How the Pacers are advancing the past in the present (Patreon)

On the play that connects two eras and why the common thread also doubles as a line of demarcation 

By: Caitlin Cooper I @C2_Cooper  

Deep in the heart of the offseason, when the schedule has yet to be released, transactions are at a standstill, and The Discourse is consumed by debates over NBA2K24 ratings, the void of actual NBA basketball is generally filled by offseason workouts or the occasional FIBA friendly. That is, unless you are the author, editor, and publisher of Basketball, She Wrote and you decide to pass the time, as any blogger who grew up watching the Pacers during the 2000's would, digging into the archives of old, admittedly, grainy footage of Jermaine O'Neal. Turns out, those teams, which were coached by Rick Carlisle, also have something in common with the current team that is coached by Rick Carlisle. And yet, even with the choreography that ties them together, there's a case to be made that the more things stay the same, the more they *actually* change. 

Let's investigate!

The year is 2007 and the word "flex" can be heard emanating from the opposing team's bench. That's because the Pacers are preparing to run a screen-the-screener action in which a player sets a back-screen for the inbound passer, who then sets a cross-screen or "flex" screen before receiving a pindown to cut from the weak-side block to the weak-side elbow area. Now, as was detailed in a prior post about opening tips and halftime adjustments, the Pacers call this play "face," and signal for it by waving their hand in front of their face. There's a lot of moving parts, with options and reads that continue beyond what is typically thought of as "flex" action, but the initial screen is where the difference between the two eras already starts coming into focus.

Back-screen for the inbound passer 

Just look at Stephen Jackson during the prior season. At first glance, the motions are identical, right down to the subtleties of subterfuge. Even before Jackson inbounds the ball, Šarūnas Jasikevičius is intentionally rejecting a different action, bluffing as though he is about to come off a down screen from the player at the elbow to cut from the strong-side low block to the slot, in the same manner as T.J. McConnell in the present. Uncanny, right? 

Well, turn the attention back to Jackson. Once the inbound pass is made, he'll receive the back-screen from Jasikevičius, possibly looking for an easy layup or mismatch. Most of the time in the NBA, that option won't be there. The main purpose is to force the back-screener's defender to sag off and be late chasing through the next screening action, like this:

By comparison, the reality is quite different for Jackson, who makes the cut as the first option but never receives the pass, which goes down as a turnover for Danny Granger. 

But, spot who intercepts the pass. For clarity, that's David Harrison standing at the elbow and preparing to set the pindown for Jasikevičius. Over his four-year career, Harrison's average shot distance was five feet, and he shot 39 percent from in-between the paint and the three-point line. As such, his defender has no qualms with collapsing on the cut. Fast forward 16 years and note the change in response from Franz Wagner. With Oshae Brissett standing in for Harrison, Wagner isn't even looking over his shoulder, let alone being so bold as to play for the pass.

For the season, Brissett only shot 31 percent from three, but "shot" is the operative word. Harrison never would've been seen spotting up beyond the arc. As a result, while it may not happen often that the inbound passer is left open after cutting below his teammate, Bennedict Mathurin has an advantage in that he only has to sneak behind the switch -- as opposed to being met by an extra body. 

The back-screener receives a screen 

When that option gets covered up, which (again) it often does, the back-screener then uses a pindown from the player at the elbow, normally, to come get the ball and run offense. In 2007, however, when the back-screener's defender gets snagged behind the pindown, that might mean that Jamaal Tinsley seizes the opportunity to hop into a catch-and-shoot two.

As a team, the Pacers attempted 78 catch-and-shoot twos last season. Tinsley, just by himself, hoisted 32 that year with an 18 percent conversion rate. Here, Kyrie Irving gets caught running into contact on the pindown in similar fashion, and Haliburton doesn't even consider holding his spot or curling toward the ball. 

At the same time, Myles Turner also doesn't seem as though he has any intention of meeting Haliburton at that spot, as he instead throws the ball out beyond the arc. Notably, Haliburton attempted exactly one catch-and-shoot two last season, which he missed. In that regard, rather than planting his left foot to square up, he opens himself up laterally off that foot to receive the pass, all while scanning the floor for what might develop next.

The flex screen

On the weak-side of the floor, the inbound passer, as previously described, sets a flex screen so the player in the opposite corner can cut horizontally into the paint and, possibly, out through the other side. That's what happens here, when Fred Jones scurries along the baseline and fades into a pull-up two with his defender attempting to shoot the gap. 

Look at where Jermaine O'Neal is positioned, though. After he sets the pindown for the back-screener, he immediately seals his man on the block. When he doesn't get the ball, he turns the post-up into the second screen of a stagger for Jones to manipulate. 

Jones makes the correct read to fade, but the screen is set so close to the basket that he doesn't have enough time to get behind the three-point line -- which brings up an interesting player development question as to how much of coaching is recognizing that a player is going to have a particular footwork routine and designing the offense so that the routine takes him all the way to the corner versus how much is getting him to change his route? 

In the future, it appears as though the answer trends more toward the latter, as the offense is geared more around screening for the offense to be initiated from the perimeter than providing the option to potentially feed the post.

With Jalen Smith lifted out to the wing as the screener, Aaron Nesmith only has to run out to the three-point line as the cutter and turn around. 

