When ESPN analyst Cory Alexander boldly claimed that the Indiana Pacers’ potential loss of Myles Turner would be “bigger than losing Tyrese Haliburton,” it sent shockwaves through the NBA community. Fans and analysts alike were stunned, not because Turner isn’t valuable, but because Haliburton has long been regarded as the face of the Pacers’ franchise and one of the brightest young guards in the league. For Alexander to say such a thing, and to double down on it during national coverage, was not just a hot take—it was a challenge to conventional thinking. Yet, when unpacked thoughtfully, there may be more substance to his statement than initially meets the eye.
At first glance, it seems sacrilegious to suggest that Turner, a center known more for his rim protection and occasional three-point shooting, could be more valuable than Haliburton, the All-Star floor general whose emergence elevated the Pacers into playoff contention. Haliburton led the league in assists for much of last season, has a high basketball IQ, and is considered one of the best young playmakers in the game. His ability to create, score, and lead on and off the floor makes him a franchise cornerstone. But basketball is a team game, and not all value is measured in points and assists.
Myles Turner, often overlooked, has been the anchor of the Pacers’ defense for nearly a decade. He’s led the league in blocks multiple times and continues to be one of the few true rim protectors left in the modern NBA. In an era dominated by pace, space, and three-point shooting, having a big man who can stretch the floor on offense and dominate the paint on defense is a luxury many teams can only dream about. Turner is not a flashy player. He’s not someone who will sell jerseys or dominate TikTok highlight reels, but he’s one of the most consistent and effective two-way big men in the league.
When Alexander made his comments, he emphasized how integral Turner’s presence is to Indiana’s identity. And he’s not entirely wrong. Haliburton may run the offense, but Turner holds the defense together. Without Turner, the Pacers become vulnerable inside. Their perimeter defenders can’t gamble knowing there’s a wall behind them, and they lose the rebounding presence and shot-blocking instincts that have saved countless possessions.
To understand Alexander’s stance, one must consider not just what Turner does, but what happens when he’s not on the floor. In games where Turner has been injured or unavailable, the Pacers’ defensive efficiency plummets. They struggle to contain drives, give up easy layups, and often get bullied on the boards. Backup bigs like Isaiah Jackson and Jalen Smith have promise, but they don’t offer the same combination of experience, communication, and timing that Turner provides. He’s a defensive quarterback, always directing traffic, calling out switches, and positioning himself to deter drives. That doesn’t show up in a box score, but it shows up in wins and losses.
Meanwhile, the Pacers have some flexibility in the backcourt. While Haliburton is elite, players like Andrew Nembhard and Bennedict Mathurin offer dynamic guard play. While they are not ready to take over full-time ball-handling duties, they do provide a foundation that can be built upon. It’s easier, in theory, to find a scoring or facilitating guard than it is to find a two-way big man who can block three shots a night, shoot threes, and switch onto smaller players when necessary.
Cory Alexander’s take is also rooted in how rare Turner’s skillset is. Centers like him—ones who can shoot from the outside and still anchor a defense—don’t grow on trees. The list is short: Bam Adebayo, Brook Lopez, Kristaps Porzingis to some extent, and maybe a few others. But even among them, Turner is one of the most effective pure shot blockers and has managed to stay relatively healthy in recent seasons, after a few early career hiccups.
There’s also a leadership component. While Haliburton is certainly charismatic and media-friendly, Turner has grown into a vocal veteran presence in the locker room. He’s played through multiple coaching changes, rebuilds, and trade rumors. His loyalty to Indiana and willingness to embrace whatever role is asked of him speaks volumes about his professionalism and team-first mentality. When rumors swirled about potential trades to Boston, Dallas, or New Orleans, Turner kept quiet, stayed ready, and performed. That kind of stability is invaluable in a young locker room.
None of this is to say that Haliburton isn’t massively important. The Pacers without Haliburton would lose their offensive engine, their transition spark, and their crunch-time shot creator. But in terms of roster construction, cohesion, and system identity, Turner may indeed be more irreplaceable in certain ways. His presence allows the Pacers to hide weaker defenders, play more aggressive on the wings, and defend teams with dominant big men. Without Turner, every other player’s job becomes harder.
Another aspect worth noting is durability. While Haliburton has shown flashes of brilliance, injuries have interrupted key stretches of his seasons. He missed critical games during playoff pushes, and the offense noticeably stagnated when he sat. Still, even in his absence, the team could occasionally stay afloat. But when Turner is gone, they get exposed, especially against teams with aggressive frontcourts.
From a salary and contract standpoint, Turner is also one of the best values in the league. His recent extension gave the Pacers a high-level center at a price significantly lower than market value for comparable bigs. This flexibility allows Indiana to build around him without compromising cap space or future flexibility. Haliburton, on the other hand, just signed a max extension, and while deserved, that contract brings pressure and limits options elsewhere unless managed carefully.
Cory Alexander’s comments should not be seen as a slight to Haliburton but rather as a wake-up call to those who undervalue defense and structural integrity in team sports. A good offense may sell tickets, but a solid defense wins games, especially in the playoffs. Turner is the kind of player who becomes exponentially more important in a seven-game series when adjustments are constant, and every possession counts. His ability to alter shots, communicate, and cover ground can swing a series. Haliburton, while electric, still has to prove himself under postseason pressure. He’s still learning how to manage games when defenses are set, scouting reports are tailored, and physicality is ramped up.
It’s also a statement about basketball IQ. Turner knows where to be and when. He’s rarely out of position and has become increasingly effective as a decision-maker on offense. Whether setting screens, rolling to the rim, or popping for a three, he spaces the floor and creates problems for opposing defenses. His understanding of timing and spacing complements players like Haliburton, who thrive off movement and misdirection.
In the end, whether one agrees with Cory Alexander or not, the debate is valuable. It forces a reevaluation of what makes a player truly “valuable.” Is it the highlight passes, the scoring outbursts, and the star potential? Or is it the foundational consistency, the dirty work, the ability to elevate the performance of those around you without needing the spotlight?
