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John Wooden has been adequately recognized for his high school and college playing careers, and lavishly praised for his college coaching career. He's a legend in Indiana for the former, and a legend across America for the latter.

There's another segment of Wooden's basketball life, however, that is unknown to most fans and underappreciated by many of the remaining ones, yet it's one that is no less indicative of his talent and love for the game. He was a standout professional player, too, making it that much more appropriate that he'll be recognized when the Pacers play Milwaukee in the next Hickory Night game at Bankers Life Fieldhouse on Jan. 8.

Wooden, in fact, was Indiana's first professional basketball star, the centerpiece of the first pro team that lasted a significant length of time within the state. He was a part-time player performing a part-time job, but he was the primary reason the compensated version of the game took hold in a state that had caught on early to the hysteria it could inflict.

Wooden was the best high school player in Indiana at Martinsville, which played for the state championship all three of his varsity seasons and won it his junior year in 1927. He went on to become the first player to be named a first team consensus All-America all three of his varsity seasons at Purdue, where he set the Big Ten Conference's career scoring record and led the Boilermakers to a consensus voted-upon national championship as a senior in 1932.

The challenge of appreciating Wooden's playing career is posed by the lack of visual evidence. Purdue has a scrap of film that shows him dribbling the ball toward the camera in a non-game setting, but there's nothing of him actually playing. Newspaper articles, statistics and awards are all we have to reveal his talent.

It doesn't help that he played virtually all of his career in an era when a jump ball was conducted at center court after every made basket, limiting the scoring opportunities of the best players, and lessening the impact of their athleticism. Seasons were shorter, too, and a shot clock and 3-point line weren't yet a figment of anyone's imagination. He scored just 351 points in his three varsity seasons at Purdue, including a record 154 as a senior.

Still, Wooden is widely regarded as one of the greatest guards in the first half of the 20th Century. He was a member of the Naismith Basketball Hall of Fame's second induction class in 1960 as a player, four years before he won his first NCAA championship as UCLA's coach and 13 years before a second induction into the Hall as a coach. But while his playing reputation was based almost entirely on his collegiate career, he didn't stop playing upon graduation from Purdue. He was back in uniform the following winter as a member of the Indianapolis Kautskys.

Frank Kautsky, proprietor of a grocery store on South Madison Ave, owned and managed the team. He had begun sponsoring an amateur team the year before, which surprisingly to him won a state tournament at the end of the season, which left him flushed with enthusiasm for taking on bigger challenges in the fledgling world of professional basketball.

While at Purdue, Wooden set the Big Ten's career scoring record (Photo: Pacers)

His decision likely was based at least in part on his ability to woo Wooden. He had competition, however, as one would expect given Wooden's national status as a college player. Wooden led a team of former Purdue players in exhibition games against George Halas' Chicago Bruins professional basketball team in the Spring of his senior year at Purdue, and there was talk of playing for the Bruins the following season for $100 per game. The New York Celtics also offered him $5,000 per year to join their elite barnstorming team, at a time when some school teachers were earning less than $1,000 per year.

Wooden was tempted, but had been an honor student at Purdue, ranking 19th in his class of nearly 5,000 students. He had studied to become a teacher, and wanted to coach as well. His coach at Purdue, Ward Lambert, convinced him to follow up on those plans, rather than selling out for an uncertain pro basketball career that wouldn't allow him to utilize his education. He ultimately accepted a job at a high school in Dayton, Ky., for a starting salary of $1,500 per year.

That allowed him to play for the Kautskys on weekends, and when he was able to make the 115-mile drive to Indianapolis. His payment of $50 per game was more than he made per week at his day job, where he was athletic director, assistant football coach, head basketball, baseball and track coach, supervisor of the physical education department for grades 1-12 and, oh yeah, an English teacher.

Wooden had lost his life savings - $909.05 – when the banks collapsed under the weight of the Depression, so he was starting his financial life from scratch after he married his high school sweetheart, Nell in the summer of '32. He didn't have a car when he began his teaching career, so at first he caught a ride to the Kautskys' games with a friend, and paid him for his trouble. Wooden recalled receiving travel expenses on top of his per-game payment, and working on lesson plans in the car.

Every dollar he got from Kautsky was vital.

"We could really use that $50," he said in later years.

The Kautskys, who were members of the nearly-formed National Basketball League, played their first game on Thursday, Nov. 24, Thanksgiving evening, against the 66ers in Kokomo. The Kautskys won, 37-18. Wooden scored seven points and, according to Indianapolis newspaper accounts "played a good floor game." Kokomo was led by future Indiana University coach Branch McCracken with six.

The Kautskys didn't make their home debut until Sunday, Dec. 11. About 1,000 fans showed up at what was then called the National Guard Armory at 711 N. Pennsylvania, filling it to roughly one-third capacity to watch them defeat the Fort Wayne Firemen, 31-17. Seats sold for 40 cents on the portable bleachers and 25 cents in the balcony, although children under 10 were admitted for free. It was a humble return to action in his native state for Wooden, who probably found the competition less challenging than at Purdue. He scored 15 points, the only player to reach double figures, and "showed spectacular form in dribbling and scoring," according to one newspaper account.

Wooden took a teaching job at South Bend Central High School for the 1934-35 season, lured by a salary of $2,400. The drives to Indianapolis stretched to 150 miles, but the income was still meaningful, and he still enjoyed playing. It wasn't as fun or as organized as college basketball had been, but he was playing against some of the best players in the country, particularly when the Kautskys took on the touring "Negro" teams, such as the New York Rens and the Savoy Big Five out of Chicago.

