Indiana's D has been better than OKC's historically great unit

Can that be true for one more game?

Oklahoma City’s defense entered the Finals with a resume the size of a phone book.

A historically excellent defensive rating (relative to era). All-Defensive votes for every qualifying starter. Arguably the league’s best defensive player coming off the bench to replace an All-Defensive First-Teamer. Records for steals and deflections. All of it has carried over through the playoffs and into the Finals.

And yet? Indiana’s relatively unheralded defense hasn’t merely held its own. The Pacers’ D has been even better than its legendary peer. In the Finals, the Pacers have a 110.9 defensive rating; the Thunder, 112.2.

Here’s where I should remind people that Indiana — not OKC — had the best defense in the league against top-10 teams in the calendar year 2025 (and fourth-best against top-10 offenses). This isn’t a fluke. The Pacers have consistently leveled up with their competition.

There are some funhouse similarities between the Finals’ two defensive units. Both excel at attacking the ball. Every back-to-the-basket dribble chums the water for constantly circling ball-sharks:

Both teams thrive on physicality. Dermatologists around the country have had to prescribe cortisone to opposing ballhandlers after they face Andrew Nembhard, Aaron Nesmith, Lu Dort, and Alex Caruso. And both units love to apply pressure way up the court.

But the Pacers have plenty of their own quirks. For one, they have TJ McConnell and his abstract-art backcourt steals popping up to turn the tide at a moment’s notice. You’d think the Thunder would have remembered his dark magicks after McConnell’s five steals in Game 3; you’d be wrong:

Indiana is also the only defense on Earth that has to survive employing Obi Toppin (who has more than made up for his deficiencies with his play on offense, including a team-high 20 points in Game 6; I hereby renounce future digs at Toppin unless he really, really deserves them). And unlike OKC, Indiana prefers to stick more tightly to their marks on the perimeter, giving up far fewer threes than their counterparts while hoping Myles Turner (allowing just 56.8% shooting while defending a series-high 37 attempts at the rim) and Pascal Siakam can clean up any messes.

A surprising twist: This group has turned Shai Gilgeous-Alexander, one of the league’s greatest turnover-reducers, into someone positively charitable with the ball — a real-life Scrooge story. He turned it over six or more times just thrice in 76 regular-season games; he’s done it twice in six Finals matches.

Regardless of how it all ends, one of my enduring memories from this awesome series will be Nembhard sprinting after SGA all over the court. He’s honed in on the MVP like a Mario Kart blue shell, bouncing off of picks to rush Gilgeous-Alexander into tough shots and bad decisions:

SGA has had a solid series overall. But Nembhard’s relentlessness means the Pacers haven’t had to completely sell out to limit him, allowing them to stay attentive to the Thunder’s other threats and turn off OKC’s three-point water. Barely a quarter of Oklahoma’s shots have been triples, and their field-goal share from beyond the arc would have ranked dead last in the regular season by a mile.

The Pacers’ refusal to overhelp is also a part of why OKC is averaging 50 fewer passes per game than they did in the regular season. More passing doesn’t necessarily mean better offense, but incorporating some side-to-side stuff could help shake points loose.

Indy coach Rick Carlisle and his staff deserve plenty of credit, too. The Pacers’ attention to detail in these Finals has been top-tier. OKC has scored, but it’s rarely been easy. Pacers are zipping around, making tough rotations at full speed and forcing shots from the untamed spaces a few feet inside the three-point line. Don’t mistake a lack of overhelping for enabling one-on-one basketball; the Pacers are just strategic about where they send reinforcements from. For example, Indiana has aggressively ignored Chet Holmgren from the three-point line. He’s been unable to punish them (2-for-17 from deep on the series) and may have lost the confidence of his teammates, leading to eyebrow-raising look-offs like this:

The Pacers’ defense obviously hasn’t been perfect all series, but last night was as close to a perfect defensive game as a team can have on this stage. They forced a nearly seven-minute-long scoring drought spanning two quarters and held the Thunder to their fewest points through 36 minutes (60) all season. Importantly, Indy’s defensive dominance (aided by an offense that never turned it over, limiting OKC’s transition opportunities) meant that the calf-deficient Tyrese Haliburton only needed to log 23 minutes of court time, giving him more rest before Sunday’s Game 7.

Oklahoma City famously has a locker room flatter than a Florida highway. They don’t get high after wins, and they don’t get low after losses. That steadiness is a big reason why they’ve been so resilient all season. Let’s not forget that they’ve already survived a pressure-packed Game 7 by stomping a very good Denver team by a billion points just weeks ago. OKC will enter this Game 7 at home as a heavy favorite.

But I’m reminded of a recurring gag in the Guy Ritchie criminal caper Snatch about an unkillable gangster named Boris the Bullet-Dodger. “Why do they call him the Bullet-Dodger?” asks one character. “‘Cause he dodges bullets,” another answers, incredulous at the question’s stupidity.

Indiana has spent all postseason dodging bullets, and anything can happen in the season’s final game. Is OKC coach Mark Daigneault comfortable sleeping at night knowing that Toppin might drop five threes like an anvil on his head, that McConnell, at 33 years old, has the most energy on the court, or that this Pacers defense remains unsolved? I’d imagine he is not.

There are 48 minutes of NBA basketball left this season. I could not be more excited. Let’s go!