During Game 1 of the opening-round Western Conference playoffs at Paycom Center, Memphis Grizzlies center Zach Edey stepped up to the free-throw line against the Oklahoma City Thunder.
With just a minute left in the first quarter, the Grizzlies were already trailing by 12 points. Edey had a respectable 70.9% free-throw percentage during the regular season. Against the Thunder`s strong defense, every point from the line was crucial – an opportunity for easy scores. However, Edey encountered a different kind of defense at the free-throw line on this night.
This defense was led by a group of fans, prominent among them a masked man with a bare chest, featuring Easter eggs painted just above his navel spelling out `win`. The fan wildly shook his body, shouted and hollered through a megaphone, giving his utmost effort to cause a missed shot.
Edey missed both his free throws, clearly rattled by Garrett Haviland, an OKC superfan also known as `Thundor`. Oklahoma City went on to secure a comfortable win in the game.
Haviland, 39, is a key figure in what Oklahoma City fans call `free throw defense,` a group that includes other notable superfans like `Brickman` and `Thunder Princess.` When an opposing player prepares to shoot free throws, Haviland dons his mask, positions himself behind the basket, and unleashes his signature `WHOOP,` combined with `yoo-hoo`s and energetic body shakes. If a player is sufficiently distracted to look over, the painted message on his chest completes the disruption.
“Who`s to say that the one instance I make a player laugh or lose focus results in them missing that free throw, and that point could potentially be the game-winner, right?” Haviland shared with ESPN. “That`s the Thundor dream.”
Thundor`s persona has become a fixture at Paycom Center, and Edey is far from the only player to be unsettled by his antics. Haviland recalls Denver Nuggets center Kenyon Martin being the first player affected. During a Christmas Day game in 2010, Haviland, wrapped in Christmas garland with a tree painted on his chest, managed to get the better of Martin.
Interestingly, Thundor had the opposite effect on notoriously poor free-throw shooter Dwight Howard, whom Haviland described as the most interactive player he`s encountered. According to Haviland, Howard would anticipate his presence and engage in playful exchanges. Over the years, Howard surprisingly made more free throws than usual when Haviland attempted to distract him.
This season, the most significant reaction came from Orlando Magic forward Paolo Banchero. Haviland had a painting on his chest depicting `Banchero vs. Chet Holmgren.` Thundor recounts Banchero mouthing “What the hell?” while trying to decipher the artwork, subsequently missing his free throw.
Despite these moments, Thundor`s distractions haven`t consistently helped the home team during this playoff run. Heading into Game 1 of the NBA Finals, opponents had shot 79.3% from the free-throw line at Paycom Center, ranking as the fourth-highest percentage among road venues this postseason, according to ESPN Research.
“For the most part, players either shake it off because they`re professionals or, the few that I`m able to impact, I try to make it count,” Haviland commented.
His superfandom originated during the Thunder`s debut season in Oklahoma in 2008-09. Love`s, the convenience store chain sponsoring the Thunder`s jersey, held a season-long contest to find the team`s ultimate fan. Haviland, an Oklahoma native, saw the advertisement and decided to enter. Winning required getting noticed at Wednesday night home games.
Haviland created a low-cost costume inspired by Jack Black`s `Nacho Libre.` A friend spray-painted a logo on the chest piece, and he borrowed a megaphone from a former cheerleader friend, wrapping it in blue and orange to finish the look. Facing the LA Clippers in a November 2008 game, Haviland bought the cheapest lower-bowl seats available, located behind the basket. He started brainstorming ways to draw attention, and as Clippers center Chris Kaman stepped to the free-throw line, inspiration struck. Haviland would attempt to distract Kaman and make him miss.
Kaman made all three of his free throws that night, but this didn`t discourage Haviland. He realized his spontaneous idea might actually work and began refining his approach. “I started tearing my shirt off, doing belly paints, just escalating it gradually each year to figure out what was most effective for distraction,” he explained.
Chest painting became a regular feature of Haviland`s costume. Depending on the complexity and the artist, a painting can take up to two hours. He makes sure never to repeat a design. More than 40 artists have painted on Haviland over the years. During these playoffs, his chest is often painted just outside Paycom Center, which draws interaction from other fans. If he doesn`t have a painting, he simply goes shirtless with suspenders.
Initially, Haviland wore a shirt, but by the 2010-11 season, he started removing it. He ripped his shirt off during a Halloween home game against the Utah Jazz, revealing a jack-o`-lantern painting on his chest.
During a Western Conference semifinals game against the Nuggets this postseason, Haviland`s chest featured a painting of a basketball being dunked into a sauce packet. Each time he hurried down behind the basket to try and force a miss, he interacted with a fan he`d convinced to give him a chicken nugget. Haviland would then shake his body and pretend to dip the nugget into the sauce. If a player missed, he would eat the nugget.
“I ate a lot of chicken nuggets that night,” he remarked. “And I can tell you, it`s not much fun to sprint down a long set of stairs, eat a chicken nugget, turn around, and then sprint straight back up. It`s quite a peculiar workout.”
Haviland estimates he takes 7,000-9,000 steps per game and attends nearly 95% of the Thunder`s home games. During the playoffs, he works both ends of the court, leading to a rush when players shoot near Section 110, opposite his usual seats near Section 101.
In his regular job, he works for a behavioral health company, assisting individuals with developmental disabilities. Haviland supports their families or staff, providing training on how to better assist people with special needs. This role allows him a flexible schedule but requires travel across the state, sometimes up to two hours from the city.
Consequently, when it`s time to transform into his alter ego Thundor before a game, Haviland performs his own version of a Clark Kent change, often utilizing a Love`s gas station bathroom en route. He`ll enter with his gear in hand and exit carrying his previously worn jeans and polo shirt.
This can sometimes lead to awkward impressions. “I`m sure people look at me thinking, `Oh, that guy just had an accident,`” he said. “And there are times when people give me a suspicious side-eye, and I just want to tell them, `No, no, I didn`t poop my pants, I swear.` But I just go with it. Wherever I can change, whatever I need to do, I`ll do it.”
Haviland frequently encounters other fans who want pictures with him and is often complimented on being gutsy for being willing to remove his shirt.
“When I was a kid, of course, I got bullied, like everyone else. My defense mechanism was humor. I`d make jokes at my own expense to try to deflect the bullies. And so, this is my way of taking the thing I`m most uncomfortable with about my body – my weight – and using it for good.”
That “good” being a missed free throw to help his favorite team, the Thunder, win.
And while Haviland admits this is fundamentally a silly hobby, he takes pride in it as his unique way of supporting the team. His Thundor persona has also achieved a level of popularity he never anticipated.
“It`s just the commitment to sticking with it and seeing it grow and change, and the support and appreciation I receive from other fans is something I truly value,” he stated.
“What`s life worth living if I can`t make others laugh and have a good time?”
