Paul George Is Back, Kinda

The Paul George we know won't be back until at least next season. The guy's leg splintered as if it had been struck by an axe just a little over eight months ago. He's going to need more time before he's perfectly recovered. What's important at this juncture is that he's returned to the NBA hardwood at all, that he's running and jumping and getting himself acclimated. He's learning all over again how to trust one of his limbs, an unnerving process that moves at its own pace. Maybe by December of this year, we'll be chirping happily about how he's back up to speed, storkishly gliding through the lane again.

But that's conjecture, and there's danger even in the most well-intentioned crystal ball readings. For now, we can simply be thankful George is beginning to create new memories. There is a phenomenon—one that's perhaps more pronounced than ever, considering how swiftly and widely pictures are disseminated these days—that takes hold whenever an athlete suffers the sort of injury that makes us wince and cover our eyes. In his prolonged absence from competition, we remember the player by the strikingly awful image of him hunched over and horizontal, clutching his knee; or lying on his back, howling; or being carried off on a stretcher, giving a hollow thumbs-up. It comes to define him. Announcers reference it constantly, fans kvetch over it and periodically check in on the player's progress. (This season, the Pacers have had a roster of Not Paul George as much as they've had one composed of corporeal athletes.) We know bodies repair themselves, but it still seems impossible that someone's leg can break into two suddenly discrete parts and become whole again. From time-to-time, we see Instagram photos of the rehabbing athlete taking flat-footed jumpers or going through non-contact drills, and this buoys our spirits somewhat. But until a player returns and resembles his old self, the question lingers: will he ever be the same?

Of course, George isn't about to provide an answer to that anytime soon. He's on a minutes restriction and besides working himself back into peak physical condition, he has an ancient pickup truck's worth of rust to shake off. The Pacers have four games left to play, and if they're fortunate, they might win the opportunity to get bossed by the Hawks in the opening round of the playoffs. These contests will serve as a glorified tune-up for George, who will function as a mascot as much as an actual player throughout the sunset of a doomed-from-the-start Pacers season. It feels in some respects as if he has come back to assuage Indiana fans' fears, to give them something to look forward to. He's putting the ghost of what he might be in seven months in the forefront of their minds.

George is also returning to the NBA for himself. As nervous-making as a protracted rehab is for fans, it's much worse for the player, who slogs through it each day, and who must take things one aggravatingly small increment at a time. But surely, he too dreams of the moment in which he will step back onto the field or court to resume his vocation in earnest. George has been on the brink of medical clearance for a while. He must be glad he got it before the season ended. The gap between knowing you're probably ready to play and actually playing is sizable. It's the difference between standing on the diving board and jumping in, feeling the water against your skin. On Sunday afternoon, Pacers fans gave George a standing ovation. He made his first shot, then made four more in 15 minutes of floor-time. He biffed a fast break and laughed about it. That's a few more checkboxes on the comeback to-do list ticked.

This is all head-clearing and reassuring, if not completely. The impulse to trumpet and celebrate George's return is understandable, but that doesn't make it any less fraught. He has a ways to go. At the very least, he also has an entire summer to condition himself and become more comfortable doing the sorts of violently athletic things he used to. There will be no whispered concerns about whether he'll be ready for training camp or opening night because we're already seen him, and he looks pretty good, considering the circumstances.

Will Paul George ever be Paul George again? This is certainly something to fret over, but not now: it's only April. All indicators are positive, all news points toward a full recovery. In the meantime, Paul George is back, in a way. He's on two intact legs, playing professional basketball. It's a start.