Of course, it helps that Kyle Kuzma got caught hitting the snooze button at the point in which the flex screen occurred, but the change in priorities still ends up being the difference between searching for breathing room from mid-range and attacking an off-balance closeout with touch. (Also, as a quick aside: Watch Myles Turner when his defender rotates to Nesmith at the rim. Rather than diving behind the help coverage and manufacturing an angle for a drop-off pass, he backpedals out to the corner -- as the five-man. Just a hunch, but it seems doubtful that O'Neal would've relocated to that particular spot under the same set of circumstances.)

Post seal following a ball reversal 

In defense of the 2005-06 team, Jermaine O'Neal was an All-Star that season, averaging 20.1 points, 9.3 rebounds, and 2.6 assists while scoring 0.888 points per possession on post-ups -- the eighth best mark among the 16 players in the league who used at least five post-up possessions per game. There was reason to orient the offense around the defensive attention he commanded with his array of low-post moves and quick, agile footwork, despite the fact that he had a tendency to fall in love with tough, contested mid-range jumpers, including fadeaways and turnarounds, while taking up space when he didn't touch the ball. That said, even with the staggering knowledge that O'Neal finished with over twice as many post-up possessions (532) as last season's entire roster (222), it's a bit jarring to see that same approach apply to other members of the team.

For example, this is Austin Croshere receiving an entry pass from Stephen Jackson (who, by the way, is standing inside the arc), after setting the weak-side pindown as the trigger man. 

Croshere shot 38 percent on jump-shots that season; and yet, there he is facing-up to drive out of a post touch with a wild finish. According to Second Spectrum, Myles Turner only logged 21 direct post-ups against centers last season, compared to 74 versus guards. Put simply, if there wasn't a switch, he didn't spend a lot of time jockeying for position on the block. That's why, rather than immediately diving into Nic Claxton, as Croshere did against a like-sized defender back in the day, Turner immediately screens for the ball in what becomes an empty-side pick-and-roll, allowing him to punish the late-switch on the roll without a tagger in sight.

To be fair, Croshere probably isn't going to move toward the basket after setting a screen, but he could've popped. Rewind the play to when the back-screener receives a screen to come to the ball, and Andrew Nembhard can be seen doing exactly that, releasing out to three as the screener and sliding away so as to lengthen the closeout following the peel-back switch.

Plus, just the fact that Nembhard is operating in that role, which was predominantly occupied by forwards being defended by forwards, as part of a lineup with four guards says a lot with regard to the level of basketball diversity and cross-matching that now exists within the same set play. 

Two-man game 

In contrast to Croshere, there was a rare sighting during the following season involving Troy Murphy, where that player stepped up toward the elbow in tandem with the ball reversal to set a flat ball-screen. With the ball-handler driving toward the sideline, however, the end result is yet another baseline two.

As an alternate ending, this is a gorgeous reimagining. With Buddy Hield foregoing the screen to pitch the ball ahead, Turner fakes the hand-off and turns the ball downhill with his left. Then, in a blast from the future, he maintains his balance with a Rondo-style stride stop, using an inside-hand ball fake to pivot into a hook shot. 

Just for emphasis, rather than wrestling with his back to the basket, that's a 6-foot-11 center gracefully completing a drive with a finishing move. It's also two points scored in the non-restricted area of the paint, as opposed to a dribble jumper along the baseline from Hield.

Counters and Variations 

When opponents start to get keen to the initial back-screen and pressure the cutter, the Pacers, both then and now, will counter by showing a similar alignment that looks like the original flex play or what they refer to as "face" until the very last second. At that moment, the inbound passer abruptly chooses a different adventure, darting in the opposite direction toward the ball.

For his career, Mike Dunleavy shot a career-worst 28.3 percent from three after being traded to the Pacers that season, but the position of the screener doesn't even give him a chance to run  behind the three-point line, especially with his defender shooting the gap. There might be some explanation for that if the screener lacked shooting range or playmaking ability, but that's Danny Granger. In the present, when Haliburton abruptly changes the angle on the screen for Hield to cut moving to his right instead of toward the basket, look at where Jalen Smith is standing. 

He's isn't walking down toward the elbow; he's straddling the three-point line, about to assume position as the second screener. When Brandon Ingram jumps out to the ball, Hield doesn't have space to hoist from deep as Dunleavy did from inside the arc, but the switch creates a domino effect, as Jonas Valanciunas drops down from above the break to scram out the mismatch, 

Ultimately, the possession still ends with a made three -- just from a different location, with a 6-foot-11 center providing the launch point. The 2006-07 team also had another variation that has since been pulled from circulation. When O'Neal sealed following the pindown for the back-screener, the trigger man at the opposite elbow would occasionally drop down to the low block, creating a double-screen for Dunleavy to curl into the paint from the weak-side. 

With the paint packed to the brim with limbs as though being enveloped by a sea of tentacles, however, the ball has a slim chance of reaching it's final resting place without being snatched. 

Moreover, if there isn't room for the ball to sail down the lane, just try to picture Danny Granger knifing to the rim on that possession, as Tyrese Haliburton does here when the waters part.

In that way, while the choreography of the base play has largely remained unchanged, tying together two distinct eras of Pacers basketball, the interpretation of how the base play is performed, from the growing amount of leg room to the expanding diversity of which players do what, continues to evolve --  spaced out not only by years but also function.