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For 15 years, the Toronto Raptors have been haunted by the shot that wouldn't fall.

The 2001 playoffs. Game 7. Down by one. Vince Carter hitting the back of the rim at the buzzer. A plagued franchise prevented from earning its only victory in a best-of-seven series by a few wayward inches.

How long ago was that? Steph Curry's father, Dell, made the inbounds pass.

Two years ago, because sports angst is best enjoyed fresh from hell's oven, they staged a re-enactment.

Game 7. Down by one. Kyle Lowry picking up the ball on a broken play. Blocked by Paul Pierce. Though Pierce is almost a foot taller than Lowry, it was once again a question of an inch or two.

For all of Toronto's basketball sins, it gets to try that again on Sunday.

Gifted a chance on Friday night to step on Indiana's neck, Toronto planted its foot, slipped and landed on its collective face. It ended in an embarrassing 101-83 Game 6 loss.

All the things that had gone wrong for the Raptors in this series – turnovers, vanishing stars, feeble shooting, a lack of focus on either end – came together in a great, ugly aggregate.

If this is anywhere close to Toronto's best while under pressure, the city is now very close to another disappointment. One that should hurt more than any other.

It started so well. Though starts haven't mattered as much as the coaches would have you believe – both teams had won games in which they lost the first quarter – Toronto came out steaming.

After just a few minutes, Paul George was staggering around confusedly and Toronto had a 12-point lead. Uncharacteristically, it was the second unit that eased off. Indiana pulled itself back into it. George remained on the court, a peripheral figure in the early going.

His closely observed all-star counterparts from Toronto were having their usual "me or you?" playoff game. This time it was DeMar DeRozan's turn to disappear early and Kyle Lowry's turn to dial it up to 11 on the effort scale. Once again, the shot was not there – and you're beginning to wonder if he is suffering a physical impediment – but he was at his hard-charging, distributive best. Lowry's eight first-half assists were one off his career playoff high.

You suspected then this might the first game of the series that wasn't either a runaway or late-in-the-day collapse. You would end up wrong, but you thought that.

The first clue was the physicality. Every playoff game is the sport at its most muscular, but this was smash-mouth basketball. Again and again, bodies were allowed to collide at speed with no calls made.

It got so that when Patrick Patterson fully tackled George Hill – plowing the much smaller man into the ground – you were half-surprised it earned a whistle.

The second clue was George's sudden absence. After playing the first 15 minutes of game time, he retired to the bench for much of the second quarter. His vassals kept it close. It was 44-40 Toronto at the break. While the Pacers put on a BMX show at half-time, Drake did an impromptu set back in Toronto's Jurassic Park.

If you are a Raptor fan, this is when you began to feel the familiar fear.

Indiana emerged the more purposeful in the second half, notably on defence. The officials began to tighten their calls. The Pacers drew all the benefit. Suffocated on offence, the Raptors began bleeding out. A four-point lead became an eight-point deficit. Everyone was suddenly in foul trouble. All symmetry was abandoned as Toronto players began wading toward the rim like they were swimming in concrete.

DeRozan in particular was wretched. He's had some terrible games in this postseason. This was the worst by some distance.

The fourth quarter was largely a depressing formality.

DeRozan ended the night with eight measly points. What's worse, he had only one assist. So he neither scored himself or acted as an effective decoy for teammates. It's been said before, but now it's serious: DeRozan must be better. He can't keep saying it's coming, because it's almost over. And if DeRozan isn't worried now – his familiar refrain – there's something wrong with him.

Sunday's Game 7 is just one contest with all the randomness that implies, but there will be knock-on effects.

If it's a win, everyone gets well. Coach Dwane Casey's job is safe. There is no organizational discussion about offering DeRozan a five-year max contract beyond, "Did someone bring a pen?" Lowry sheds his image as a guy who is at his best when it matters least.

If it's a loss, all those things, to varying degrees, are up in the air. There will be significant institutional pressure to change a losing game. With the Jays getting good and the Leafs failing to be dumb, there is a real danger of basketball locking itself back into third place in the market and languishing there for a good long while.

Unless there is a significant shake-up, the next regular season will feel like the one just passed – apathetic. Only much moreso.

This really has become a binary discussion – win big or lose much bigger.

There is also the existential question. For most of 20 years, being a Raptors fan has been like living gluten-free – it's something you endure rather than enjoy. But only one of those things is good for you.

All the Raptors' highlights are actually lowlights – the two playoff misses, the time Kobe Bryant dropped 81 on them, all the stars who left, anything involving Oliver Miller.

Sunday is another rare chance to turn this story to the good. History suggests that … well, history suggests nothing when it comes to this team.

If this franchise has a problem, it's an abundance of history and nothing to really talk about. The Raptors aren't just facing Indiana in two days time. They're facing down the weight of all the things that have gone wrong before.

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