Zak Keefer

zak.keefer@indystar.com

Before the New York City kid-turned South Florida restaurant kingpin ever donned his trusty hardhat, before he waved his flamingo in the air at Market Square Arena, before he scribbled his first courtside quip on a sign for all to see, and before the guy who's never lived in Indianapolis became the city's most recognizable Pacers fan, Matt Asen's front-row fandom began with seven rescued kittens and a framed photo of Julius Erving choking Larry Bird.

Which shouldn't surprise you, really — not after scanning the winding, borderline preposterous, Forrest Gumpian odyssey of the man you likely know as The Pacer Guy.

Look all you want, but you won't stumble upon a single layer that isn't astonishing, that doesn't leave you shaking your head in disbelief and that doesn't fall in line with the carefree credo of a guy who, simply put, seizes life's strange twists and turns and has the photos to prove it.

Like the time he was jumped, pushed around and shoved by Knicks fans and nearly tossed from a Pacers playoff game at Madison Square Garden. Or when a woman approached him about a sign he held poking fun at LeBron James, then mentioned the fact that she was James' mother.

Like the time he was driving through New York City in one of his Cadillacs — the one painted like a cow; he calls it the Cowdillac — and, oh, there he is with a cameo on the "Today" show, answering questions from Al Roker. Or the week then-German Chancellor Helmut Schmidt dined at his restaurant three times.

Or when he persuaded former major league pitcher Gaylord Perry to sign a jar of Vaseline. Or when he successfully lobbied Mikey of Life cereal commercial fame to pose with a 15-pound red snapper for a series of commercials.

Rationale does you no good when it comes to explaining Matt Asen. Why does a 61-year-old man who makes his home on the warm shores of Sanibel Island, Fla., spend thousands of dollars on airfare and season tickets to root for a team 950 miles to the north? Why does he sketch slogans on signs for every game he attends? Why does he wear that yellow hardhat, that tuxedo over his jeans, and wave that bright pink flamingo in the air?

Of course, Why? might not be the appropriate question.

With Asen, always: Why not?

"You don't know what opportunities will come your way in life, and you never know why you turn left or turn right," says Asen. "That's the way I look at it. Why not take the opportunity and run with it?"

Which, of course, leads us right back to the seven kittens and Julius Erving choking Larry Bird.

It was 1987 when a woman, vacationing in South Florida, was directed into Asen's home hoping to get one of the kittens he'd rescued and was giving away. She noticed a framed photo of a fight in a 1984 NBA game. In it, Erving had his hands around Bird's throat.

"So, you like basketball?" she asked.

All his life, he told her. Asen had been enamored by the game since growing up in New York's East Village, rooting for Willis Reed and Walt Frazier and the 1970s Knicks.

"Would you like to go to Atlanta with my husband tonight to see the Pacers game?"

Asen's response: Why not?

That's when he learned the woman's name was Diane Simon, and her husband at the time, Herb, was co-owner of the Pacers.

No matter Asen had, to that point, never set foot in the Hoosier state. That very night, he sat in the 12th row next to Simon. He brought his pink flamingo with him for good luck and cheered like a maniac.

Herb's brother and the team's other owner, Mel, saw Asen, loved his spirit and asked that "the pelican guy come back to Indy for the next game."

A few days later he was there at Market Square Arena, sitting in the front row for the night — April 29, 1987 — the Pacers won their first NBA playoff game. With his lucky flamingo by his side, Asen's mug was soon on the front page of the newspaper and on the local news stations.

The Pacer Guy was born.

Soon he was flying himself to and from games and scribbling "MILLER TIME" on signs he waved proudly throughout the games in support of the Pacers' precocious young star named Reggie Miller. Call it luck, call it happenstance, call it fate: Asen was well on his way to becoming the face of a growing Pacers' fan base.

Twenty-seven seasons later he's a fixture at Bankers Life Fieldhouse. His success in the restaurant industry affords him the funds needed to attend a dozen or so regular season games a year and most playoff games. The routine remains unchanged: He settles into the same seat on the baseline, grabs his flamingo, dons his tuxedo and hardhat (an ode to former Pacer Haywoode Workman) and hoists his handiwork throughout the game.

"Built not bought," read his commentary for Game 1 of the Eastern Conference finals on Sunday, a jab at the Miami Heat's free agency-fueled roster. They showed his sign on the video board, same as they've done so many times over the years, and the crowd erupted in approval.

Heat television announcer Tony Fiorentino felt slightly differently.

"With my signs, if I piss two or three people off, I've done my job," Asen says. "If I piss 100 people off, that's not a good thing."

Just as his signs have become a staple of Indiana home games, Asen and his distinct style have become synonymous with Pacer nation. He's become a pseudo-celeb. "Hey, there's the Pacer guy!" he'll hear a dozen times as he makes his way into the Fieldhouse for a game. "Can we get a photo with you?"

He's never shied away from the attention; Indianapolis, he says, has grown into a second home.

"My adopted city," he says. "I look forward to every trip there. It's just a great, friendly, Midwest town."

He still counts Herb Simon a close friend all these years later. The Pacers owner pulls Asen into his suite on game days, gives him a kiss on the cheek and introduces him to his powerful pals — Matt, meet Governor Pence … Matt, this is Senator Joe Donnelly … Matt, this is the Mayor of Indianapolis, Greg Ballard.

"This is the No. 1 Pacers fan," Simon proudly tells all of them.

"I've been very blessed in life to have things happen the way they have," Asen says. "It's been such a fun ride."

Call Star reporter Zak Keefer at (317) 444-6134 and follow him on Twitter: @zkeefer.