I’m going to start this with something that’s a little funny — just to lighten the mood.

That’s not my mom.

After Game 7, I guess this clip went viral, you’ve probably seen it. I’m crying my eyes out as I’m walking off the court, and one of the TV camera guys is following me through the tunnel. And you can see this woman just kind of notice the camera guy — immediately block him from me — and then motion at him like, SIR. SIR, DO NOT TAKE ANOTHER STEP. LEAVE T.J. ALONE. I think it must have been the way she seemed so protective of me … but people assumed it was my mom. So then of course the clip got shared all over social media, with millions of views and these captions like, “T.J. MCCONNELL’S MOM DOES NOT PLAY.” Yeah. Lol. Not my mom.

Who it is, though, is Karen Atkeson — our VP of Player Relations with the Pacers. I’ve developed a great relationship with Karen over the six seasons I’ve been here. And I think she saw I was in tears, saw how raw my emotions were, so she gave me this big hug and tried talking me through it. And then when the TV camera started following me, she just reacted out of support. 

And all jokes aside … I actually think it says a lot that people figured it was my mom in the video. Because in a way it’s what our mentality was as a team the whole season. I know it’s a cliché, but I swear to God: We did this as a family. 

It was the players, it was the coaches, it was people like Karen throughout the organization, it was legends from past Pacers teams, it was everyone with the Fever, it was our amazing fans…… so many different people. That’s how it felt anyway. It felt like we built this from the ground up — together, as a family. Then we grinded through the highs and lows of the season as a family. Then we won (and won, and won, and won) in the playoffs as a family. 

And in the end, unfortunately, yeah: We lost as a family.

What’s ironic is, I really did need some mom-type support, heading through the tunnel after Game 7. Your season ends the way ours did……. you’re pretty much feeling like a little kid in that moment. It’s total helplessness, you know?? You go from walking onto the floor, pre-game, and you’re believing in your heart you’re about to win a championship — to then suddenly you’re walking off and it’s over. Just over, the end, time to go home. Plus our guy is on crutches and we all know what it is. I could tell you how that moment was bittersweet, or how there were mixed emotions, but I’d be lying. 

It was just f***ing devastating, man. 

And if I told you that this past month has been any better……. I’d be lying, too. Every time I remember how close we came, it hurts all over again.

But I decided to put some thoughts down for a couple of reasons.

One, to say thank you for — straight up — the best basketball season of my life. 

How it ended was so awful, but the rest? It meant everything.

And then the second reason is, I wanted to share something that’s been on my mind since Game 7. I’ve been thinking about how, part of why losing that game was so hard, was that we’d gotten to a point where we believed in ourselves so strongly — as a group that always finds a way. We were in all these situations, all playoffs, where people gave us no chance. But we kept finding ways to win. Even heading into Game 6, after OKC blew us out and Tyrese got hurt, people were pouring dirt on our chances and acting like it was a wrap. But we stayed alive. And it’s like you do that enough times … it gets hard to believe there could be a time when you won’t do it. You know what I mean? So then when Game 7 went how it did, I feel like it wasn’t even just sadness we were experiencing. It was also shock. Like, Wait, no — what?? That’s not how it goes for us, sorry. That’s not how the story ends.

And if there’s a message I wanted to get across in here, other than thanking you guys, it’s this: I still think that’s not how the story ends. Honestly. 

I know we’re being written off now by everyone. I know they’re thinking the Pacers are done, or that this run we just went on will be the peak for our group. And I understand why. But it’s the same bulls*** we’ve always dealt with in Indy — and it’s the same exact thing we’ve had to hear so many times over the last year. Swept by the Celtics, they’re done. Started out 10–15, they’re done. Down 7 late to the Bucks, down 7 late to the Cavs, down 9 late to the Knicks, down 15 late to the Thunder, they’re done. Down 3–2 in the Finals, they’re done. 

Lost Game 7 in the most brutal way possible … lost their franchise player for next season … lost their center in free agency … they’re done.

You’d think people would learn by now, but: We’re actually not done.

And I guess that’s my message to any Pacers fans reading this. I have no idea what the future holds. Getting over Game 7 will be tough. Replacing Myles will be tough. Playing without Tyrese will be … whatever is tougher than tough. But you know that feeling we all started to have as the playoffs went on — how there’s just something about this team? Man, I promise you: That feeling was real. 

And we’re going to work like hell to feel it again soon.

I’ll end this on another funny story — it’s dumb, but whatever. I think it kind of speaks to what’s cool about our group. 

Alright … so I’m a 6’1″ white guy in his mid-30s. In other words, I’m not exactly stopping traffic as this NBA player people recognize. And that’s just me on a normal day. You can imagine, on a day when I’m wearing a hat? I’m almost definitely not getting recognized. And during COVID, when you added a mask to the mix — nah, forget it. I was pretty much fully anonymous.

And all that is to say: It’s not Tyrese’s fault. But on his first day in Indy after he got traded, as he was walking through the facility, he and I crossed paths. And I’ve got my hat on, my mask up … I’m chilling. I’m not even thinking about that, though. So of course I just go right up to him, real excited, and I’m like, “Tyrese!!! What’s up brother. How are you??? Bro, welcome to Indy.”

Yeah, Tyrese did not know who I was. He was very friendly, but 1000% thought I was some guy who works on the business side. Then a few awkward seconds passed, until eventually I realized what was going on. I took my hat off, pulled my mask down, and we started laughing so hard.

We joke about that story with each other all the time……. and honestly I can’t help but think of it right now, as I kind of look back on the season we had. Like — I can’t help but think of how so much of what we’ve built here with the Pacers, it’s based on this low-profile, no-ego, almost anonymous vibe: whether it’s our Player Relations VP being mistaken for “T.J.’s mom,” because she showed me so much support … or it’s guys in our rotation being mistaken for “role players,” because so many of them are willing to sacrifice for team success … or it’s our city being mistaken for “small-market,” when it’s louder and tougher to play in than any big-market arena … or it’s Tyrese being mistaken for “overrated,” when he’s an absolute killer, maybe the best point guard in the world, one of the best dudes in the league, and without a doubt a future NBA champion.

I’m not sure if that vibe is why we’ve been successful — but I do think it’s part of it. And I hope there’s some comfort in that, especially as we look forward to next season, and have to hear about how our “window is closed” or whatever. I mean….. maybe it is?? I guess it could be. This is a tough f***ing league. 

Or maybe nobody knows what they’re talking about. 

Maybe everybody is just mistaken again. 

Maybe they underestimated Indiana one more time.

—T.J.