Here are some relevant statistics from Game 1 of the NBA Finals: The Oklahoma City Thunder had 18 fewer turnovers than the Indiana Pacers; the Thunder attempted 16 more field goals than the Pacers and took exactly half of their shots at the rim; 14 of the Pacers' 24 turnovers were caused by Thunder steals; the Pacers led the game for 0.3 seconds. Here is the most relevant of them all: This morning the Thunder find themselves down 0-1 in the NBA Finals, having fallen to the Pacers, 111–110.
For about 47 minutes, this game looked like nothing other than a win for the Thunder. All those [pre-series questions](https://defector.com/before-you-is-the-defector-mega-preview-of-the-2025-nba-finals-kneel) about whether the Pacers' chaos-forward offense could somehow undermine the Thunder's brutal attacking defense started to feel very silly, very quickly. The Thunder held the Pacers to 20 points in the first quarter and ripped away 12 steals in the first half, setting a record for most steals in a half during the play-by-play era. OKC's defense was doing exactly what it did to the Timberwolves and Nuggets, and it was doing to Tyrese Haliburton exactly what it did to Nikola Jokic and Anthony Edwards—shoving him into the margins of the game as a bully shoves a victim into a locker. Haliburton finished the first half with three turnovers and six points on four field goal attempts.
The 15-point lead the Thunder had at the 9:42 mark of the fourth quarter was exactly like the dozens of other 15-point leads this team had manufactured throughout a 68-win regular season and a 12-4 playoff run. The Thunder have been in scores of games just like this one during their ascent to the top of the Western Conference, and they have won almost all of them. The familiar script was unfolding: OKC controlled the game with their physicality and defensive pressure while Shai Gilgeous-Alexander (38 points) got buckets whenever and wherever needed, a process that usually just continues until the other team's spirit breaks.
The Pacers are not a normal team, though, and we are long past the point of acknowledging there is something genuinely strange and inexplicable behind their proficiency for winning games that were never really in their grasp. I am now realizing that we are several hundred words into this blog post and I have yet to show or even describe the game-winning shot that was hit by Haliburton with 0.3 seconds left on the clock. Forgive me, it's just that when a shot like that goes in, one so incredible and improbable that it immediately alters the reality of everything that came before it, some time is needed to come to grips with the fact that 2 + 2 suddenly equals 5.
Haliburton has now made four game-winning or game-tying buckets in the final five seconds of a game during this postseason. That shot also gave the Pacers their fifth 15-point comeback victory in this postseason, and we are now at the point where a generation's worth of miraculous shots and outcomes have been produced by one team over the course of two months. Haliburton's shot from last night deserves to be the first thing that anyone thinks about when the 2025 Pacers are mentioned in the future, but it will have to get in line behind eight Points In 47 Seconds and Down 14 With 2:51 Left To Play.
If you seek an explanation for how this particular game ended up a Pacers' victory, there are places to look. You can start with Thunder head coach Mark Daigneault inserting Cason Wallace into the starting five and sticking to a small-ball lineup that allowed the Pacers—a team without a particular acuity for rebounding—to finish the game with a 17-rebound advantage. You can point to Obi Toppin hitting five threes off the bench and mutter something about shooting variance. You are welcome to note that the Thunder shot just 43 percent at the rim and then wager all the lint in your pocket that such a thing will not happen again this series.
I spit on your attempts to find explanations for this outcome in physical reality. _Pwah!_ It is obvious to me now that reasons for the Pacers' success can only be found in the metaphysical realm, and that they are carried forward by an accord with forces beyond our limited understanding. The fact of the matter is that once the Pacers fall behind by 15 points, the game in question comes under the dread influence of the Lord of Flies. A sickly haze falls over the arena and suddenly the game is being played according to rules that do not adhere to our physical laws. The court is plunged into a reality where Myles Turner side-stepping into a corner three can yield no other result than the ball banking off the backboard and into the hoop; where an Andrew Nembhard airball can end up nowhere other than Pascal Siakam's mitts; where one of the putziest attempts at a game-winning shot I've ever seen ends up cash. Watch that last play again—Haliburton lurching over half court with five seconds left to play, hesitantly dribbling himself into a dead end on the right wing, and then flailing his way into an awkward pull-up jumper. Pause that sequence on any frame before the one in which the ball passes through the hoop, and ask yourself if you _really_ believe there's a logical explanation for how the Pacers won that game.