It's difficult to compare Wooden's performance to others of the era because statistical averages were not kept in most of the seasons in which he played. Leagues came and went, and there were no all-star games or all-league teams to identify the elite players. The only evidence of his talent are box scores and minimal newspaper accounts of some of the games.

Wooden, for example, scored 19 points in a 62-40 victory in Toledo one night. The newspaper  account mentioned that his "speedy play bewildered the home team." He once scored 18 points in a 44-43 victory over the Big Five in a benefit game in Martinsville. Another time, he scored 14 of his team's 30 points against a team from Dayton.

Kautsky eventually paid him $100 per game, and once awarded him a bonus of $100 for hitting 100 consecutive free throws over the course of two seasons early in his career with the team. The streak, which ended at 134, reached 100 in a game in Indianapolis. According to Wooden's memory, Kautsky stopped the game and presented him with a $100 bill at midcourt. The newspaper accounts didn't record it, but Wooden was definite in his memory of it and Kautsky's children recalled it, too.

"It was in my hands for about one second before Nell took it from me," Wooden joked in later years. No wonder. That bonus exceeded two weeks of his salary.

Wooden barely got to experience a major change that would have enhanced his scoring ability. The jump ball rule was eliminated for the 1937-38 season, meaning the ball was taken out of bounds after made field goals and awarded to the other team, drastically increasing the pace of play. He switched teams that season, joining the Whiting Ciesars, a northern Indiana team named after owner Eddie Ciesar, an auto dealer. The long drives to play for the Kautskys were taking a toll on his body and work schedule, so he opted for convenience.

He led the Ciesars with 14 points in a victory over the Kautskys in December that season and went on to lead his new team to a 12-3 record by averaging 11 points, second in the league. He averaged 16.5 points in two playoff games, best in the league.

He didn't last long with the Ciesars, though. During semester break the following season, Wooden and teammate Bill Perigo drove through a snowstorm to get to a game in Pittsburgh that was to be the first of a three-game road trip. The travel conditions prevented them from arriving until halftime. The two led a comeback victory, but after the game Ciesar insisted on paying them only half of their game salary. Wooden held out, saying he and Perigo had risked life and limb to get to the game and wouldn't play in the next two unless they were paid the full amount, including travel expenses. Ciesar relented, but after returning to South Bend, Wooden quit the Ciesars and rejoined the Kautskys, who by now had dubbed themselves the "All-Americans."

Only briefly, however. He scored 13 points in a 44-33 victory over the Ciesars on Christmas Day in 1938, and followed the next night with 10 points in a 68-48 victory over the barnstorming New York Celtics before an estimated crowd of 4,000 at Butler Fieldhouse. He then scored 13 points in a 52-38 win over Sheboygan before 3,500 fans at Butler on Jan. 2, a game which propelled the team into first place in the re-formed NBL. He suffered a pulled muscle in the game, however. His name appeared in just two more box scores, scoring a free throw in one and a field goal in the other, and then disappeared.

Without fanfare, without even a mention in the newspapers, his professional playing career had ended. He was 28 years old at the time, and immersed in his teaching and coaching position in South Bend. The miles – on his legs and cars – were adding up, and were becoming a questionable sacrifice to make for a part-time gig. Two years earlier, Kautsky, in a newspaper column, had quoted Wooden as saying, "If I had known pro basketball is as tough as it is, Frank, I'd never have come into the game."

A new life in basketball was just beginning, however. He left his job in South Bend to join the Navy in 1943, then took a coaching and teaching position at Indiana State in 1946. Two years later he became the coach at UCLA, where he would win 10 national championships, including seven in a row, before retiring in 1975.

All in all, he was the best high school player of his era, the best college player of his era, and the best professional within the state boundaries. He also was a highly successful high school and college coach in Indiana before moving to California.

If Hickory has a face, it surely resembles Wooden.

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Wooden Was City's First Professional Star

Talk to any basketball player, no matter how far their careers took them, and they'll likely tell you their fondest memories are from high school.

That's when they were the most dominant, the pressure to perform wasn't as great, and the possibility of being traded or cut hadn't even entered their minds. School spirit ran high, media scrutiny ran low and fans weren't likely to be complaining about the crucial free throw they missed, or the fact they were outplayed by a future Naismith Hall of Famer.

The Indiana Basketball Hall of Fame in New Castle, which will be honored during halftime of the Pacers' Hickory Night celebration on Friday, is the depository for those more innocent moments, for fans and players alike. It's both a storage unit and a chapel, a place to house memorabilia and memories as well as a place to worship the great players, teams and games of a sport that for many is a religion in Indiana.

That's why it remains a special place and honor for George McGinnis, who received the ultimate basketball recognition in September for his induction into the Naismith Basketball Hall of Fame in Springfield, Mass. That's a worldwide honor, reserved for the elites of the sport, but the New Castle Hall remains just as great an honor for McGinnis because of his memories of leading Washington High School to an undefeated season and state championship in 1969.

"It was just as special as going in (the Naismith Hall)," McGinnis said of his high school hall induction in 1995. "It was really special.

"Winning the state championships was one of the greatest things that ever happened to me as a basketball player. I never thought about becoming a hall of famer for the Naismith Hall of Fame, even when I was playing (professionally). It just wasn't something that crossed my mind. But winning the state championship in high school, I was obsessed with it."

