INDIANAPOLIS – Eventually they’ll be finishing each other’s sentences, high-fiving and laughing loudly and even deciding at the same moment that I’ve made a terrible mistake. But before all that, Pacers guard Andrew Nembhard sits there quietly, barely speaking above a whisper, because that’s what he does.

Pretty soon they’ll start interviewing each other, like I’m not even here, but before that Pacers assistant coach Jenny Boucek sits there quietly, studying Nembhard, studying me, studying the room. Because that’s what she does.

If you wanted to be lazy about it, you’d note their differences and leave it there. Black and white. Male and female. Young – Nembhard is 23 – and “getting up there in years” as Boucek, who turns 50 in December, jokes of herself.

Underneath it all, though, they are the same. Softspoken, solitary figures prone to retreating within themselves, obviously successful basketball players – Nembhard is an important piece of the Pacers’ future; Boucek starred at Virginia before playing in the WNBA – who occasionally struggle in the same way:

Quietly, telling no one, thrashing about with more hard work, more quiet time, more solitude.

That was Andrew Nembhard as a rookie last season, grinding through another game, another practice, another workout. This was shortly before the All-Star break. He didn’t say a word, but didn’t have to. Jenny Boucek knew what she was seeing. Like looking into a mirror.

So one day after practice, Nembhard is walking through the Pacers practice facility. He walks past Boucek’s door. She stops him.

“Andrew,” she says. “Let’s talk.”

'I didn’t realize how elite Jenny was'

Pretty soon I’ll just yield the floor here to Boucek and Nembhard, because you won’t need me anymore. Eventually they didn’t need me during our joint interview either, but first they needed to get to know me better. So you’d better get to know them better.

Boucek was going to be a doctor, just like both grandfathers and her dad, all renowned figures in the medical field. She went to Virginia to play basketball for Debbie Ryan and prepare for a medical career, becoming a double major in sports medicine and sports management and landing six internships before graduating first from the UVa School of Education and Human Development.

Nembhard was always going to be a basketball player, same as his brother Ryan, a 6-0 junior at Gonzaga. Their dad, Claude, didn’t play but saw the way his sons gravitated to the game and became a self-made coach, eventually rising to director of Ontario Basketball, the sport’s governing body in that province. The Nembhards have been described as Canada’s royal family of basketball.

But even royalty struggles, and Boucek saw what was happening last year with Nembhard.

“It’s just an innate skill she has,” says Ryan, a Women’s Basketball Hall of Fame coach at Virginia who won 739 games from 1977-2011. “She gets to know someone and figures out what’s best for them, and how they learn – if you are visual, auditory or kinesthetic. She will pick that up almost innately and immediately. She just has a great feel for people. That’s her No. 1 skill, and then she has this level of intelligence that’s off the charts.”

Nembhard had that tough shell, though. He’d seen Boucek work last season with Pacers guard T.J. McConnell, a reluctant 3-point shooter who made just 30 while converting at a 30.6% clip with the Pacers from 2019-22. Boucek gave McConnell one mechanical suggestion, then another, then another. Last season he shot 44.1% on 3-pointers (26-for-59).

Nembhard saw those results, but still.

“At first I was kind of sketchy on it,” he says of working with Boucek. “I wasn’t comfortable with it yet. I just wanted to work on my own thing.”

Boucek is about to jump in, and away they’ll go. Pretty soon Boucek and Nembhard will be talking to each other, the rest of us just flies on the wall.

“It’s studying the athlete and their natural movements, and trying to mix that with the science of shooting, which is physics and biomechanics,” Boucek says. “But it’s a very reciprocal relationship, a lot of communication, an uncomfortable amount of communication with this one here” – Boucek pats Nembhard on the knee – “of what his body’s feeling and showing, with the science.”

Nembhard is smiling.

“I’m not the most talkative, social, open,” he says. “I’m not super-trusting at first, I guess you could say. Takes me a little time to get fully comfortable and express myself. And I never really got coached by a woman before. At first I didn’t know how to go about it, but I really listened to the words she was saying.

“I didn’t realize how elite Jenny was.”

"I had no idea you trusted me"

This started with T.J. McConnell, right? That’s my question.

