Thaddeus Young patrols the Indiana Pacers' bench during a timeout, laying into teammates who are struggling at home vs. the Atlanta Hawks.

A possible top 4 seed in the East playoffs vs. a team that's competing for lottery balls, and the Pacers trail 61-47.

What he's witnessing is inexcusable.

“I cussed everybody out, including myself," Young says. "I basically told them, ‘What are we going to do? Who are we? At some point we got to take a stand. We’re way better than this. We’re a completely different team than they are and we should be running them out of the gym right now.’"

The Pacers turned it around, even though All-Star Victor Oladipo left after five minutes with a right knee injury, to win 97-89.

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That, in a nutshell, is how players take responsibility for their team. They don't rely on coaches or front-office personnel to do it for them. They don't get all passive-aggressive and break into cliques to grumble.

Exchanges like this happen on every NBA bench. They happen with the Golden State Warriors, winners of three of the past four NBA championships. They happen on a rising team like the Pacers. They happen with the cellar-dwellers, too.

The teams don't all respond the way the Pacers did, however. And that's the difference between being a loser and a winner, or a very good team and a championship team.

It's common for coaches to be hit with most of the blame when a team implodes, but that more accurately reflects the college game, where they have more control. Policing one another is part of what NBA players must do to be successful.

Teams that don't might have spikes in play because of elite talent, but those anomalies are fool's gold. They'll never win big.

"You hope that it’s an extension of the coaches, what they want and what they’re looking for from the team," says Pacers coach Nate McMillan, who rose to the top cop by his second season as a player with the Seattle SuperSonics. "You need that guy teams can recognize, ‘That guy has control of that team.’ That’s policing.

"If you’re not playing hard, it can’t and doesn’t always need to be the coach saying that. Coming from your peers a lot of times is even more effective than a coach saying that. Sometimes when your older sibling is saying something that needs to be done you might listen and open your ears more than when it’s the parent."

A stare from former Pacers forward David West can be enough to humble the most defiant player, but it's not about intimidation. His appearance may command attention but he connects on a cerebral level.

Even the party-time personality Lance Stephenson knew when to listen when he was with the Pacers.

"I never got any pushback from Lance," West says.

No one would dare. Not then.

Not now.

To win, that authority from within is required. The Pacers recognize this truth and it's at the core of their 25-12 start.

Two types of policing

How does this leadership evolve?

It's natural selection. An alpha emerges. The pack falls in line.

Unlike in the wild where the alpha eats first, in the NBA, he makes sure everyone gets a place at the table.

"I always tried to present myself from a humble position and making sure it’s not presumed I have all the answers by any means," West says. "I just want to give honest perspective and people always respect that. I always had teammates that were open to me lending my voice."

The Pacers were a 37-win team, Paul George and Stephenson were in their second seasons and current starting point guard Darren Collison was in his third when West arrived as a free agent seven years ago.

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"Lance was one of the guys, he had to learn how to be serious. He had to learn when to cool it with the antics. He got better at that," West says. "He was one of the guys who had to learn how to carry himself, how to be mature in that environment."

McMillan's first season with the Pacers as an associate head coach to Frank Vogel was West's third. He hums amen to West's approach.

"I don’t think that’s something you can create. And I don’t think you necessarily have to have a good and a bad cop either," McMillan says. "When (West) spoke, you knew he was speaking because we’re messing up. He just didn’t rah rah rah and beat his chest. He spoke because something needed to be said. They respected that."

That's Young today.

Young, who is on an expiring contract and approaching 31, shared the policing role last season with Al Jefferson, an aging center who didn't play much. He's gone.

Oladipo, the Pacers' best player and only All-Star, can be good for positive reinforcement.

In his 10th season, Collison asserts himself. He'll frequently compare mental notes with Young, and that includes input on each other's play.

"When you’re changing things throughout the franchise, you have to build your culture, get them to understand what you’re trying to do, our motives," Young says. "Every organization is different. Guys switch teams a lot. You've got to get guys to understand that we have a nice little train here for guys to jump on. If you don’t want to abide by the rules, we got to keep this thing moving without you."

Tyreke Evans found out about that early in his first season with Indiana. His repeatedly crossed McMillan with his tardiness. It advanced from fines to a suspension; he missed the Oct. 27 game at the Cleveland Cavaliers.

It's McMillan's No. 1 pet peeve, and was even before he came to the NBA. It doesn't matter if it's arriving at the team bus, a team event or practice, being on time is a basic job requirement.