The Pacers, naturally, are well-represented in the Hall of Fame in New Castle. Any player good enough to play professionally was likely an outstanding high school player, and virtually every Indiana high school star who played for the Pacers and is eligible for the Hall has been inducted. The lone semi-exception is Wayne Pack, who played 21 games for the Pacers in the 1975-76 season, but got in as a member of Washington High School's undefeated 1969 state championship team, which was inducted en masse.

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In all, 17 men who either played or coached for the Pacers are in the Hall. They range alphabetically from Tom Abernethy, who played 29 games for the Pacers in the 1980-81 season, to Randy Wittman, who played four seasons for the Pacers and then became an assistant coach, launching his career as an NBA head coach.

The group includes three members who went on to achieve Naismith recognition: McGinnis, Larry Bird and Bob "Slick" Leonard.

Leonard was a latecomer to the Naismith honor, finally receiving induction in 2014. He was asked repeatedly if he was bothered by his omission from that hall of fame despite having coached the Pacers to three ABA championships, and always responded with the same thought: I'm a member of the Indiana Basketball Hall of Fame, and that's the one that means the most.

Billy Keller led Washington High School to the state championship in 1965, and earned Mr. Basketball honors from The Indianapolis Star as a result. He also quarterbacked Purdue into the championship game of the NCAA tournament in 1969, and was voted the first recipient of the Naismith Award, which goes to the best player in the country under 6-foot tall. He played seven seasons for the Pacers, and is one of just four players to have been a member of all three of their ABA championship teams.

Being in the high school hall was never a goal, but now that he's there, it keeps him connected to the game and the state's basketball tradition.

"The goal was to be the best you can be, to win, and to be doing what you love to do," said Keller, who was inducted in 1992. "And when it's all over, that's the time something like the hall of fame becomes more important.

"I think it means more to players the older you get. "You're finished playing, you're finished with all your athletics, and all you have now is your memories. Being in the hall of fame is the result of being a student of the game, loving the game, being coachable, having great fans around me, and having a supportive family … all of that.

"It means more to me now that it's over than when it happened."

1. The Indiana Basketball Hall of Fame was co-founded by legendary Indianapolis sportscaster Tom Carnegie in 1962, along with a prominent Lions Club official, Ray Johnson. It began as a feature of the Downtown Lions Club, then achieved standalone status in 1965. It moved to its current location in New Castle in 1990.

2. Although technically a hall of fame for people with direct links to Indiana high school basketball, its membership includes some exceptions who were inducted as recipients of the Silver Medal Award. Those include former Indiana Fever star Tamika Catchings, former Purdue University and Fever coach Lin Dunn, former Purdue coach Gene Keady and former Indiana University coach Bob Knight. Jerry Baker, the former radio and television voice of the Pacers who is now the public address announcer, also is a member.

3. Some of the New Castle hall of fame members achieved greater recognition for other endeavors. Lee Hamilton was an all-state player at Evansville Central High School, starred at DePauw, and went on to become a member of the United State Congress. Edwin Hubble coached New Albany to an undefeated season in 1913-14 and was a noteworthy player, and went on to become an even more noteworthy astronomer. The Hubble Telescope is named after him. Actor James Dean, while not a member of the hall of fame, played high school basketball for Fairmount High School.

4. More than 300,000 visitors have visited the hall in its 27 years in New Castle. Admission is $5 for adults, $4 for senior citizens and $3 for children 5-12. The pricing is meant to align with the cost of attending a high school basketball game. Those funds don't cover the hall's expenses, so it raises money from the doubleheader played each year in New Castle, an annual golf outing in the summer and personal and corporate contributions.

5. Permanent exhibits have been established for the hall's three most famous members. John Wooden, Oscar Robertson and Larry Bird, as well as for the 1954 Milan High School team.

6. Visitors can view a new film called "Only in Indiana" at the beginning of the tour. The 17-minute feature includes the likes of Bird, Robertson, McGinnis, Steve Alford, Damon Bailey, Bobby Plump, Judi Warren, Katie Douglas and Stephanie White telling their personal stories. The hall also includes an exhibit of 96 photographs of high school gymnasiums throughout Indiana, taken by Michael Keating and Chris Smith.

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At Indiana Basketball Hall of Fame, Pacers Connections Run Deep

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See the Hickory Uniforms Up Close

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Judi Warren's Basketball Career in Photos

They held bake sales, peddled candles and candy, did whatever they could to raise money, and yet they — or their parents — still had to pay some of the expenses of their cause. But then pioneers usually chart their own course, and this would be no different.

Judi Warren and her teammates from Warsaw High School won Indiana's first high school state tournament for girls' basketball in 1976. They traveled to the finals at Hinkle Fieldhouse in a camper. Yes, a camper, loaned by a local optometrist and driven by their coach. The girls all piled in, as cozy as could be, and headed off for Indianapolis, seat belts be damned in what promised to be a wild adventure. Only a stagecoach would have been more appropriate.

Their 57-52 victory over Bloomfield in the championship game is as relevant to Indiana's high school basketball heritage as Milan's championship in 1954 or the Attucks championships in 1955 and '56. Milan set the standard for the small, rural school taking on the bigger schools. Attucks set the standard for urban dominance, overcoming odds of its own as the first all-black school to win a state title. Two decades later, Warsaw established the template for future girls' champions.

Just as Milan had Bobby Plump and Attucks had Oscar Robertson, Warsaw had Judi Warren. She, too, was the perfect trailblazer, a charismatic and dedicated spokesperson for the cause of girls getting to play competitive basketball and be taken seriously as athletes. She became Indiana's first Miss Basketball, went on to play at Franklin College, and then coached at three high schools, always representing the ideals of the game.

