As the Indiana Pacers fight for their first-ever NBA championship, a familiar figure watches courtside, eyes fixed, heart pounding. It’s not just another fan—it’s Nancy Leonard, 93 years old, widow of legendary Pacers coach and broadcaster For her, this run isn’t just about basketball. It’s a moment 50 years in the making. A moment her family quite literally helped make possible.
The camera caught her during Game 6 of the NBA Finals, perched at Gainbridge Fieldhouse, hands clenched in nervous anticipation. “I’ve been a little tense,” she says in the WTHR interview, her voice warm but trembling slightly with the weight of history. “But how can you not be excited?”
Nancy and Slick were more than just spectators in Indiana basketball history—they were Indiana basketball history.
Slick Leonard coached the Pacers through their golden ABA era, leading them to three ABA championships (1970, 1972, 1973). But after the ABA-NBA merger in 1976, the team hit hard times. The Pacers were bleeding money and on the verge of collapse.
That’s when Nancy stepped in—not just as a wife, but as a leader.
In 1977, she organized and co-hosted a now-legendary telethon to save the franchise. Over the course of 16 hours, Nancy and Slick, joined by volunteers and fans, sold over 8,000 season tickets. The effort raised nearly $500,000 and saved the Pacers from being sold or relocated. It wasn’t just a feel-good moment—it was a turning point in keeping professional basketball in Indiana.
“The whole franchise was built on grit and love,” Nancy reflects. “And it still is.”
Fast-forward to 2025. The Pacers are in the Finals for the first time since 2000, and Nancy Leonard is still here. In a poetic twist of fate, she’s once again front and center for what could be the most meaningful moment in franchise history.
Pacers center Myles Turner made sure Nancy felt the love. After Game 6, he approached her with a hug and a simple but powerful statement:
“We’re doing this for you.”
Nancy, moved to tears, responded: “That meant so much to me.”
And it shows. As the cameras pan to her during the tense final minutes of the game, her eyes glisten not just with hope, but with memory. She’s watching a team that almost didn’t survive. A team that needed her. A team that now carries her husband’s legacy, and by extension, her own.
The Pacers’ playoff run has been filled with standout performances and buzzer-beaters, but Nancy Leonard’s presence has become its emotional heartbeat.
“She is the Pacers,” one fan tweeted. “If they win it all, that trophy better visit her first.”
And rightfully so. There is no statue outside the arena for Nancy Leonard, no retired number hanging from the rafters. But make no mistake: her impact echoes louder than most banners.
“I think he’s up there smiling,” she says of Slick, looking skyward. “I know he’d be proud of this team.”
Whether or not Indiana takes home the title in Game 7, this Finals run has become something greater than basketball. It’s a tribute to the past, a promise to the future, and a celebration of those who kept the flame alive during the darkest hours.
And in the middle of it all sits a 93-year-old woman with a quiet strength and a heart full of history.
Nancy Leonard isn’t just watching the Pacers chase a dream. She’s watching them finish a journey she and Slick started nearly half a century ago.
And maybe—just maybe—that’s what makes this run feel like destiny.
