A viral narrative can be built on a few stories, or a sliver of opinion, but that doesn’t make it real. Lawmakers should take note.
Jay Chaudhary
| Contributing Columnist
Insiders break down Pacers’ Game 2 loss to OKC Thunder in Oklahoma City
IndyStar’s Zach Osterman and The Oklahoman’s Justin Martinez break down the Indiana Pacers’ Game 2 loss to the Oklahoma City Thunder.
Since I’ve spent the last month or so doing little else besides eating, sleeping and consuming Pacers content, I had to contribute something. Everyone loves sports metaphors (right?), so here are three lessons for policymakers from the Indiana Pacers‘ playoff run.
The danger of viral narratives
As anyone following the NBA playoffs knows by now, Indiana Pacers guard Tyrese Haliburton was named the most overrated player in a poll conducted by The Athletic. That label has since become a recurring headline throughout the Pacers’ run through the playoffs: “Overrate that!” as the saying goes.
As a fan, I’m thrilled that Haliburton used that chip on his shoulder as fuel for an incredible playoff performance. But was he really considered the most overrated player by his peers? Dig into the numbers and you find that this whole narrative was built on the opinions of just 13 NBA players — about 2% of the league.
Haliburton has now proven beyond doubt that he’s a superstar. He was never actually overrated to begin with.
A viral narrative can be built on a few stories, or a sliver of opinion, but that doesn’t make it real. Lawmakers should take note.
We always say we want to be data-driven, but the truth is nothing sells better in public policy than a powerful story.
I cannot tell you how many times I’ve seen lawmakers latch onto a single anecdote from a constituent and use it to make sweeping claims about larger trends. If they hear one story about someone waiting too long for treatment, or having a bad experience with a provider, the immediate reaction is often, “We have to do something.” And if they get a few similar stories? Forget it. Now you’ve got a narrative.
And nothing is more persuasive — or more dangerous — than that.
Trust people closest to the problem
After the stunning Game 1 win in the NBA Finals, Haliburton told ESPN’s Scott Van Pelt that being “really good problem solvers” came down to one thing: trust. The coaching staff trusts the team to read, react, and adapt to the game in real time. That trust is at the core of the Pacers’ success.
It’s a lesson Pacers Coach Rick Carlisle learned the hard way. Early in his career, he was known for being more controlling, with a preference for calling plays from the sideline. But when Carlisle’s Dallas Mavericks brought in future hall-of-fame point guard Jason Kidd, the coach realized his sideline perspective was no match for Kidd’s on-court view. So he let go, trusting Kidd to read the game and lead. The Mavericks won the NBA title.
The best problem solvers are the ones closest to the problem. Don’t micromanage. Empower your team, and let them figure it out.
For policymakers, that means trusting and listening to communities. No one knows what’s going on in a community better than the people living in it. Austrian economics calls this the local knowledge problem: the idea that central planners, no matter how well-intentioned, will never understand local dynamics as well as local actors.
This applies beyond policy. I always have to suppress an eye-roll when I see a glossy three-to-five-year strategic plan. It’s not that I doubt the planners’ intelligence or effort. It is just that the world is just changing too fast.
I’m coming around to the idea that the best way to describe our current moment is through the lens of accelerating change: the concept that the rate of technological, social and cultural change is speeding up, potentially with profound implications for the future.
Long-term plans may have worked in a more stable era. But today? As Mike Tyson famously said, “Everybody has a plan until they get punched in the mouth.”
What matters more than being “strategic” is being “adaptable,” and the only people who can do that quickly enough are the people closest to the fight. Leaders, policymakers, managers, executives: you gotta let it go.
No solutions, only tradeoffs
You may have noticed that the Pacers don’t grab a lot of offensive rebounds, but they are elite at transition defense. That’s not an accident. It’s a deliberate strategic tradeoff. Crashing the boards means you risk giving up fast breaks. Getting back on defense means you sacrifice some second-chance opportunities. You can’t have both.
That’s our final lesson: there are no perfect solutions, only tradeoffs.
You see this most clearly in health care. The iron triangle of health care — cost, access, and quality — means that if you try to maximize one, you’re almost certainly sacrificing another. Make care more affordable, and you may reduce access or quality. Expand access, and costs might rise. Improve quality, and … you get the idea.
This is why blunt instruments like price caps, cost mandates and one-size-fits-all policies usually fall flat. The Pacers do crash the offensive glass, but only when it really matters, and in full alignment with their overall strategy.
Similarly, serious health care policy and leadership is about acknowledging and managing these tradeoffs transparently and intentionally, with clear eyes about what you’re giving up to gain something else.
If the Pacers have shown us anything this postseason, it’s that young teams with the right culture, trust, and clarity about strategic tradeoffs can outperform the odds. That’s a pretty good blueprint for public leadership.
Jay Chaudhary is the former director of the Indiana Division of Mental Health and Addiction and chair of the Indiana Behavioral Health Commission. He writes the Substack, Favorable Thriving Conditions.