Warren will be honored at the next Hickory Night, when the Pacers play Denver at Bankers Life Fieldhouse on Friday. It won't be the first time she's been recognized for her accomplishments at a Pacers' game — or at a Pacers' game against Denver, for that matter. One month after Warsaw won its state championship, the team was honored at a game against the Nuggets at Market Square Arena. Warren was brought onto the court as the "celebrity shooter" between periods.

It made her uncomfortable, but not for the obvious reason of having to step onto a court and shoot in street clothes.

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"I don't remember if I hit any or air-balled them," she says. "I just remember standing and seeing all those people.

"It's hard to take individual recognition for a team game."

That was the uncomfortable part, which remains the foundation of Warsaw's championship and Warren's career. They had star players like any other championship team, but also a special chemistry. Sophomore Chanda Kline, voted Miss Basketball two years after Warren, led the scoring in the championship game with 19 points, but it was Warren who stole headlines and hearts. Described in the Indianapolis Star's article as Kline's "tireless 5-1 running mate," Warren finished with 17 points and broke a deadlocked game with five free throws in the final minute of the final game.

It was more than her stats, though. Warren played the game with a boundless joy and enthusiasm that projected both innocence and a strong-willed determination to win. She even won the respect of veteran sportswriters. One might think that first girls' tournament would not have been treated as seriously as the boys' tournament, which dated back to 1911. But it was, at least in the Star. Other than one cutesy headline – "Sugar And Spice And Warsaw Was Nice" – the male staff writers heaped praise on the Warsaw girls, with no sniggering references to their sex or their talents.

Bob Collins, the Star's lead sports columnist, had been a champion of both the Milan and Attucks groundbreaking teams, and remained so for the Warsaw girls.

"It was good, exciting basketball," he wrote after their state championship victory. "Please note that I did not say good 'girls' basketball."

Collins and other media members found the girls' attitude toward the game to be refreshing. They — the girls, not the media — led their fans in "We're No. 1" cheers during timeouts, hugged and waved to fans during quarter breaks, and applauded a cheerleader for executing a flip.

"No one was trying to be cool or sophisticated," the Star's lead news-side columnist, Thomas Keating, wrote. "Instead, they just smiled and laughed and played the game with an exuberance and enjoyment not seen in a long time."

Warren, who contributed 31 points and 19 assists in the two "final four" games of the tournament, was the prototype of that approach, with her charisma and hustle. Keating pointed out that as she stood at the foul line with 20 seconds left in the championship game, she "grabbed her hair in both hands and shook it like … well, like a girl overwhelmed by where she was."

She should have been. Growing up, she couldn't have dreamed of playing for a state championship in front of 9,100 people at Hinkle Fieldhouse. The crowds for Warsaw's games had gradually increased from the regular season through the early rounds of the tournament, but the reality of what awaited them in Indianapolis was beyond comprehension — after all, there was no precedent.

"It was just like the movie (Hoosiers)" Warren recalls. "You walk in there and it's like 'Wow, this place is massive!' Then to walk out on the floor and see all those people in the stands and all those people from Warsaw waving the orange hankies, it was amazing.

"But once the game starts, it's the game. You're so focused, you don't recognize that."

Warren, who retired from teaching four years ago, and from coaching 17 years ago, had no inspiration other than her love of playing the game while growing up in Claypool, eight miles south of Warsaw. She had a brother, eight years older, who played with his friends on the goal attached to the garage in their side yard. She watched them, and chased after the ball if it rolled away. When their games were finished they might show her a thing or two, but mostly she played by herself when the court was empty.

Throw the ball off the chimney, fake out the bush, drive and shoot. That kind of thing.

She had no great women's players to emulate, at least none she could watch on television, and there was no girls' program at school other than intramurals. She went to the boys' games, like nearly everyone else in town, and that certainly left an impression, but attendance for the girls' games was limited to friends and family.

Warsaw, though, was advanced for the time, offering an intramural program for the girls as early as the third grade and games against other schools in junior high and high school as part of the Girls Athletic Association program. But then, in a stroke of fortunate timing for Warren and other girls of the Class of '76, the Indiana High School Athletic Association made girls basketball a varsity sport before her senior season.

That, however, presented a sudden budgeting headache for athletic directors, who had to find funding for another program that hadn't produced revenue.  At Warsaw, the school paid for their uniforms, bus rides to away games and whatever was required to host a home game, but Ike Tallman, Warsaw's athletic director and boys' coach, wouldn't or couldn't provide money for anything else. So, the girls ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on the way to their road games, and raised their own money for any "luxuries." Such as their shoes. Their warmups were on loan from the boys' track team.

They also had to wait until after the freshman and varsity boys' teams finished practice to use the gymnasium. That 7-9 p.m. time slot was a major inconvenience for some of the girls who lived far from school. Warren, for one, watched the boys' varsity practice, then walked across the street to get something to eat at the dairy bar, then returned for practice. By the time she got home, it was time for bed.

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She and a teammate met with Tallman to lobby for a share of the desirable practice times. He told them the boys' program paid the bills, and until the girls could draw enough fans to be self-sufficient, they would have to settle for scraps.

The state championship changed that. The Warsaw girls arrived home about midnight after winning the state championship. As they neared town on Highway 15, cars were lined up along the roadside, some with kids standing on top of them, most with their horns honking madly. Everyone gathered for a pep rally at the gymnasium, with many of the younger kids wearing pajamas.

