Destination Unknown Blog

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I've been surprised by how many people have assumed that I'm counting down the days until the season ends. Come on, people. I've got the best job in the world, and I'd have to be a total moron (please hold all editorial comments) to be looking forward to the end of the season. If the Pacers went 0-and-82, I would still love going to work and would look forward to every single broadcast. So, no, that's what those numbers represent.

I get bored easily, and as a result am continually looking for ways to challenge myself. That's the genesis for things like my 500 mile walk across Indiana a few years back, or my competing in the US Open Chess Tournament back in the day. I like to test myself, and even if I fail, I find the whole process stimulating.

Which brings us to the numbers mentioned at the top of the blog. I decided a few days before training camp started to challenge myself and see if I could go from the first day of camp through the last day of the regular season without drinking. That's 199 days, and those numbers represent where I am on the journey.

You're wondering why I decided to do this, correct? Am I a raging alcoholic? No. Was my drinking preventing me from doing my job, or in any other way affecting me in a negative manner? No, not really. But my body has always processed alcohol in a manner that I gather is unusual. Copious consumption may result in me channelling my inner Dean Martin, but I have never had a hangover. And I literally mean never. Plus, I can grab a stool at 9 PM, shut the bar down, and be up and about (sans alarm), totally refreshed and ready to go at 7:30 the next morning. In addition, there is a history of alcoholism in my family that's always in the back of my mind when it comes to making choices in this area, so periodic reassessment strikes me as a responsible decision.

All of that being said, I'm a little disappointed. This challenge hasn't really been all that challenging. There have been no physical cravings, and I've wound down after several home games this season at my favorite local watering hole with a cup of coffee while, all around me, revelers are slamming shots, guzzling beer, and all but receiving whiskey intravenously. And nothing. I don't feel the urge to join them; if anything, I've actually gotten a kick out of being the only sober guy in the room. It's a little like being the only PhD in a room full of high school drop outs. You feel like you know something nobody else in the place knows. Plus, watching some soused up frat boy trying to put the moves on the local talent that inhabits said watering hole always ranks high on the unintentional comedy scale.

So you might wonder why I don't just extend the 199 day and stop drinking forever. It's a legitimate question, in that alcohol is hardly a member of one of the five food groups. But you know what? None of us are getting out alive, so I think I'll take a vice or two with me to the finish line. A good cigar and a fine beverage on occasion may not prolong my life, but it will most assuredly provide me with some pleasure while I'm still kicking.

So count on me getting through this 199 day run and accomplishing my mission. But inevitably, April 16th will get here. And on that day, track me down if you can. And if you do?

Well, I'm counting on you to bring the Knob Creek.

Disclaimer: All opinions expressed by Mark Boyle are solely his own and do not reflect the opinions of the Indiana Pacers, their partners, or sponsors.

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Destination Unknown: Countdown

Though not really a big television watcher, I have become a closet fan of a genre that, until recently, I had regarded with contempt.

Now, not all reality shows. I haven’t gone that far around the bend. But there are a few – Teen Mom 2 and Master Chef come to mind – that have captured my attention and gotten me to thinking.

If I were The King of Television, what reality shows could I come up with that might appeal to the masses?

How about a show where successful coaches cross over into other sports? We could call it “Master Coach” (sorry, Gordon Ramsay, I know we’re flirting with ripping you off here). Who wouldn’t like to see Bill Belichick managing the Chicago Cubs. Would he be forced to abandon his trademark hoodie and wear a uniform? And why do baseball managers wear uniforms, anyway?

I’ve noticed that rappers want to be ballers, and vice versa. We could call this show “Rap Around”. Jay Z could suit up for the team, Brooklyn, in which he has a minority ownership stake. Drake could run the point for his beloved Raptors. And until you’ve heard Gordon Hayward rap (“they call me JJ Reddick, cuz when i shoot, they ask cash or credit”), you don’t know what rap really is. This show has disaster written all over it.

I do 26 road games without a partner this season. How about “Who Wants to be a Broadcaster”? Random fans are selected to work with me on road games. The show would include preliminary challenges, such as seeing how many shots competitors could slam in half an hour before going on the air. The FCC might not like the outcome, but, hey, nothing pleases everyone.

“The Commish”. Yeah, I know there was actually a television show with this title – starring Michael Chiklis – back in the 90’s, but this is a reality show and it’s totally different. Adam Silver wanders around Manhattan, righting wrongs in a variety of tricky social situations ranging from family squabbles to property disputes. Roger Goodell appears occasionally as Silver’s valet.

