Two and Half Decades Later

How a Pacers Game Became a Vision of Who We Could Be

The Indiana Pacers are in the NBA Finals for the first time in two and a half decades.

Two and a half decades!

You may not like or follow basketball (and that’s okay), but let me put this in perspective: I was 25 years old, living in our first apartment in Columbus with a five-month-old baby girl. Flash forward—I’m now graying at 50 and still living in Columbus. We have three kids: that little girl, Anna, is now 25 herself, married, and living in Indy; Caroline, 22, is doing amazing things in the design world; and Will, 14, is busy playing basketball and keeping us on our toes.

Life has changed a lot since then, but my love for the Pacers has never wavered. Even Will has become a huge fan. Knowing the Pacers may not make it to the Finals again in my lifetime, I decided that Will and I had to go to at least one of the games in Indianapolis. So I bought tickets—and it was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. The experience was unbelievable. The game was insanely exciting. And to top it off, they beat the best team in the NBA.

I’ve never been in a louder, more electric environment. An entire arena, unified—standing, cheering, living and breathing every second of the game. But even more powerful was what happened after. The celebration spilled into the hallways and onto the streets. A sea of yellow shirts billowed from the arena and took over downtown Indianapolis.

But here’s what got me—maybe more than anything that night: People were united. People were one.

And not just those of us in yellow shirts who attended the game.

Carloads of fans rolled down their windows, honking and cheering. Random strangers gave me high fives—including the homeless who lined the sidewalks. People of every race were hugging in triumph. I remember a Black woman in the passenger seat of a car, pointing at me, smiling, and nodding in approval.

I tell you all of this because, in a time when it feels like we’re divided in every possible way, moments like this (even though it’s just a basketball game) remind us that we can still come together. When the narratives tell us we should be pit against one another, we can choose unity instead; and I’m not just talking about sports. We can come together in that which transcends our differences—a deep, abiding Love that fosters empathy, mutual respect, and an other-above-self posture— even when we don’t see eye to eye.

The Pacers game was a glimpse of who we can be, if we would trust that the Divine Love that binds us together is immensely greater than the forces trying to tear us apart.

Question

What might it look like to lead with love, even when I disagree with someone?

Peace,

Brandon

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