When Tallman stepped to the microphone to congratulate the team, he pointed out the girls had finally packed the gymnasium and it was time to sit down and talk about giving them more equal treatment. The following year, the girls' team was given the prime practice time slot immediately after school ended two days a week.

"That probably meant as much to us as winning the state tournament," Warren says. "It was something that would make a difference for the next teams."

With more resources and exposure, the girls' game has grown exponentially since Warsaw won the first state championship. Girls already had been motivated to play basketball, but the enthusiasm Warren and her teammates generated kicked it into a higher gear. As a player at Franklin and then a coach, she has been able to witness every step of the progress.

"We weren't very good," she says. "I go back and watch that game film and say, "What kind of defense was that?

"You look at this year's tournament, they're all so talented. It used to be you had three or four really good players and then it dropped off pretty quickly. Now they put subs in and they don't give up a whole lot. Just the strength and physical-ness of it … They still need to work more on block-outs and passing --  passing is a lost art -- but the shooting technique and ballhandling … it's impressive to watch them play."

It all had to start somewhere, though. Warsaw was as good a place as any. And Warren was the perfect player to lead the journey.

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As Indiana's First Miss Basketball, Judi Warren Blazed a Trail Still Visible Today

The tournament seeped into their DNA early, a shimmering light and joyful noise that at once seemed an unreachable mirage and close enough to touch. It beckoned them forward, inspiring the first steps of a journey that became their profession.

Bill Keller and George McGinnis had parallel basketball careers in many respects. They led their Washington High School teams to the state championship in their respective senior seasons. They were voted Mr. Basketball, symbolic of being the best player in the state, and the passing years would confirm that opinion. They had standout college careers at Purdue and Indiana respectively, earning individual national recognition, and then joined forces on Pacers teams that won ABA championships.

They're also in lockstep in the opinion that winning the state high school tournament was a highlight never to be exceeded. Keller did it in 1965, leading the Continentals to a 29-2 record. McGinnis did it in 1969, leading one of the greatest high school teams in the state's history to a 31-0 record. Now that sufficient time has passed to bring their basketball careers into perspective, the light and noise have not dimmed.

Keller and McGinnis will headline the next Hickory Night celebration at Bankers Life Fieldhouse on Friday when the Pacers play Sacramento and Washington's championship teams are honored. Several of their teammates will be on hand as well, players who were essential to the championships, many of whom had distinguished careers of their own.

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Keller was joined in the starting lineup by Ralph Taylor, who also played at Purdue; Marvin Winkler, who played 20 games for the Pacers in the 1971-72 season; Trester Award winner Eddie Bopp; and Bill Rogers, who went on to play for Vincennes University. McGinnis' teammates included Steve Downing, who became an All-American center at IU and a first-round draft pick of the Celtics in '73; Wayne Pack, who played 21 games for the Pacers in the 1974-75 season; Louie Day, who attended IU on a football scholarship, and Jim Arnold, who also played collegiately.

Keller will fly up from his winter home in Florida and McGinnis will drive in from his home in Indianapolis, but they would go to just about any length to relive the memories with their teammates.

"There was nothing like it," McGinnis said. "There was an innocence to it. It was something I grew up with that was ingrained in all of us. It was something we dreamed about, being able to play on TV one day. That was the biggest thing in the world at that time."

Keller would agree. For both, the high school championship represented the culmination of a childhood dream.

Keller grew up watching the tournament on television, and then, around fifth grade, began attending it with his father back when the finals were a one-day event that filled Butler's fieldhouse.

"He dangled that carrot in front of me, and it was something I wanted to be involved in," Keller said. "I dreamed about it. I'd often go out and play by myself, and I'd put myself at the free throw line with a chance to win the state tournament. And whether you made the shot or missed, you'd laugh about it. You'd do that over and over.

"There wasn't a day that went by as a kid that I didn't put myself in the state finals. Especially at the free throw line. I had put myself in a situation to play in the state finals and maybe win the state finals with a free throw."

As a sophomore and junior, Keller was one of the varsity letter winners from city schools entrusted with working the final four games as an usher. One of the duties was to hold the ropes after the game to keep fans from running onto the court and join the celebration. That required sitting on the edge of the court halfway through the final quarter, to be in position when the game ended. From there, his dream played out in front of him in living color, just a few yards away.

He watched Muncie Central and its future Mr. Basketball, Rick Jones, win in 1963, then watched Lafayette Jeff and its future Mr. Basketball, Denny Brady, win in '64. From those experiences, along with the childhood fantasies he had conjured in his solitary hours with a ball and basket, it all felt familiar when he got his chance to play in the game '65.

"The first time I went to the line in the state finals, I had been there many, many times – in my mind," he said. "I wasn't really nervous going to the free throw line, because I had been there."

Keller led all scorers with 25 points in the championship game, but the singular moment that remains clearest in his mind today is, of all things, a missed foul shot. He had hit all 31 of his free throws during the tournament, beginning with the sectional, and had a chance to extend the streak when he was fouled with 11 seconds remaining. Washington's victory was assured, his teammates had vacated their places along the foul lane to defend Fort Wayne North's basket, and celebrations were breaking out all around him. Distracted by all the commotion, he missed the first foul shot, breaking his streak. He hit the second to finish 32-of-33 from the foul line for the tournament.

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"I wasn't focused and I missed it," he said. "When you ask me today what memory comes to mind, that's the first thing. That's a memory that lingers. It could have been 33 out of 33."

