INDIANAPOLIS — Sitting in front of his temporary locker at Bankers Life Fieldhouse, a purple towel draped around his neck, Tre Demps' words were barely audible. Tears had come and gone, but his emotions were still inhibiting. His face was weary, the edges of his nose red.
Forty-five minutes earlier, Demps' knees had caved into a crouch. His head sank towards the floor. For a brief moment, maybe three or four seconds, time, for Demps, stood still.
Around him, everything was in motion. Players bounded in either direction, some understandably more enthusiastic than others. Cameramen rushed every which way.