
When the NBA introduced the draft lottery in 1985, it was marketed as a revolutionary and fair way to discourage teams from tanking. But for Indiana Pacers fans, it was the beginning of a conspiracy that still stings nearly four decades later. That inaugural lottery, which was supposed to level the playing field, instead sparked one of the greatest controversies in NBA history—culminating in the New York Knicks landing the No. 1 pick and drafting Georgetown phenom Patrick Ewing.
Indiana, which had finished the 1984-85 season with a dismal 22–60 record, was one of seven teams with an equal 1-in-7 chance (14.29%) of securing the top pick. That pick represented not just a potential superstar, but a franchise savior. The Pacers had never fully recovered from the financial and competitive challenges of transitioning from the ABA to the NBA, and a player like Ewing could have changed everything.
Coming out of Georgetown, Patrick Ewing was as close to a “can’t miss” prospect as the league had seen since Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. A 7-foot center with elite defensive skills, athleticism, and leadership, Ewing had led the Hoyas to three NCAA Championship games, winning the title in 1984. NBA scouts and executives considered him a once-in-a-generation anchor—an instant ticket to respectability and playoff relevance.
For the Pacers, Ewing represented a fresh start. With longtime stars like Billy Knight retired and Clark Kellogg already struggling with knee issues, Indiana needed an identity. A frontcourt pairing of Ewing and Kellogg was tantalizing. And with a loyal midwestern fanbase desperate for a winner, many in Indiana felt it was their turn.
The 1985 NBA Draft Lottery was held on May 12, 1985, in New York City. It featured seven non-playoff teams—each represented by an envelope placed into a clear plastic drum. Commissioner David Stern personally drew the envelopes, and when he pulled out the one belonging to the New York Knicks, everything changed.
Immediately, whispers of a rigged system emerged.
The theory that would gain the most traction was the infamous “frozen envelope” idea. As the story goes, the envelope containing the Knicks’ logo was placed in a freezer beforehand. When Stern reached into the drum, he supposedly felt for the coldest envelope and pulled it out—ensuring that the Knicks, in the NBA’s largest market, landed the superstar the league desperately needed to boost ratings and attendance.
Others suggested the envelope had a creased corner, making it tactilely distinct from the others. Footage of the drawing has been combed over for years, with conspiracy theorists pointing out Stern’s body language and the way he spins and reaches.
To this day, no hard proof has emerged to confirm any wrongdoing. But the optics were bad. The NBA was at a crossroads in the mid-1980s. While Magic Johnson and Larry Bird had revived the league’s national profile, the NBA still lacked the global superstardom and financial might it would eventually come to enjoy. Ewing in New York, the league’s flagship market, made perfect business sense. Too perfect.
The Pacers ended up with the second overall pick and selected Wayman Tisdale, a power forward from Oklahoma. Tisdale was a fine player, averaging 15 points per game over 12 seasons, but he was no Ewing. He didn’t change the Pacers’ fortunes, and Indiana remained mired in mediocrity for several more years.
The franchise wouldn’t see consistent success until the 1990s, when Reggie Miller became the new face of Indiana basketball. But even during those exciting runs, fans and franchise insiders couldn’t help but wonder what might have been if the envelope had been different—or if the process had truly been random.
Had the Pacers landed Ewing, it’s possible the entire landscape of the Eastern Conference would have shifted. Would the Bulls still have dominated the ’90s? Would Reggie Miller have ever become a Pacer? The ripple effects are endless.
The 1985 Draft Lottery remains one of the most controversial events in NBA history. While the league has since modernized its lottery system—adding ping pong balls, weighted odds, and secure machines—the shadow of that first lottery still lingers.
David Stern always denied any wrongdoing. But for Pacers fans, especially those who endured the lean years of the 1980s, the events of that night felt like more than bad luck. It felt like betrayal.
The NBA got its dream matchup: Ewing in Madison Square Garden. But Indiana lost more than a draft pick that day—they lost trust in a system that was supposed to offer hope. And for many, the freeze hasn’t thawed.
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