Keller went on to play at Purdue, where he was a three-year starter and point guard for the 1969 team that reached the championship game of the NCAA tournament. The Boilermakers, in fact, defeated North Carolina in a semifinal game of the Final Four on the same Saturday that McGinnis and the rest of the Continentals won the state championship. Keller also was the inaugural winner of the Frances Pomeroy Naismith award, given to the nation's best player 6-foot or shorter.

Keller then played seven seasons for the Pacers, becoming one of four players to be part of all three championship teams, in 1970, '72 and '73. McGinnis joined the team for the 1971-72 season after earning third-team All-American honors as a sophomore at IU. He was a starter by the end of his rookie season, and a star the following season, when he was voted the '73 ABA finals MVP after starring in the Game 7 victory over Kentucky in Louisville. He would go on to be voted co-MVP of the ABA with Julius Erving in 1975 and become a three-time NBA All-Star.

Like Keller, however, nothing surpassed the thrill of his high school championship. His Washington team was one for the ages, an undefeated team that dominated nearly every game it played. Only one opponent came within single-digits of the Continentals during the regular season. Shortridge did it twice, but lost by 22 points in the championship game of the city tournament.

Also like Keller, McGinnis was primed for his first championship by all he saw and heard while growing up in Indianapolis. His first impression came from being five years old and watching the Oscar Robertson-led Attucks team win the title in 1956 with his father.

Attucks' overachieving 1959 championship team excited him even more, because he was old enough to understand better, and the feeling never left him. When he was a freshman at Washington, he rode up with a few sophomores with driver's licenses just to marvel at the "Home of Rick Mount" sign near the exit to Lebanon. The next two years, in a scene fit for "Hoosiers," he and teammates Steve Downing and Jim Arnold sat in a car outside the fieldhouse during final four games and listened to them on the radio, imagining themselves playing in the game and helping with the broadcaster's call of the game. When the action heated up, they could hear the muffled noise seeping through the fieldhouse bricks, an invitation to their future.

"It was so cool," McGinnis recalled, "listening to that game and hearing that roar."

Washington was favored by many to win the title McGinnis' junior year. Downing had grown from a 5-10 freshman to a 6-9 junior, and was finding his legs. McGinnis, even as an underclassman, was the best player in the state. The Continentals, though, lost by 12 points in the championship game of the Regional to city rival Shortridge, which advanced to the final game before losing to Gary Roosevelt.

Bill Green took over as head coach for McGinnis' senior season, replacing Jerry Oliver, who left to take an assistant coaching position at IU – and begin working to lure McGinnis and Downing there. Green was famous for his matchup zone defense, but he was a savvy motivator, too, according to McGinnis.

"At the beginning of the season he said, 'Look, guys, we're going to win them all. And I want you to think about this. Every game we win, Friday night and Saturday night, I'm taking you to White Castle and you're getting 10 hamburgers apiece."

Green kept his promise. At the time, for a bunch of high school kids from blue collar families, it was a highlight never to be forgotten.

Green also saw something in a kid who had been cut three times by Oliver. Wayne Pack excelled on the local playgrounds, but Oliver considered him too undisciplined. Green, though, kept him. Pack was so excited about getting his first pair of Converse All-Stars that he took them home, put them on his dresser and stayed up all night staring at them.

He was more excited to become an integral part of Washington's team. He became a starter shortly after the season began, and scored 13 points in the championship game victory.

"Wayne Pack was, by far, the most interesting story on our team," McGinnis said. "I tell kids all the time, take advantage of playing basketball, don't let basketball take advantage of you."

Pack did that, becoming the first member of his family to go to college. He played at Tennessee Tech, sat out a year after his college career ended, then caught on with the Pacers for 21 games. He was the fourth guard among four, but had a couple of double-figure games when he got playing time in blowouts. He was nicknamed Six-Pack, and given jersey No. 6 to go with it.

If not for his persistence and Green's faith in him, he likely would have wound up working in a factory or joining the military. College simply wasn't an option given his parents' blue-collar salaries without a scholarship of some sort. After Pack's playing career ended, armed with a college degree and local status as a former Pacers player, he began a path toward a career as an executive in Human Resources.

As McGinnis likes to point out, for many years Pack was the only person in the history of Indiana high school basketball who never lost a game and won a state championship. His one and only season had been perfect.

The two Washington championship teams were just four years apart and most of the players lived within walking distance of the school, so there's some crossover between the two groups. Taylor from the '65 team, for example, lived just down the street from McGinnis, who remembers watching him walking home after school with a backpack full of books.

Combined, these two teams account not only for two Mr. Basketballs and two popular Pacers, but for two other players with brief Pacer careers, a future first-round draft pick of the Boston Celtics, a future Pacers' assistant coach (Oliver), and the coach with more state tournament championships than any in the state's history (Green, who won five more at Marion).

All of them would agree, nothing they went on to do in life surpassed those state titles at Butler. That's true even for Keller, who won three with the Pacers, and nearly another with Purdue.

"The high school state championship was the most memorable for me, because it was the first," he said. "It was the one you dreamed about, the one you worked towards. My work for the high school championships started when I was in the fourth grade.

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For Keller and McGinnis, Memories of Winning State Never Faded

Trailing 60-59, the undefeated Indianapolis Washington Continentals, led by George McGinnis and coached by legendary Indiana high school coach Bill Green, found their dream season in serious jeopardy.

In front of a deafening crowd at Hinkle Fieldhouse, Indianapolis Washington was trailing Marion by one point, but had the ball with a chance to take a lead.

