Doyel: If loathing Paul George is wrong, I don’t wanna be right

Gregg Doyel
IndyStar
Oklahoma City Thunder forward Paul George (13) fouls Indiana Pacers forward Thaddeus Young (21) in the second half of their game at Bankers Life Fieldhouse Wednesday, Dec 13, 2017. The Oklahoma City Thunder defeated the Indiana Pacers 100-95.

INDIANAPOLIS – Halftime of a terrible game for Paul George. Ultimately it will be a triumphant return to Bankers Life Fieldhouse for George, his Oklahoma City Thunder beating the Indiana Pacers 100-95 on Wednesday night, but for one half – indeed, for most of the game – PG can’t hit a shot, can’t throw a pass, can’t do anything right. And the crowd seems to hate him. Boooooo, they yelled when he was introduced as a starter. Boooooo, they yelled every time he touched the ball. Every single time. All night. Boooooo.

But, halftime.

The Thunder are on the court warming up for the second half, every player and even every coach – every member of the team but one. Paul George is the last one out of the Thunder locker room. What’s he doing in there? No idea, but the timing of life is weird, and here’s what happens next:

A father and son are walking past the tunnel that leads to the Thunder locker room. The son is wearing a gold Paul George T-shirt, the kind everyone around town used to wear when PG was one of us. Nobody wears those shirts anymore, nobody but the children. At this very moment, Paul George emerges from the locker room. He walks down the tunnel. He is heading for the court.

He sees the boy in the gold PG shirt.

Paul stops. He gives the kid a fist to pound. The boy pounds it and screams in glee: "PG!!!!!"

The father is smiling. His name is J.J. Nelson. He lives in Fishers. His son’s name is Caden. I’m getting this information when Caden comes running up to his dad, Caden with his buddy Adam Hoog. Adam also is wearing a gold PG shirt, and also got a fist bump from PG himself.

“Paul loved us!” is what Caden yells at his dad, and now J.J. Nelson is beaming. His son is 9. Paul George just gave his kid a moment he’ll never forget.

And here’s where I’m thinking: Kids are the best.

For the last two quarters I’ve been tweeting gleefully about Paul’s rough return to Indianapolis, a city and franchise he left in the lurch by forcing a trade and then allowing his agent to undermine the Pacers’ leverage by telling teams his client wants to play for the Los Angeles Lakers. Every time PG misses a shot, I update his stats on Twitter. Nobody is asking for it. It’s my pleasure.

PG is 0-for-4 now.

He’s 1-for-7.

That’s three turnovers for Paul George.

His plus-minus is minus-11.

That was Paul’s first half. Those were my tweets, and that was the reaction of the crowd as well. We – all of us – came here to hate the guy. That’s me being honest. And a little embarrassed. But we were here to hate him, and he played poorly and, to be clear, he played in the same dislikable way he played way too many times when he was with the Pacers.

Paul was called for three fouls. He pouted after every one of them, flailing his arms, always the victim. He had the ball stolen from him once, simply taken from him by Bojan Bogdanovic – and instead of running to play defense, he whined to the referee. By the time he decided to play defense, Darren Collison was scoring at the other end.

Oh, he does some crap. He always does some crap. The infuriating thing about Paul George is that he is so smooth and explosive, so beautiful to watch when he’s turning basketball into ballet, but so self-centered. A man that tall shouldn’t move like a wisp of wind, but he does and it’s a sight to see.

But he does crap like this late in the first half, when he drove into the lane and rose for a shot and had the ball swiped from his hands. As he tried to regain control of the ball, he bobbled it out of bounds. Turnover, Paul George, and the crowd was loving it. But Paul was hating it, raising his arms at the referee in disgust and keeping them in the air as he finally started heading back for defense, keeping them upraised until he crossed halfcourt. The crowd was watching, and the crowd was hating.

Boooooo, they were yelling.

Paul pouts, I was tweeting.

And then halftime happens, and those 9-year-old boys from Fishers, Caden Nelson and Adam Hoog, poked me with a sharp pin and let my ugliness seep out. For seven years this city, and this franchise, gave Paul George every single thing he ever wanted – every contract, every cheer, every headline, every ounce of adulation – but when it was time to leave Paul left selfishly, completely on his terms. And his terms could have, even should have, gutted the Pacers. As it turns out, Pacers President Kevin Pritchard made a savvy trade with the Thunder, getting nice young players Victor Oladipo on the rise to stardom and Domantas Sabonis emerging from his rookie cocoon like a beautiful, double-double-getting Lithuanian butterfly. So to speak.

Late in the game, final seconds, game over basically. Pacers trail 100-95, but have the ball with 10.7 seconds left. Oladipo is under the basket, waiting to make his move. George is defending him. George is speaking into his ear. Oladipo isn’t reacting. George speaks more. Oladipo doesn’t react. George starts talking again, and now Oladipo spits out a single word – no, it was two words – and cuts for the ball. But the inbounds pass is stolen, and the Thunder run out the final 10 seconds.

Despite scoring 12 points on 3-for-14 shooting, Paul George has just won in his first game back in an arena that sounded united in its hatred for him, all but the children in the Paul George shirts. When the game ends Paul seeks out Oladipo for a hug. Now Myles Turner for another hug.

Now Paul George is standing at midcourt, victorious and alone, bending down to untie his shoes. Now he’s taking them off. In his socks he walks to the sideline, where two little kids are staring at him. They are former Pacers teammate Monta Ellis’ sons, and Paul walks toward them. He hands each kid a shoe. They are squealing.

Now Paul George is walking off the court, and I’m liking him. And feeling ashamed.

But then Paul George, bless him, saves me by being himself. He meets the media, handling it with polish and humility, until the very end. He is asked about denying Oladipo the ball late in the game.

“Vic is their guy here, right? Right?” PG asks rhetorically. “Don’t let him get the ball. Simple. Ball game.”

He pounds the table and walks out.

Never change, Paul George. Because it’s so fun to despise you.

Find IndyStar columnist Gregg Doyel on Twitter: @GreggDoyelStar or at facebook.com/gregg.doyel.