Bird sticks to plan in Indiana amid often-skeptical Pacers fan base

They line up, single file and singular in purpose, between quarters of every Indiana Pacers game at Conseco Fieldhouse during the season. They all want the signature of the dapper executive sitting a few rows up in Section 2, in the seat closest to the tunnel leading to the Pacers' locker room.

Larry Bird dutifully fulfills every autograph request until the game resumes, but it is the autograph of Larry Bird, the legendary player, they want. Or, perhaps, the Larry Bird who was the NBA's Coach of the Year in 1998 and directed the Pacers to the NBA Finals for the only time in franchise history two years later.

The current incarnation of Larry Bird, who labors as president of the Pacers? Fans aren't sure about him. Some, in fact, probably would put their signature on a petition to have him removed.

Stepping into the harrowing domain of front-office leadership is a great equalizer for former players and coaches. No reputation is secure enough to survive the vitriol of today's fan base, which wields the sharp edges of anonymity, a world-wide forum and the absence of fact checkers. It doesn't matter how legendarily you played, doesn't matter how cannily you coached, doesn't matter how many twists of fate you encounter. Every fan with an Internet connection knows more than you know -- or can at least make the claim.

That has been true in Indiana even for a local legend such as Bird. Starting with the brawl at the Palace of Auburn Hills in November 2004, the Pacers were hit with a sudden rash of off-court issues after nearly 40 years of blotter-free behavior. Not coincidentally, they also missed the playoffs three consecutive seasons after participating in 16 of the previous 17. Somebody had to take the blame for the sudden downfall, and who better than the largest figure in the front office, figuratively and literally? The man who had shown up at the house not long before it caught on fire? The one who had escaped the public's wrath throughout his playing and coaching careers, and therefore was due for a comeuppance?

As the Pacers floundered, some local talk-radio hosts and their callers were shouting for Bird to be fired and invoking his unwanted nickname, Larry Legend, with sarcasm. Bloggers and message-board visitors were delighting in the open season on the icon. While some expressed outrage, others felt betrayal.

"I have given him fair consideration the past five years as president of the Pacers' organization, but now I have decided his judgment is impaired," a reader wrote to the Indianapolis Star after one of former point guard Jamaal Tinsley's club incidents had left another stain on the franchise. "Truthfully, I feel like I am looking for a new friend."

The antipathy has begun to dissipate, as Bird's roster moves from last summer showed promise during the 2008-09 season. The bad vibe was still evident after this year's draft, however, when Bird invested the 13th pick in Tyler Hansbrough. It hardly seemed a stretch. Hansbrough was a four-time first-team All-America at North Carolina, led his high school team to two state championships and his college team to a national championship, was the ACC's all-time leading scorer and his school's all-time leading rebounder. Most players drafted 13th over the past decade haven't amounted to much, so expectations should rightfully be modest. Still, the choice was widely panned by Pacers fans.

Bird has responded to the criticism with characteristic stoicism. He's that rare genuinely thick-skinned sports figure who shrugs off most of what's written or said about him. It's a trait he developed in Boston, where a hard shell was a crucial part of his skill set.

"I went out there when I was 22 years old," he said recently. "I mean, it's brutal out there.