First, on offense, McGinnis was whistled for a double dribble at the top of the key, giving possession back to Marion. Then, on defense, McGinnis faltered again, getting called for a foul while attempting to press his man.

The pair of missteps ended up not costing the Continentals any points, as the Giants were unable to capitalize on the turnover.

But in the final minute of play, with the clock winding down, Louie Day received a pass on the wing that slipped his grasp. The ball tumbled towards the sideline with the team's undefeated season hanging in the balance.

Day chased it down, and planted both feet inches from the out-of-bounds line, but his momentum was carrying him out of the field of play.

Frantically searching for a teammate, Day heaved a pass towards the half court as he fell backwards. Marion's Jerry Townsend jumped through the air to try to make the interception, but was unable to haul it in, instead tipping it out of bounds.

With new life, the Continentals tried yet another shot to take the lead, as Jim Arnold hoisted a jumper from the wing.

The shot hit iron and skied into the air, where Steve Downing — who would later win an NBA title with the Boston Celtics — rose up above the defense to snare the offensive rebound and force a jump ball.

Downing won the jump ball, followed by a quick timeout to draw up the final play.

When they resumed play, the Continentals wasted no time getting the ball to Downing, who backed down his man in the post before making a difficult spinning jump shot from the baseline.

The score gave the Continentals a 61-60 lead, and on Marion's final possession, Downing got a piece of the shot and McGinnis secured the rebound.

The ball was quickly passed to Wayne Pack, who sprinted out in the open floor and was fouled with barely any time left on the clock.

Although Pack missed both the free throws, the clock expired as Indianapolis Washington was able to salvage its perfect season despite a series of errors down the stretch.

Thanks to the IHSAA, you can watch the final frantic moments, as well as the entire title game, which was also a close affair for the Continentals.

In their finals matchup, which happened on the same day as the semi-final, the Continentals topped Gary Tolleston high school 79-76, completing their perfect season and winning the second state title for the school in a five-year span.

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The 1969 Indpls. Washington Continentals Nearly Had it Slip Away

What if in 1990, the day after Bedford North Lawrence won the state high school basketball championship at the RCA Dome before 41,000 people and a national television audience, someone had asked you to predict what Damon Bailey would be doing 26 years later.

Would you have thought he'd be a former NBA star? A Naismith Hall of Famer? Head coach at Indiana University? Mayor of Bedford? Governor of the state of Indiana?

Each of those guesses would have seemed more believable than what has turned out to be the truth: assistant women's basketball coach at Butler University.

It might not be what anyone expected, Bailey included, but the point of this story, and his story, is that it's all good. He's there by choice, helping coach a team that includes his oldest daughter, but open to the idea of staying beyond her career and proving his heart is in the soul of basketball rather than personal wealth or prestige.

Bailey will be honored at the Pacers' game against Boston at Bankers Life Fieldhouse on Thursday in the next Hickory Night celebration, honoring Indiana's basketball heritage. It would require a lot of head-scratching to come up with someone who represents that heritage better than he does.

He was a high school star – make that sensation – who led his team to the state championship, set a state career scoring record and earned Mr. Basketball honors. He was declared by some the national Player of the Year, and received more national acclaim rivaled only by Sports Illustrated cover boy Rick Mount in 1966. He went on to become the Big Ten Freshman of the Year at Indiana University and earned first-team all-Big Ten and third-team all-American recognition as a senior, contributing to hugely successful teams along the way. He was drafted by the Pacers and spent a season on their injured list, then played for Fort Wayne's entry in the CBA. He coached the Bedford boys' and girls' teams, winning a state championship with the girls, and now helps with Butler's women's team.

From the perspective of a middle-aged man – he turned 45 in October – he can look back on his unique career with pride and few regrets. But his most impressive accomplishment could very well be his sanity. While everyone around him seemed to lose theirs during his high school and college careers, he has remained grounded, never straying far from reality.

Bailey was more than a standout player. Many older fans viewed him as a relic from a time gone by, a clean-cut, humble small town kid straight out of a Disney movie. He still receives autograph requests in the mail, still gets photos of newborn babies who have been named after him, still gets heartfelt letters from elderly people telling him how much they enjoyed watching him play. He still gets recognized by strangers on airplanes, too, which provides trash-talking ammunition for the Butler players.

He appreciates the interest, but steadfastly avoids most opportunities for recognition. If you want to know the truth, he had to be cajoled into participating in Thursday's Hickory celebration, and agreed to it only out of respect for the fans who have been so devoted all these years.

"Those things are burdensome at times, but it's like everything else in life, there's good and bad in having that notoriety," he said.

Such notoriety it was, too. Bailey became a national sports figure in the eighth grade, when IU coach Bob Knight's adoration for him was revealed in a best-selling book, 'A Season on the Brink.' He was a marked man after that, forced to live with more celebrity than would be healthy for any high school kid, or adult for that matter. His parents and high school coach helped him deal with it, though, and he managed to live up to the hype throughout high school. He led Bedford North Lawrence to the final four of the state tournament three of his four seasons as a starter and then carried them to the championship as a senior in the single-class tournament days. He scored the final 11 points of that game, then ran into the stands to hug his parents, writing the perfect ending to what seemed a fictional story.

He was the sole reason that game was played at a domed stadium to accommodate the fan interest, and the sole reason it was televised nationally on ESPN, but he would have been just fine without all of that. The hype and hyper-attention meant nothing to him.

"It was what it was," he said. "I played the game because I loved it.

