In the late nineties, if you had a television and a pulse, you were likely caught in the orbit of Capeside. It was a world where teenagers spoke like university professors on a caffeine bender and every emotional tremor was treated like a seismic event. But while the show was named after Dawson Leery, the guy with the film camera and the Spielberg obsession, it didn't take long for the audience to realize they were actually watching a different story. They were watching the ascent of Pacey Witter.
Joshua Jackson didn't just play a sidekick. He staged a coup.
The Pacey Witter Effect (and How it Changed Everything)
Honestly, nobody saw it coming. When the pilot aired, Pacey was the goofy, motor-mouthed foil. He was the "class clown" who lived in the shadow of Dawson’s earnestness and Joey’s angst. He was basically there to provide the punchlines and the occasional bit of mischief. But Joshua Jackson brought a specific, vulnerable energy to the role that the writers—and eventually creator Kevin Williamson—couldn't ignore.
It was a shift that changed the DNA of teen drama.
Suddenly, the "screw-up" was the one showing the most emotional intelligence. Pacey was the guy who bought Joey a wall to paint on because he believed in her art. He was the one who remembered things. He wasn't just a character; he became a archetype. You've probably noticed that every teen show since—from The O.C. to One Tree Hill—has tried to replicate the "Pacey." They want that specific mix of self-deprecating humor and intense, protective loyalty.
From Mighty Duck to Capeside Outcast
Before he was Pacey, Jackson was already a vet. He’d done the Mighty Ducks movies, playing Charlie Conway. But by the time the Joshua Jackson Dawson’s Creek era began, he was entering that awkward "dead in the water" phase of his career. He was too old for child roles but not quite a leading man. He actually auditioned for both Dawson and Pacey.
Can you imagine him as Dawson? It feels wrong.
The creators felt it too. They saw that Jackson had a certain "gawky young adult" charm that fit the underdog perfectly. He wasn't the guy with the perfect life; he was the guy with the abusive father and the low self-esteem who hid it all behind a barrage of SAT-level vocabulary.
That Infamous Basketball Scene
If you spend any time on social media, you’ve probably seen the clip. Dawson throws a basketball at Pacey’s face during a gym argument, and it hits him with a thud that feels way too real. For years, fans debated if it was CGI or if James Van Der Beek actually tried to take Jackson’s head off.
Jackson recently cleared this up on The Tonight Show. It wasn't CGI. It also wasn't a real basketball. It was a beach ball painted to look like a basketball. Even so, he admits it "didn't feel great." But he was 19. He played it off as being fine because that’s what you do when you’re 19 and trying to look cool on a hit show.
The Chemistry That Rewrote the Script
The most famous part of the show’s history is the Season 3 shift. This is where the Joey and Pacey romance took center stage. Writers have since admitted that the natural chemistry between Joshua Jackson and Katie Holmes—who were actually dating in real life for a time—was so undeniable that they had to pivot the entire series.
It was a risk.
It broke the central premise of the show (Dawson and Joey as soulmates). But it worked because Jackson played Pacey as a man who actually listened. While Dawson was busy making everything about his own cinematic journey, Pacey was busy noticing Joey.
The Paycheck Gap and the Burnout
Success on The WB wasn't all glamorous. Jackson has been quite vocal lately about the reality of those early years. He’s mentioned that he would make more in four episodes of Dawson's Creek than most of his friends' parents made in a year. Yet, at the same time, the grind was brutal.
Twenty-two episodes a year is a marathon.
By the end of the six-season run, Jackson was burnt out. He almost quit acting altogether. He felt like he was just a "reflecting mirror" for the fame rather than an artist. It took a stint doing theater in London to make him actually enjoy the craft again.
"I was quite burnt out. It's a lot of work. And, on that show we were doing 22 episodes a year. It's a grind. Truthfully, the process... is not very pleasant." — Joshua Jackson in Elle (2014)
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Why We Are Still Talking About Pacey in 2026
It’s been decades since the finale aired, yet the show has this weird, immortal legs. Part of it is the "Crying Dawson" meme, sure. But the real staying power is the Pacey/Joey/Dawson debate.
At the 76th Emmy Awards, the producers played the iconic theme song "I Don't Want To Wait" as Jackson walked out to present an award. His reaction? Pure, amused nostalgia. He knows. He knows that no matter how many "homicidal neurosurgeons" (Dr. Death) or "fringe" scientists he plays, he will always be the guy who stole the girl and the show in Capeside.
The legacy of Joshua Jackson Dawson’s Creek isn't just about a 90s haircut or a boat. It's about a performance that took a "sidekick" and turned him into the heart of a generation. He showed that the person who feels like the "spare tire" is often the one actually driving the car.
Actionable Insights for Fans and Rewatchers
If you're diving back into the creek or experiencing it for the first time, look for these specific Jackson-isms:
- Watch for the improvised physical comedy: In the early seasons, Jackson often added small bits of business—trips, fumbles, or reactions—that weren't in the script to make Pacey feel more "inhabited."
- The Season 3 Pivot: Pay attention to episode 12, "A Weekend in the Country." It’s widely considered the turning point where Jackson’s performance forces the writers to acknowledge the Pacey/Joey spark.
- The "I Remember Everything" Scene: In the Season 3 finale, listen to the specific way Jackson delivers his lines. It’s a masterclass in how to play a "nice guy" without being a "pushover."
Start your rewatch focusing specifically on Pacey’s character arc regarding his family. It adds a layer of depth to his later romantic decisions that most people miss the first time around.