“Before we get to T.J.,” Boucek says, then turns to Nembhard, “did (2022-23 Pacers veteran) James Johnson have any impact?”

Nembhard: “James, yeah. For real. Me and James were like—”

Boucek: “Very close.”

Nembhard: “—and he worked with Jenny a little bit, and he told me how much she knew.”

Boucek: “But (Andrew) and T.J. are opposites. T.J. grew up with a women’s basketball background. I played for a short time with his aunt (Suzie McConnell-Serio) – she was in the WNBA, an Olympian – so he gravitated toward me. I said a couple things to him. Just try this one thing, see how it feels, and he was like: ‘OK, I want more.’”

Nembhard: “I didn’t know that.”

Boucek. “Yeah. T.J. was right away. You’re the opposite. You were like, ‘I need to watch you.’”

Nembhard, giggling: “Yeah.”

Boucek: “Study you, check you out.”

Nembhard, nodding. “Yeah.”

Boucek: “See if you’re for real, see if I trust you, see if I like you, see if I’m comfortable with you, see if I want to spend time with you. I think James (Johnson) planted some seeds that probably helped, but it took some time.”

Nembhard: “Definitely. James planted some seeds, but I had to know.”

Boucek: “He doesn’t like to publicize what’s going on.”

Nembhard: “I’d rather be off to the side.”

Boucek: “He’s not a spotlight guy. I think even you doing a story about him, my guess, he’s just not that comfortable. It’s not that comfortable for him to talk about himself. It’s legit. It’s very real. I had no idea (Andrew) was starting to trust me, but – he probably doesn’t know this – but his dad and his agent called me separately.”

Nembhard starts to chuckle.

Boucek: “Do you know this story?”

Nembhard: “I found out about it afterwards.”

Boucek: “They both called me. They said basically the same thing: ‘Andrew doesn’t trust many people. He’s a very respectful young man. He doesn’t trust many people – but every time we watch the games on TV, we see him looking for the female coach! And we were like: Why is he looking for that lady?’ So they talked to me about it. They said: ‘He doesn’t trust many people, but he’s trusting you. Can you reach out to him—'"

Nembhard: “Yeah.”

Boucek: “'—and understand that he’s listening to you?' I had no idea. Andrew never showed that to me. He never said anything to me. I had no idea that he trusted me or was listening to me. So that was a bridge, too, them giving me a head’s up.”

'I was the same: I felt unseen, too'

Nembhard and Boucek were similar players. Combo guards, high-scoring stars in high school – they played for powerhouse programs at Gonzaga and Virginia for a reason – who learned defense was their ticket to playing time at the next level. Both became defensive stoppers, a commonality that gave Boucek more insight into Nembhard’s rookie struggles.

That comes out when I ask Boucek, who scored 1,003 points from 1992-96 at Virginia – she was 17-for-63 (27%) on 3-pointers – what she’d change about her shot if she could go back in time.

“The word ‘passion’ comes from the word suffer,” she says. “That’s the Latin etymology. A lot of the things I’m most passionate about are the things I struggled with. And then it becomes part of my purpose and passion to help people not have to go through what I went through – or if they are, they have somebody they can relate to during that struggle. At least they’re not alone. I may not have all the answers, but at least they’re not alone.

“I was like (Nembhard), a defensive stopper. I was a scorer most of my life, but going to Virginia – No. 1 in the nation – everyone wanted to score, so my role became serving everyone else, doing the dirty work, guarding the best player. I kind of lost my confidence in my shot, and that was painful to experience, especially when I knew I had it in me.”

Nembhard is nodding. Boucek looks over, smiles, and continues.

“So when I see guys starting to struggle with their confidence, I’ve been there,” Boucek says. “Part of that is the overcoaching with the shooting, losing the confidence – and then guys are willing to step aside and lose a part of themselves. I know how that feels.”

Nembhard: “I’ve always enjoyed being in the gym, but being a defensive stopper (here), going from 30 games to 80 games, I was definitely at a point where it was a lot to deal with.”

Boucek, to Nembhard: “Our first deep conversation, I don’t know if you remember in my office, I told you where I felt we were most alike. That you’re so low maintenance. Want to tell your version of this?”

Nembhard, smiling: “No, you got it.”