"(Fame) just happened for me at such a young age that it was my life. I don't know anything different. I wasn't a player who all of a sudden as a senior started getting recognition. I just grew up that way. It was just everyday life to me."

He's grateful for one thing, though. Imagine if he had to go through all that in today's social media environment, where every move, every reaction, every success and failure would be dissected by friend and foe alike.

"I would have hated to be playing in that world," he said.

It now seems apparent Bailey matured faster than most boys, physically and emotionally. As an eighth grader, he played like a high school kid. As a high school player, he played like a college kid. But by the time he was finished with his college career, he was no longer the best athlete on the court. He got by on skill and savvy, and despite two knees in need of surgery.

TICKETS: See Bailey Honored on Thursday »

Adjusting from an off-guard role to point guard made the transition to an NBA career that much more difficult, a matter of being in the right place at the right time at best. The Pacers seemed like the right place at the time, though. Bailey's popularity was such that 4,538 fans attended a July intrasquad scrimmage between draft picks and free agent hopefuls at Market Square Arena after the Pacers made him the 44th overall selection. He wound up having surgery on both knees, and spent the following season on the injured list while rehabbing them.

He was released in training camp in 1995 after failing to beat out Mark Jackson, Travis Best and Haywoode Workman for one of the point guard openings. He had averaged 5.5 points in six preseason games, hitting 11-of-21 field goals and all 10 foul shots. It's hardly unusual to release a player after that type of pre-season production, but Bailey was not the usual roster candidate. His release was big news, and somewhat controversial among fans.

"I was in a hotbed of basketball in North Carolina where they kind of revere high school and college players," Pacers coach Larry Brown said at the time. "But I've never seen anything like this with him."

It was at that moment Bailey proved his love for the game, however. Some players accustomed to stardom would have retired right there, and found a new career or gone back home to live off their name. He went to Fort Wayne to play for the Fury of the Continental Basketball Association. He stayed four seasons, earning first-team all-CBA honors in 1998 and a second-team selection in '99, but couldn't break into the NBA. A brief tryout with Cleveland was as close as he got after the Pacers released him.

He played on the U.S. Pan American Games silver medal-winning team in 1999, averaging 10 points per game, and was planning to go back to the CBA for another season before another knee injury led him into retirement from playing. At that point there was no point in trying to keep the dream alive. He's now had seven knee surgeries since college; nobody can say he didn't give the game his best shot.

Although he never played for the Pacers, the benefit of his time with them were great and varied. He got both knees fixed, at their expense, and his two-year guaranteed contract paid him a total of $375,000. He also observed nearly every practice and game throughout the 1994-95 season, including when Reggie Miller's eight-points-in-8.9 seconds spree in Madison Square Garden nearly carried the Pacers to the NBA Finals.

He had once been the 10-year-old boy who thought he was going to play in the NBA and make a million dollars. It didn't work out for him, but he got a lot closer to it than most, and he learned from the likes of Brown, Miller, Jackson, Byron Scott and others.

"The one thing that surprised me about that level -- because I always considered myself a smart player --  was the level they see the game," he said. "I mean, Reggie is a great talent, but just the mental side of the game was really what opened my eyes. I learned a lot of the nuances at that level.

So, too, is coaching, where the purity of Bailey's devotion to basketball still shines through. He's been a co-owner and active participant in the Hawkins Bailey Warehouse, a Bedford-based supplier of heavy duty maintenance products in central and southern Indiana since 1994. He's always made time for coaching, however, whether it's in camps, for AAU teams, at Bedford North Lawrence or Butler. His oldest daughter, Alexa, is a sophomore and starting point guard. Another daughter, Loren, is a freshman at Butler, who gave up the game after high school. His son, Brayton, is a promising freshman player at BNL.

If it's not what Bailey expected to be doing all those years ago, it is what he loves. He did all he could to dissuade his daughters from playing, partly because he didn't want them to face the pressure of being Damon Bailey's daughter.

Since retiring, Bailey has found enjoyment in the women's game, where his players seem less focused on going pro and more devoted to playing by the ideals of basketball. Even better, he gets to coach it at a college that clings to those same ideals.

"Butler is still to me what Indiana basketball is about," said Bailey, who stays in an on-campus residence two or three nights a week during the season, but makes the 90-minute commute to Bedford on the other days. "Basketball today has gotten so commercialized. It's about the film room and the locker room and the training room. You have to do that to compete for today's athlete, but still the mentality that's here is more what I grew up with."

Bailey doesn't live in the past, though. Other than an occasional game of H-O-R-S-E with his players, he doesn't compete any longer. Don't look for him in the "noon ball" games at Butler. He doesn't recall ever going back to watch a recording of his state championship game, either. He's not that interested, and he tries to discourage his kids from watching it, too.

"I don't like them to, because everything I yell at them about not doing, they point out that I didn't do it either," he said, laughing.

Those kids can't criticize his record, though. He won that state championship at Bedford, he was a starter on two Big Ten championship teams and a Final Four team at IU. He's been an assistant to Kurt Godlevske on one state championship team in Bedford, and the head coach of another.

Now he's at Butler, once again assisting Godlevske and trying to contribute to the dreams of younger players who probably can't appreciate how he so deftly traversed the thickets of fame, and why he's so content despite never fulfilling his own dream.

"For me, it was always about winning," Bailey said. "There were times I was asked to score, and there were times I didn't feel I was the best option for us. At the end of the day if you're involved in a successful team, that's nothing they can take away from you."