And, finally, the entire Minnesota roster is invited to compete on Dancing with the Stars. Ricky Rubio spins a ball on the tip of his nose while kicking it to Katy Perry’s “Unconditionally”, while several of his teammates engage is old school dancing, ranging from disco to waltzes. Alas, none of the Minnesota players is really a star, forcing us to rename the show.

Let’s call it “Dances with Wolves”.

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Destination Unknown: MJB's Reality TV Pitches

It's been a few days since I wrote about my brother's diagnosis of terminal liver cancer. I agonized about sharing something so personal with strangers, and through this process I discovered something that I didn't know.  

In the days since that blog entry was posted, I've heard from almost 3,000 people through my own Twitter feed and Facebook page, the Pacers Facebook page, texts, e-mails, and people simply seeking me out in public, offering hugs and support. Your response to something I almost didn't post has been overwhelming, and I can't even begin to explain how you've touched me, nor will I ever be able to appropriately thank all of you. But I do want all of you to know how much your your reaching out means to me.

It's ironic. I make my living with the spoken and written word, and for the first time in my life, I find that I can't quite come up with the words to adequately express my appreciation and gratitude. I can tell you this, though; I've had chances to leave Indianapolis over the years, and I've often thought how nice it would be, when my run here is finished, to return to Minnesota, where I grew up. Because who wouldn't want to go home? But I've realized something that, until the last few days, I didn't know.

I've been home the whole time. Thank you.

Disclaimer: "Destination Unknown" features Pacers radio play-by-play broadcaster Mark Boyle's tales from life on the road, basketball insight, and general musings. Mark's viewpoint is his own and does not reflect the opinions of the Indiana Pacers, their partners, or sponsors.

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Destination Unknown: Indy is Home

Editor's Note: "Destination Unknown" typically features posts regarding Pacers play-by-play radio broadcaster Mark Boyle's life on the road, basketball insight, and general musings. This entry follows a different route, taking a personal turn that's put Mark on a different type of journey away from the basketball court. As always, Mark's take is uniquely his own and does not necessarily reflect the opinions of the Indiana Pacers, their partners, or sponsors.

Not in the way most of us are dying, where death is merely a concept, and even though we know it’s inevitable we rarely think about it. No, my brother Scott is dying in a way that is tangible and bitter, like a dark cloud hovering on the horizon, waiting to unleash a torrent of pain and agony.

I’ve written about Scott before, so I won’t go into the specifics again here, except to say that I’ve more or less assumed for a long time that he would die before I did, even though he’s younger than I am. Still, when my dad called to tell me the news about my brother’s diagnosis (5:52 PM, October 13, 2014; you don’t forget stuff like that), it hit hard. I don’t show my emotions easily or often, but I was enjoying a cup of coffee at a local establishment when I got that call, and I cried in public for the first time in my life. The lady sitting next to me, a total stranger, gave me a big hug, told me her own sister was a cancer survivor, and assured me that everything would turn out all right.

And it’s not just because Scott is nearing the end. That’s a big part of it, obviously, but I’ve always wondered if I could have been a better and more supportive brother. When we were kids, it wasn’t enough to beat him in our various competitions, I had to humiliate him. When I got A’s in school, I would ruthlessly taunt him about his C’s and D’s. I know part of that is about brothers being brothers. But, still, you wonder. What if I’d been more supportive? What if I’d been more empathetic when he started having his problems with drugs and alcohol, instead of wondering why he didn’t have his act together? Yes, I was 17 years old then, but I cringe now when I recall how disgusted I was at his lack of willpower and self control.

And that’s not all I’m feeling guilty about. I’m finding out is that this is as much about how it affects me as it is about my brother dying, and this seems stunningly narcissistic to me. Am I really that selfish? That can’t be a normal feeling, can it? Do others feel that way when they know loved ones are on borrowed time? Do you?

I think about my family. My dad is in his 80s, and I know he's struggling with the idea of burying one of his children. And my sister, who is probably the most caring, supportive person I’ve ever known, is showing a strong front. But she feels things in a way that I never have, and I know she's devastated. What do I do for them?

The doctors say the clock is running, and that Scott’s remaining time can be measured in weeks, or maybe months, not years. And they say that he can expect to suffer through excruciating pain as the days pass. He’s been shot, stabbed, robbed, and homeless. He’s endured surgeries that have, among other things, left him attached to a colostomy bag for months. That’s not enough? Apparently not, and some days this agnostic thinks like an atheist. Can’t he even make it to the finish line pain free?