Boucek: “He’s so low maintenance and he doesn’t say much and he’s very strong internally, externally – and a lot of time athletes that present with that confidence, nobody really sees when they struggle because they’re not going to bring attention to themselves. They’re going to stay low maintenance and present as confident, but if you’re paying attention and you’re looking, you can see when the struggle is setting in. He wasn’t saying anything, so I asked him to talk. Because I was the same. I was an athlete who presented as tough and confident and I was going to compete and never ask for help, and I felt unseen at times. So I wanted him to know: ‘I see it. I see you. I’m here, if you need me, because I see you.’”

Nembhard nods.

Boucek: “Was it true, you were starting to struggle a little bit?”

Nembhard: “For sure. Definitely. I was feeling a little stuck.”

Boucek: “Telling him it’s normal to hit a wall when you’re playing as many minutes and you have such a heavy load, because I was a defensive stopper too, and I know what that requires to lock in on key guys and have to study those scouts night after night after night. No matter how hard you play and how well you do it, you’re going to get scored on and you have to bounce right back, so there’s an emotional, mental and physical toll. I remember talking about giving yourself permission to chill out (during the All-Star break) and not be in the gym all the time – because people like him and me, when you start to struggle you work harder, you get in the gym more, and there are times for people like us when we need to do the opposite. And that’s really unnatural, and counter-intuitive.”

Nembhard went into the All-Star break in a 22-for-79 slump from distance (26.9%). He took her advice, took time off, began working with Boucek after the break and finished the season at 35% behind the arc. That was in line with his 34.3% career accuracy in college, but he wanted more. Boucek worked with Nembhard this offseason in Canada, in Florida, and at the Pacers’ facility Downtown. They made some tweaks.

“Just slowing it down,” he says. “Also elbow placement – how it’s getting up looks a little different. Um, what else would you say...”

Nembhard trails off, knowing there’s more.

“I used to hop into my shots,” he says. “We changed my footwork.”

Right about now, it hits me: My headline for the story. I’m so proud of myself, I’m going to tell it to Boucek and Nembhard.

Oops?

Shooting down 'The Shot Doctor'

To get there, I’m asking Boucek about medical school. This is ground the IndyStar covered in a 2022 story about Boucek, writing: “Her fraternal grandfather, Dr. Mark Boucek, was involved in the world’s first baboon-to-baby heart transplant. Her maternal grandfather, Dr. Robert Heath, founded Tulane University’s department of psychiatry and neurology. Her father is a doctor. Her mother is a psychologist.”

Your family’s medical history is remarkable, I’m telling Boucek.

“Even now,” she says, “every time I’m between jobs, my dad is still: ‘Are you going to med school now?’ Not unless they let me skip three grades! But every time there’s a transition, there’s a thought and a conversation, because I know I would have loved being a doctor.”

More on Jenny Boucek: Single mom, trailblazer, her purpose transcends basketball

Here it comes, my big mistake.

“I don’t let people read these stories ahead of time,” I’m telling Boucek and Nembhard. “You only get one first look at it – surprise, here it is – and you’ll get that when it’s out. But I’m going to give away this.”

Dramatic pause.

“Here’s my headline,” I say, pointing at Boucek: “‘The Shot Doctor.’”

Silence:

Boucek: “Well.”

Come on, I’m practically shouting. Where’s my standing ovation for that? The Shot Doctor! Get it?

Boucek: “Yeah, I hear ya.”

Next to her, Nembhard shakes his head.

Nembhard: “There’s just too much. She has so much more to give.”

Boucek: “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

Nembhard: “You can’t just narrow it down to ‘shot doctor,’” he says, then holds up his hands and narrows them, squeezing my idea into dust.

Boucek: “That’s exactly what I felt when you said that. See? (Nembhard) just got inside of my head. That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

Now she’s turning to Nembhard.

“You’re verbalizing for me!” she shouts, and then Jenny Boucek holds up one hand. Nembhard, the other pea in this pod, leans over and completes the high five.

Find IndyStar columnist Gregg Doyel on Twitter at @GreggDoyelStar or at www.facebook.com/greggdoyelstar.

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This article originally appeared on Indianapolis Star: Pacers' Jenny Boucek has helped shots of TJ McConnell, Andrew Nembhard