AS THE PREGAME clock hits zeroes before Game 1 of the NBA Finals, the Jackals are ready and fired up to execute Victor Wembanyama's vision.
The European football-style fan club founded by the San Antonio Spurs' superstar fills the top four rows of Section 114 inside Frost Bank Center, perched above the baseline by the visitors' bench, waving signs and wearing all sorts of wild hats, wigs, masks and other creative accessories.
For the moment, Jacob Esquivel has relocated from the top row of Section 114 to just above the tunnel that heads toward the locker room, bringing his bass drum with him. He's joined by Mario "Spurbarian" Moreno.
As they get the cue from the Spurs' game presentation crew, Esquivel bangs the drum twice and Moreno claps his hands once above his head, joined by the rest of the Jackals and Spurs fans throughout the arena. They repeat the routine multiple times, the beat speeding up each round, ending with an elongated roar.
It's executed exactly how Wembanyama intended during a midseason meeting he called with the Jackals, a brainstorming session on the best ways for the group to involve the entire crowd at home games. Wembanyama suggested this new tradition and practiced it with the Jackals during the catered two-hour gathering one afternoon at the rooftop bar of Roca & Martillo, a restaurant at The Rock at La Cantera, the entertainment complex built around the Spurs' new practice facility.
"It baffles me that he gives up his time to just even care about what we say, but he truly cares about it so much," Jackals chant leader Peyton Janssen told ESPN. "He is just addicted to getting better at anything possible."
Following the introduction of the starting lineups, an 80-by-60-foot colorful banner created by San Antonio street artist Shek Vega is unveiled over Section 114, unfurled by being up from row to row. These banners are known as tifos in Europe, and this is another new tradition suggested directly by Wembanyama, who drew inspiration from the "ultras," the Paris Saint-Germain supporters he admired while growing up in France.
"He wanted to bring that European atmosphere, wanted to bring that European football energy to the states," Aidan Sterling, the Jackals president, said. "That's exactly what he did."
Once the Jackals are covered by the tifo, Redmond "Big Red" Carson, one of the Jackals' eight captains, turns around to face the entire group and deliver a pep shout.
"Hey Jackals! This is why you showed up on a Sunday!" Carson, whose day job is selling ranches, yells as the rest of the Jackals shake the tifo with their hands. "This is why you went to 40 games, for this reason, for Game 1 of the NBA Finals! I want to hear it!"
Then Carson, as he's done before every game, rips his T-shirt from the neck down. He continues shouting, but it's indecipherable amid the roaring from the rest of the club.
The Jackals are ready for the Finals, prepared to drown out the hundreds of loud New York Knicks fans who have infiltrated the arena, eager to make their hero proud. Wembanyama will need the group he founded to bring the energy in Friday's Game 2 (8:30 p.m. ET, ABC) in what could be the most important game of the season for the 22-year-old superstar, his young team and the inaugural fan club standing behind them.
"I've known for years that the Spurs community had this strength in them," Wembanyama said when asked about the Jackals the day before the series started. "Now to finally see it being channeled into something organized and efficient, effective, it's a great joy."
WEMBANYAMA PERSONALLY SELECTED every member of the 83-person group after judging tryouts on a Sunday morning in September, when he sat on a replica ice throne (a nod to Spurs legend George Gervin) and scribbled notes as fans shouted and danced in hopes of securing a spot.
There are eight captains, all selected by Wembanyama, who informed them of the honor via a FaceTime call inviting them to a meeting at the Spurs' practice facility, which he began with a PowerPoint presentation detailing his goals for the group.
The Jackals' structure was an emphasis for Wembanyama during the initial meeting with the group's eight captains in the film room at the Spurs' practice facility. They voted on the group's name and went with Wembanyama's suggestion of Jackals, a European twist on the franchise's coyote mascot.
Wembanyama listed several specific roles for the captains on a white board in the room -- president, vice president, chant leader, sign specialist, social media director, drummer -- and participated in the voting process to fill those positions.
"Can you play drums?" Wembanyama asked Esquivel, a 24-year-old electrician with minimal musical experience.
"No, but I'll learn!" Esquivel eagerly replied.
"All of us thought he'd show up for a quick photo op," Jackals vice president Matthew Vasquez said. "He was there for the whole 2½ hours. Not only was he there and present, but he was actively leading the conversation and involving us."
The Jackals pay a $1,000 membership fee, which includes tickets and parking for every home game. "It's the best deal in sports!" Moreno said, a sentiment echoed by several Jackals.
Some of the additional costs for the Jackals are covered by San Antonio's jersey patch sponsor Ledger, a Paris-based digital security firm. The company sponsors the tifo and the signs that fold into clappers, which on the back feature the words for the group's six most frequently used chants. They're all popular chants used in European football with Spurs twists, one of which is titled "Merci Wemby."
Wembanyama has provided feedback and constructive criticism on several occasions throughout the season, often relaying the message via a text from Spurs director of communication Jordan Howenstine.
Wembanyama had a 15-minute one-on-one meeting with Sterling, the Jackals' president, following the Spurs' first-round series victory over the Portland Trail Blazers. He stressed that the chants needed to be condensed in the playoffs, making it easier for the rest of the crowd to get involved.