I’m planning on going to Arizona before too much more time passes to see my brother one last time. He’s an alcoholic and a substance abuser, but if he needs a fifth of Jack to ease the pain, I’ll bring him two. Or three. Or a case. Yeah, I know that there are moral and ethical questions here that might interest some of you. They don’t interest me, because I haven’t done a damn thing to help my brother. Ever. Whatever it takes to help him, even if it’s only for a moment or two, I will do.

Love is a powerful emotion. Scott and I have never been close, and I’ve been really surprised at how profoundly this has affected me. My mom passed several years ago, and while that was difficult, it didn’t come close to impacting me like this. I’m ashamed to admit that while I felt all the normal emotions – sadness, loss, and the like – I grieved more when my beloved cat died than I did when my mom passed. Does this make me a bad guy? Unfeeling? Weird? All of the above? I don’t know. What I do know is that I’m in my 50s and I don’t understand myself any better now than I did when I was in my 20s.

So. My brother is dying, and I’m lost. I don’t know what to do, for him, for my dad, for my sister. Or, for that matter, for myself.

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Destination Unknown: Family, Loss, and Regret

This is Ted Davis. He’s the play-by-play voice of the Milwaukee Bucks, who are in town tonight for a 7:00 tip, and before that he was the play-by-play voice of the Dallas Mavericks. But he’s more than that to me, because, as much as anything, he’s the reason I’m with the Pacers.

In the summer of 1988, I left WFAN Radio to take a position with KMOX Radio in St. Louis. Ordinarily, moving from New York to St. Louis would be a step backwards, but I had been obsessed with KMOX from the time I was a kid. This is hard to imagine today, but there was a time when AM radio ruled, and KMOX was The King of the Jungle. It was (and is) a 50,000 watt blowtorch, and at night you could hear it almost anywhere, including Minneapolis, where I grew up. In addition, the list of industry giants that had worked there included Bob Costas, Harry Caray, Jack Buck, and Dan Dierdorff – just to name a few – and being offered a job there was considered a golden ticket.

Well, it didn’t work out for me. I was miscast from the start. KMOX was conservative Middle America, and while I, too, was Middle America, my style was anything but conservative and didn’t mesh with theirs. They wanted straight-laced, old school sports broadcasters, and I was flip, irreverent, and as inclined to drone on about some annoying person I ran across at the checkout line at the supermarket as I was to expound on the Cardinals current five-game winning streak.

So I decided that my dream of working at KMOX was, in fact, a nightmare and decided to move on. But I had to find a place to land, so I started calling around. One of my cronies mentioned that he had heard that the Dallas Mavericks were looking for a play-by-play voice, so I checked into it and was told that their backup guy, which turned out to be Ted, had left in July to take the Indiana job. However, the lead play-by-play guy in Dallas bolted shortly after that, and Ted had asked out of his Indiana contract and returned to Texas. So the Indiana job was open.

Now this was about two weeks before training camp started and the Pacers were in panic mode. I sent them my stuff, they liked it, and asked me to come to Indianapolis to talk about the job. I interviewed with Larry Mago, now the head honcho at Fox Sports Indiana, and Greg Jamison, who would go on to become the president of the NHL’s San Jose Sharks, and they both liked me.

But I had to get final clearance from Donnie Walsh before we could begin negotiating a contract, and he was preoccupied trying to get Rik Smits signed to a rookie deal and didn’t really have time to invest down at my level of the food chain. So after a few pleasantries, he asked me why he should hire me, and I, being young, full of myself, and perhaps a few dollars short of totally sane, offered the following bon mot:

Now, if you’re a young, aspiring professional, I would advise you to go in another direction if ever asked that question during a job interview. But there were at least two things working in my favor back then. For one thing, I’m pretty sure it was the lowest paying job in the NBA at the time. I do know for certain that I took a pay cut to come here (I was never the best negotiator), but that didn’t concern me because I saw it as an exceptional opportunity. And since the first pre-season game was less than a week away, the Pacers were desperate and probably would have hired the next guy through the door. Which, in this case, was me.

Anyway, that was 27 seasons ago. Ted Davis stayed in Dallas for nine seasons, then left for Milwaukee, where he’s been the Bucks play-by-play guy since 1997, so it worked out for him.  It’s also obviously worked out well for me, and I have Ted to thank.