Young was there to embrace Evans when he stumbled.

“I was probably one of the first people who talked to him. I told him, ‘We understand (expletive) happens. Nobody’s perfect.' He paid the price," Young says. "Ever since then, he’s been on time. As players, we’re not worried about that situation. Let’s not let it happen again. Let’s try to be better. He was very receptive to what I had to say, what other guys had to say. The first thing he said was, ‘I’ve never been part of a franchise that actually cared about those type of things. They kind of just let me go.’ Here we do."

After Young's eruption during the game against the Hawks, everything changed. Oladipo missed 11 games with his sore knee and the Pacers got better.

They'd gone 0-7 without Oladipo last season. They were 7-4 this time.

"That was a moment where there was (only) so much I could say," McMillan says of Young's rant on the bench. "I can call a timeout but you know you need to get it together. That was a moment they got it together and talked about playing better basketball and we ended up winning the game.”

Two different areas of policing with good results.

"You have to be able to have a civilized conversation, especially in the midst of battle," Oladipo says. "Emotions and adrenaline get involved so sometimes it might be smarter to put it on the back burner and wait until the timeout or a dead ball to address it."

'It's all about motive'

Paul Pierce is his own man. The legendary forward for the championship Boston Celtics marches to his own beat.

Six years ago, Pierce would stroll into practice with his teammates. He'd drift into his own corner to stretch.

Alone.

The next time the Celtics practiced, Rajon Rondo did the same. Kevin Garnett had seen enough.

"Look at what your presence is having on 9," Garnett shouted, referring to the mercurial Rondo by his jersey number. "He's doing that nonsense, too."

"He pretty much told Paul, 'This is why you need to be with the team because he now feels he doesn’t need to be with the team doing stretches,'" recalls Ryan Hollins, a retired center who spent part of the 2011-12 season in Boston. "He had that rapport with Paul because he knew what it meant. Paul respected that."

When it comes to policing, Hollins, who now works as a national analyst, rattles off a list of the best he encountered in 10 seasons: Jason Kidd, Dirk Nowitzki, Keyon Dooling, Matt Barnes, Marc Gasol and Zach Randolph.

Being a screamer isn't a job requirement.

But the voice must have credibility.

"It’s all about motive. Am I playing to do the right things just because it’s a job or am I playing because it means more to me? Or am I just going through the motions?" Hollins says. "I need you to have my back because this guy is wearing me out in the game, you got to have that communication and trust with teammates. I’ve been in places, all of the bad teams, the players didn’t trust each other. It shows on the floor. Every winning situation I’ve been in, it’s really that the players hold each other accountable. It’s so far beyond anything you’ll go through in the coach’s meeting or see in the scouting report."

Randolph, a hard-nosed power forward and part of the grit-and-grind identity of the Grizzlies with Gasol from 2009-17, knew before anyone spoke to him what he wasn't doing well. He sensed it. He accepted it.

"When I came in the league early you had that veteran relationship, making sure everybody got on the same page," said Randolph, now with the Sacramento Kings and tasked with mentoring young players more than playing. "It’s a good thing."

Randolph, a Marion native, left Michigan State after one season. He'd started only eight times and had to learn how to be a pro quickly.

"We had so many veterans but everybody policed each other," he says of his first six NBA seasons in Portland. "You had Scottie Pippen, Chris Dudley, Arvydas Sabonis, Rasheed Wallace. These guys held people accountable."

As a player with the L.A. Lakers, Luke Walton (now the team's coach) went to four NBA Finals as a teammate of Kobe Bryant. He won two of them. Walton was on Steve Kerr's staff in Golden State for two seasons, which included serving as interim coach 43 games while his boss was out because of back surgery.

"It’s a coach’s job to hold people accountable but the best teams police themselves," Walton says.

Hollins doesn't hesitate when asked for the player who had the greatest impact on his career.

"Kevin Garnett," he says. "Kevin Garnett. Kevin Garnett. There’s nothing like him. He creates culture."

Hollins played for Doc Rivers in Boston and later with the L.A. Clippers but it wasn't the same experience for one big reason: Garnett was 6-11 and 240 pounds of effort, intelligence and intensity, a player who had entered the NBA in 1995 as an 18-year-old.

