We’re in Terre Haute today, which gives me an excuse to say a few words about my long time broadcast partner, William Robert (Slick) Leonard.
Terre Haute is Slick’s hometown. He grew up here, and played basketball and tennis at Gerstmeyer High School. He’s a member of the Indiana University Hall of Fame and the Indiana Basketball Hall of Fame, and would be in the Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame if the people that ran it weren’t such a bunch of blithering imbeciles.
Slick’s appeal is not limited to Terre Haute, though. As I roam from town to town on this journey, I’m not at all surprised to discover that people from virtually every place we stop are extremely curious about him. He’s been my partner on Pacer broadcasts for the last 16 seasons, and as the team has struggled in recent seasons with no player that fans universally identify with, I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that he’s the most popular person in our franchise.
I remember when Slick and I first became partners. We had joined forces during the 1994 playoffs, and during the Pacers run to the Eastern Conference Finals it became apparent that we had great chemistry and and had stumbled onto something. We became a full time team the next season, and while that was my idea, I was still a little apprehensive about what might happen. I’d been around a bit by then, having worked in Minneapolis, New York, and St. Louis, but I was still young enough to be full of myself and my ego was such that I was worried that Slick’s presence might cramp my style and limit my ability to put my stamp on the broadcasts.
See, as much as I love him, working with Slick presents a unique set of challenges. He’s a wonderful guy and would do anything for me if I asked, but he’s not really a broadcaster, which took some getting used to. I had been accustomed to working with guys that would leave the live action to me, then jump in with analysis when the play was dead. Slick can certainly provide the analysis, having seen it all as an NBA player, a player-coach in the league, and then as the most successful coach in ABA history, but his style wasn’t (and still isn’t) conventional. I compare it to working with somebody afflicted with Tourette’s; every once is a while, he would let go with an “Ahhhhhh. No!” when things went south for the Pacers, or an “Atta baby!” when the sun was shining. Nothing wrong with that – in fact, it’s part of his appeal – but these outbursts would come right in the middle of the action, and this is radio. On television, the viewer could at least match the picture with the reaction, but that’s not the case in our medium. And Slick’s rants sometimes bordered on incoherence, with unidentifiable sounds replacing actual words. It wasn’t (and still isn’t) uncommon for a “Nnaggh”, an “Ummmph”, or an “Ooooooo” to rise up out of nowhere, depending on Slick’s level of frustration or elation.
So I’m young, and I’m trying to establish myself. I’d done some Big Ten stuff and worked as a backup play-by-play guy in the NHL before coming to the Pacers, but this was my first real chance on the big stage, and I was afraid I was going to have to carry Slick in addition to calling the action. But as the years went by, it wasn’t hard to see that Slick’s approach was not only popular with our fans, it was also entertaining and endearing. In the 16 seasons we’ve shared the broadcasts, I’ve learned more about basketball from Slick than I have from anyone else. Not only that, I’ve learned countless lessons about how to treat people from the man. I’m not great with people, and watching this guy make everyone around him feel like they’re the most important person in the group has been a great education. In our world, it’s rare to find someone that’s both accomplished and a wonderful person, and I would put Slick at the very top of that list.
In the end, with the advantage of hindsight, I’ve come to realize that my original concern about having to carry Slick was unfounded and foolish. Turns out that he’s been carrying me the whole time.
Friday’s Journey: Terre Haute to Brazil
Mileage: 18.1 (Emmit Smith, the NFL’s all time rushing leader, ran for 18,355 yards during his career. Big deal. I’ll walk 13,501 yards more than that Friday. How come I’m not in the Pro Football Hall of Fame?)
On the iPhone: No need for the iPhone Friday. Susan Skelton, who has been an invaluable behind the scenes presence on our Pacer broadcasts for several years, is walking with me. For one of the few times on this trip, I’ll actually have someone to chat with.