Maybe that's why he's been trying to get an agent’s commission on every contract I’ve signed since.

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Destination Unknown: The Man Responsible For Me Being Here

With the NBA season starting Tuesday, though I’d deviate from my usual meanderings and actually focus on, you know, basketball for a change.

CHAMPIONSHIP CONTENDERS: San Antonio Spurs, Oklahoma City Thunder, Los Angeles Clippers, Dallas Mavericks.

The Spurs, as defending champion and well-oiled machine, are obvious. So are the Thunder, although missing Kevin Durant for the first few weeks of the season will cost them some regular season wins and possible playoff positioning. The Clippers are loaded and have now been together for a year. That I’ve put Dallas in this group may surprise some, but if Tyson Chandler has anything left and can cover the rim, they’ll be a force.

SOLID PLAYOFF TEAMS: Memphis Grizzlies, Golden State Warriors, Portland Trail Blazers, Houston Rockets.

All of these teams wonder the same thing. Why can’t we be in the East?

FRINGE PLAYOFF TEAMS: New Orleans Pelicans, Phoenix Suns.

Phoenix missed with 49 wins last season, and New Orleans could be one of the most improved teams in the league. Their misfortune is that the West is loaded.

NEXT YEAR. MAYBE: Denver Nuggets, Los Angeles Lakers, Minnesota Timberwolves, Sacramento Kings, Utah Jazz.

The Lakers could be the worst team in the West. How times have changed.

CHAMPIONSHIP CONTENDERS: Chicago Bulls, Cleveland Cavaliers.

This comes down to Derrick Rose. If he’s healthy and can regain his pre-injury form, Chicago goes to The Finals. Cleveland has issues, among them defense, maturity (Kyrie Irving and Dion Waiters) and chemistry (Kevin Love already complaining about scarcity of shots). Still, the have LeBron James, and that alone makes them a threat if Rose isn’t at peak efficiency.

SOLID PLAYOFF TEAMS: Atlanta Hawks, Toronto Raptors, Washington Wizards.

Atlanta got in last year, despite playing the bulk of the season without their best player (Al Horford). Toronto is north of the border, which is The Association equivalent of being on Neptune, but obscurity doesn’t mean they’re not a strong team. And Washington is a threat to win 50 games for the first time since 1978-1979.

FRINGE PLAYOFF TEAMS: Brooklyn Nets, Charlotte Hornets, Detroit Pistons, Indiana Pacers, Miami Heat, New York Knicks.

Brooklyn is old. I’d put Charlotte in the “solid playoff teams” category if I was sure how Lance Stephenson would affect that mix. Indiana lost their two best players, Miami saw the best player in the world abdicate, and New York is, well, New York.

NEXT YEAR. MAYBE: Boston Celtics, Milwaukee Bucks, Orlando Magic, Philadelphia 76ers.

This team will play hard, but that may not be enough. Best-case scenario is an injury-free season, somebody (Chris Copeland? Lavoy Allen?) delivering the unexpected, and every bounce going their way. If that happens, a lower playoff spot is not out of the question. Worst-case scenario is that an offense that was below average last year can’t recover from the absence of Stephenson and Paul George, and the defense – where the aforementioned two were huge assets – suffers a similar fate. In that case?

Well, then we’ll all need something to look forward to, and Paul George should be back 100% next season.

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Destination Unknown: 2014-15 Season Preview

I’m not a big fan of THE NATIONAL FOOTBALL LEAGUE!!, and with the rest of the country obsessed with the sport, I always feel sort of left out on Sundays. So, in an effort to connect with humanity, I’ve engaged a few friends in a friendly competition. We pick the winners each week, and while there’s no tangible reward for the winner, the competition itself has achieved the desired result, in that I’ve begun to take great interest in these games, just like everyone else.

But there has been a consequence to this newfound interest.

I’m becoming too emotionally involved. Last week, I did well enough that a St. Louis win over San Francisco Monday night would have put me over the top. As a result, I found myself perched in front of the television, screaming creative obscenities at the Rams that the late Sam Kinnison would definitely have approved of. This week, my goal was to mellow out, enjoy the games and my peripheral involvement, and maybe win the undying respect of my normally cynical cronies.

7:30 AM: I’m an early riser, so I’m up and getting some work done for Tuesday’s broadcast in Minneapolis. Coffee is on (French Press!), and while I hate the mind numbing drivel that ESPN delivers on a consistent basis, I’ve got it on in the background. I’ve become newly interested in what people I’ve never heard of think of this week’s games, and noting that my Detroit and Cincinnati picks are garnering less than an enthusiastic response, I’m already feeling stress.