"For the first 10 minutes, we talked about life and then we got into it," Sterling said. "He told me, 'We've gotta keep it short and clean -- sexy noise as opposed to forced noise."
JOSHUA JAY NIETO stands next to Abel Hernandez Jr. and shouts detailed play-by-play commentary into his ear, allowing the legally blind member of the Jackals to follow the game playing out on the floor below. Big Abel Hernandez stands on the other side of his son. He used to fulfill those duties, but "his dad was very simple," Nieto said, explaining why he took over in midseason. He describes rich details of moves, shots and strategies in real time and at high decibels as Hernandez Jr. soaks it all in with an expression of excited awe on his face.
Nieto didn't know the Hernandez family before the Jackals formed in the preseason. Their dynamic is a prime example of the deep bond the fan group has formed over a span of months.
Nieto and Hernandez take part in all of the chants during breaks in play, including the personalized ones for each Spurs player who goes to the free throw line. There are two for Wembanyama: "Wem-V-P!" and "Merci Wemby," with Janssen deciding which one to go with each time.
The Jackals operate as a well-oiled machine, working hand in hand with the Spurs' game presentation staff, in large part because that's what Wembanyama wants.
"He takes it serious, so we take it serious, too," Alex Pena, the point man for the Jackals' social media accounts, said. "This is something we're trying to build. What NBA star wants to create something like this for his fans? We've got to carry it out for him."
For the same reason, the Jackals are a priority for the Spurs' organization, which flew 50 members of the group to Las Vegas for the NBA Cup final and provided tickets to a road game in Houston, too. The grocery chain HEB, a longtime Spurs sponsor, flew the Jackals' eight captains for Game 7 of the Western Conference finals in Oklahoma City.
"With tremendous effort and results, they dominated the away court Game 7," said Wembanyama, who looked toward the group when he walked onto the court for warmups before that win and acknowledged them by making the official Jackals hand gesture, raising his index and middle fingers together on each side of his head as if he's forming the animal's ears.
During home games, some of the Jackals' captains wear a headset and microphone, allowing them to communicate and coordinate with the Spurs' game presentation staff to avoid conflicting with the public address announcer or videos played on the arena's jumbotron during breaks in play. They've worked together through trial and error to adapt the chants to the fast pace of NBA play. Janssen, seated in the front middle of the Jackals next, starts the chants and makes sure the rest of the group goes along.
A few minutes before Wednesday night's tipoff, Moreno unwraps a cough drop and pops it into his mouth.
"I usually pop one now and another at halftime," Moreno said, implementing a tactic to aid his voice that he learned from a friend who is an opera singer. "Gotta protect your instrument."
One of the primary jobs for the Jackals is to be passionate and loud throughout the game, which is why Moreno bought a replica of an ancient warrior's horn on Etsy, celebrating big plays by the Spurs by blowing it. Cheering and chanting for all 48 minutes is a requirement for the Jackals.
The sing-songy chant used more often is a Spanish classic with a San Antonio twist.
Olé, Olé, Olé
Go Spurs, Go Spurs
When the Knicks call a timeout to try to halt the momentum of a Spurs run, the chorus from Gala's 1997 Eurodance hit "Freed from Desire" blasts over the arena's sound system. This was another request from Wembanyama, who grew up frequently hearing the upbeat, catchy tune at football matches.
Freed from desire, mind and senses purified
Freed from desire, mind and senses purified
Freed from desire, mind and senses purified
Freed from desire
Na-na-na-na-na, na-na, na-na-na, na-na-na
Na-na-na-na-na, na-na, na-na-na, na-na-na
Na-na-na-na-na, na-na, na-na-na, na-na-na
Na-na-na-na-na, na-na, na-na-na, na-na-na
The Jackals, of course, put their own twist on the lyrics and sing them at a deafening roar when the song is played at Frost Bank Center, which is typically once per game amidst a Spurs run.
Spurs are on fire, your defense is terrified
Spurs are on fire, your defense is terrified
Spurs are on fire, your defense is terrified
Spurs are on fire
Na-na-na-na-na, na-na, na-na-na, na-na-na
Na-na-na-na-na, na-na, na-na-na, na-na-na
Na-na-na-na-na, na-na, na-na-na, na-na-na
Na-na-na-na-na, na-na, na-na-na, na-na-na
This idea was part of Wembanyama's PowerPoint presentation during the September meeting, but he suggested "[Devin] Vassell is on fire." The Jackals tweaked the lyric to make it more versatile.
Alas, the Spurs' fire didn't burn strong or long enough in Game 1. The Knicks rallied from a double-digit deficit and closed the game on an 11-0 run to pull off the 105-95 road win. All despite the Jackals' best efforts.
With 20.7 seconds remaining, and the outcome no longer in doubt, a 6-foot-6 French woman who visited the Jackals' section during the fourth quarter bid farewell to the group. Elodie de Fautereau, Wembanyama's mother, blew kisses with both hands several times before heading down the stairs.
After the final buzzer sounded, Spurbarian's voice boomed once again, delivering words of hope to his disappointed but not dispirited brethren.
"It's going to be a long series!" Moreno shouted while standing in the middle of the section.
"Believe! Believe!"