"Not to discredit Doc, but I've seen the culture that Kevin creates. It wasn’t Doc creating that," Hollins says. "Not even close. Not to say Doc is a bad coach or anything like that. The presence of Kevin, he made me a better player. We did it for us. We didn’t do it because coach told us to do it."

Being a good teammate

McMillan knows the value of veterans and team captains such as Young and Oladipo doing their part. Their salaries aren't just about playing basketball.

They have commitments off the court — autograph sessions, appearances at events and media obligations. That's all boiler plate language in their contracts. It can be a lot to juggle.

What's not in the contract is being a good teammate. Coaches aren't abdicating their responsibilities by encouraging players to police each other. They're hoping for reinforcement of their message, which allows them to focus on the more intricate details of game preparation. The less drama that rises to their level, the better off everyone will be.

“As a coach you still have to police the police. Really," McMillan says. "It may be how they’re going at them wrong, or how they’re communicating with them."

A good communicator, McMillan says, is "normally a guy that has that experience, who has been through it, understands and can communicate that. It doesn’t even have to be the captain of the team."

The four-year, $80 million extension for Myles Turner doesn't kick in until the 2019-20 season. The mild-mannered 6-11 center has been on the receiving end quite a bit. McMillan and team president Kevin Pritchard told him what they expected going into the season.

Those conversations continue among players, who want Turner to be a stronger force on the defensive end and cover for them at the rim. Help defense from the lowest man is vital.

"The biggest thing is you got to be able to hear it," Turner says of being policed by his teammates. "You got to see it as someone's not coming down on you. They want what's best for you. You don't ... take it personal, it's just, 'Maybe I need to do this a little bit better.'"

Before the Pacers traded George prior to the start of the 2017-18 season, Turner's first two seasons had a different tone.

"I've had teammates in the past that they'd take it personal," Turner says. "They think someone's trying to come down on them. They'll fight back. Others don't bitch about it. They say, 'Yes sir,' and keep it moving."

Understanding your teammates

Young chuckles when he reminisces about his biggest influences. Reggie Evans, a journeyman forward, taught him a lot.

So did Elton Brand, a 1998 No. 1 pick and Young's teammates for four seasons with the Philadelphia 76ers, where he's now the general manager.

"He was definitely a guy that was a pro’s pro. He always was able to talk to his teammates and get them to understand what we needed to do to win games," Young says of Brand.

Young takes inventory of the practice court. He knows the book on everyone.

"It’s all about understanding who your teammate is, understanding their personality from observing," he says. "I know each and every guy on this team. I know what guys can take it. I know what guys can’t.

"Some young guys, they just don’t understand. Some of the older guys understand but they’re stuck in their ways. You have to understand how to get through to them. That’s what I’m really good at."

Oladipo was drafted by the Orlando Magic, a rudderless franchise that has yet to undo all of its dysfunction. He spent three seasons there and averaged 28 wins per year. His only visit to the postseason came in 2017 with Oklahoma City.

Long before he became a No. 2 overall pick in 2013, Oladipo knew what in-house policing was all about, which is likely why he's so coachable. He played his way into a Division I scholarship from DeMatha Catholic, a national powerhouse in Hyattsville, Md., that has three other active NBA players.

"I've been in different locker rooms where sometimes it’s been good. Sometimes it hasn’t been good. On the teams I’ve been on that are really good, we’ve been able to talk to each other, get on one another and no one takes it personal," Oladipo says. "When players can do that and your coaching staff doesn’t have to do it every time, it makes the chemistry that much tighter. At DeMatha, it didn’t matter about your feelings."

Collison, a rookie in 2009-10 with New Orleans, learned plenty from West in the season before the point guard was traded to Indiana.

"I was good to receive the message. I just wasn’t good at being vocal with my message," Collison says. "I was still young. I wasn’t good at expressing how I feel. I had the thoughts in my head.

"You have to know how to be vocal. One guy says it and it’s, ‘That’s what I’ve been thinking.’ Now I don't need anyone to do that to make me feel like it's OK.'"

What if a teammate isn't receptive?

"I don’t care," Collison says. "In order to be a good leader, you got to be willing to say it. If somebody’s not afraid to tell you something, I’m not afraid to tell them something."

The Pacers enter the new year as one of the surprises of the league yet again, though they shouldn't be.

The 48 wins in Oladipo's first season weren't a fluke.

No matter how tough the going gets, no one retreats to his own corner. They'd rather meet in the middle to work it out.

That's how they rise.