allowed themselves to be hypnotized were either plants traveling with the Hypno-Tom act or local "talent" hired by Hypno-Tom (whom which would receive more than $10 for their performance). The latter seems more likely, as my daughter spotted one of the "hypnotees" leaving BLF after the game with her friend/boyfriend/husband. So, there ya go!
                            Didn't you notice two of the "contestants" wearing shirts from the Fan Jam? They probably gave those to them to wear to look like "real fans". However, their shirts were really big and baggy.

                            Comment


                            • #74
                              Re: The all new 2012/13 Area 55, G2 Zone & PTO thread....

                              Originally posted by duke dynamite View Post
                              Didn't you notice two of the "contestants" wearing shirts from the Fan Jam? They probably gave those to them to wear to look like "real fans". However, their shirts were really big and baggy.
                              Aha! More phoniness detected by Dukie's keen eyes! Hypno Tom could be the worst case of halftime fraud to hit BLF since Dan Menendez, The Piano Juggler, came to town! I'm writing an angry letter to Commissioner David Stern about this later today! I want an investigation!
                              Last edited by IndyHoya; 01-02-2013, 12:19 PM.

                              Comment


                              • #75
                                Re: The all new 2012/13 Area 55, G2 Zone & PTO thread....

                                Good review on the first Milwaukee trip. I'm glad that last years trek up there went much more smoothly. It was probably the most memorable part of last season for me. This potential trip to Detroit, however, sounds like it could be even better with G2Zone also being involved.

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