1:00 PM: I’ve got Baltimore, Tennessee, Seattle, Cleveland, Cincinnati, Buffalo, Detroit, Green Bay, and Miami in the early games, and I’m already dismayed. The Official Pool Sheet shows Miami as a home team, but I just discovered that Chicago is the home team in that game. I picked Miami solely because I thought they were playing at home, and I felt badly when I did it because Chicago’s coach, Marc Trestman, and I went to the same high school. The day is already off to a bad start.

1:10 PM: Unlike most of you, I do not have the NFL Sunday Ticket. Or the  Red Zone Channel. So I have the Indianapolis-Cincinnati game available for viewing, and that’s it. Seems odd that following games on the Internet now feels obsolete.

1:10 PM: Aaron Rodgers throws a touchdown pass to give Green Bay an early 7-0 lead, and Baltimore jumps out to a 7-0 lead over Atlanta. MJB likes Aaron Rodgers.

1:19 PM: The Professional Football Team From Washington kicks a field goal. This is one of the reasons I question the existence of a higher power. If there really was a God, any team owned by Daniel Snyder would go 0-16 every season.

1:24 PM: C’mon, Rams!! You soiled yourselves last week when I needed you, now you’re up on Seattle? Where is that ineptitude you so expertly displayed against the 49ers Monday night?

1:40 PM: ESPN’s NFL Gamecast is a major fail. Every time I tap on a specific game, I have to endure a :30 commercial before it tells me what I need to know. I am going to try CBS Sportsline.

1:59 PM: 19 yards and no first downs and we’re in the second quarter, Cincinnati? Thanks for coming. Please head back east on I-74. Oh, and drive safely.

2:05 PM: Memo to the Seahawks. You trade your best player because he’s difficult, and now you’re down 21-3 to the Rams? The Rams?? Next time, even if your best player is a serial killer Monday through Saturday, please hang on to him. You’re killing me here.

2:39 PM: Halftime in Indianapolis. Any chance Andrew Luck could marry a Kardashian sister before the third quarter starts? I need his game to head south. Now.

2:44 PM: Doing laundry and expending more energy than the Cincinnati offense did in the first half.

4:13 PM: Early games over. Baltimore, Buffalo, Detroit, Green Bay, and Miami come through, while Tennessee, Seattle, Cleveland, and Cincinnati lay eggs. So I’m 5-4, but at least I got a load of laundry done.

6:00 PM: Halftime in the late games, all of which are too close to call. Starting to lose my enthusiasm for this week’s action – at 5-4, I’m winning nothing – I head out to get the car washed. On the way, I check in with some of the local broadcasts on Sirius/XM and am pleased to hear my old friend Greg Papa handling play-by-play for the Oakland Raiders. He sounds enthused and energetic, which can’t be easy when your team is as perennially bad as the Raiders are.

7:31 PM: Two of my three my late teams (Dallas and Arizona) come through, while San Diego does not, leaving me 7-5 with tonight and tomorrow to go. Now, I know that even 9-5 isn’t going to get it done. Still, I’ve managed to delude myself into thinking there’s hope, though that hope is roughly the same level of hope that a man stranded in the Sahara looking for water would hold.

12:04 AM: Denver pounds San Francisco, leaving me 8-5 with one game to play. So another week passes without success, and I just wasted 11 hours following a sport that others obsess over and, until now, I was indifferent to. On the bright side, I’ve achieved at least one of my goals, as I am no longer indifferent to professional football. No. I now hate THE NATIONAL FOOTBALL LEAGUE!! Oh….and I’ve discovered that I love picking games, even though it’s costing me my sanity every week.

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Destination Unknown: Maybe I Should Stick to Basketball

NBA teams play eight, or in some cases, seven pre-season games. I'm often asked for my take on pre-season play, and while I think there would be a consensus that there's no need to play that many practice games, a person's view on this might depend on who they are.

For example, if asked to come up with a list of things that are important this time of year, the following people might respond accordingly:

FRINGE PLAYER TRYING TO MAKE AN ASSOCIATION ROSTER

In other words, as the old idiom goes, “One man’s pain is another man’s pleasure”.

Pre-season games may not be as enthralling as regular season games, but I’d rather to seven or eight of them (or 2,313 of them) than be forced to go out and get a real job.