Hornets and hope

The sudden rise of a long-dormant fandom

Bzzzzzzz (Photo by Bob Brewer on Unsplash)

One announcement here at the top: I’m thrilled to be interviewing Alison Lyn Miller about her terrific book ROUGH HOUSE at Park Road Books here in Charlotte on April 1. You might remember that I featured Alison and her book in my Pub Day series a few weeks ago. Her book is about dreams and obstacles and the love and friction between fathers and sons, all set against the backdrop of professional wrestling—not at Wrestlemania, but in the musty arenas and high-school gyms of small-town Georgia. I’ve tried to explain forever why I’m so attached to pro wrestling, but Alison’s book is now all I need as Exhibit A. If you’re in or near Charlotte, I hope you come see us.

Now then, on to a different sport.

I arrived in Charlotte in 1989, the summer after the Charlotte Hornets’ first season in the NBA. Before that, Charlotte had been, yes, a pro wrestling town, and a NASCAR town, and the city had minor-league baseball and hockey teams with long histories. But the Hornets were Charlotte’s first real big-league team. The city went crazy. The Charlotte Coliseum held more than 24,000 people and the Hornets sold out every game. I remember standing in line for hours that fall to grab some of the few remaining tickets not already scooped up by season-ticket holders. I sat way in the upper deck for my first Hornets game. Dell Curry (Steph’s dad) hit a jumper at the buzzer to beat Golden State. It felt like the building might crack open and we would all ascend to heaven.

The Hornets went 19-63 that year but it did not matter, Charlotte was in the throes of its first love, and fans filled the arena every game. Then a few years later the team was actually good for a while—everybody who was here back then can remember where they were when Alonzo Mourning hit the shot to beat the Celtics in the 1993 playoffs.

Listen to that crowd, man.

I happened to be in the hospital that day, recovering from some surgery, and I damn near fell off the bed.

I would have fallen off for sure if you had told me that moment, almost 33 years ago, would still be the Hornets’ high point today.

I’m not going to dwell on the history because it’s depressing and infuriating, but: The owner threatened to move the team if he didn’t get a new arena; the city said no; he did in fact move the team to New Orleans; Charlotte got an expansion team (the Bobcats) who finished one of its seasons with the worst record in NBA history; we got the Hornets name back in 2014; the team has had exactly two winning seasons since then.

Not only have the Hornets never won the NBA title, not only have they never made it to the NBA Finals, they’ve never even won a second-round playoff series. The last time they made it to the real playoffs (as opposed to the “play-in” games) was 10 seasons ago.

The Coliseum got torn down. The murals of players that used to be on the side of an uptown bank building got painted over. Charlotte sports radio talked about high-school football more than the NBA team in town. The Hornets were the child so full of potential, so lavishly loved, who ended up flunking out of school and playing video games in the basement. We pretty much forgot they were down there.

This season started like so many others. The day before Thanksgiving, the Hornets lost to New York by 28 points at home to drop to 4-14.

But here is where the music starts to stir.

On Jan. 5, they beat the defending NBA champs—the Oklahoma City Thunder—by 27 in OKC. Five days later, they beat Utah in Utah by 55. They beat the Lakers in L.A. and the Nuggets in Denver.

And since Jan. 22—roughly six weeks ago—they are 16-3 and have basically been the best team in the NBA. They’ve won 10 games in a row on the road. Last night they absolutely drubbed the Boston Celtics—the no. 2 team in the Eastern Conference—in Boston. If you care to watch 15 minutes of pure ass-whooping, enjoy.

It is going to be hard to describe just how astonishing this turnaround has been. What if you watched a line cook make a mess of your hash browns at the Waffle House, and two months later you saw him on TOP CHEF? That’s sort of what it’s like.

Here’s an insane stat:

There are basketball reasons for this that a lot of people are better equipped than me to explain. But here’s a quick version: After years of misses, the Hornets hit it big on three draft picks: point guard LaMelo Ball (2020), wing Brandon Miller (2023), and rookie wing Kon Knueppel. All of them are deadly three-point shooters—a requirement in today’s NBA. The other starting forward, Miles Bridges, is also a big-time scorer. Center Moussa Diabate protects the rim, hustles for rebounds, and dunks like a demon. It took a while for the Hornets to settle on that lineup—partly because of injuries—but that starting five is now 20-2.

Twenty and freaking two.

They are also entertaining as hell. LaMelo is a crazy inventive point guard whose skill is finally catching up with his imagination. (If you want a deeper dive on his eccentric genius, watch this.) Miller and Bridges are both highlight-reel dunkers. Knueppel is so good—he’s already the best rookie three-point shooter in NBA history—that I forgive him for going to Duke.

That win over the Celtics finally nudged them over .500—they’re 32-31 overall, ninth in the Eastern Conference with 19 games to play. Sure, it’s possible that the magic wears off or somebody gets hurt and they fall back into the basement. But it feels way more likely that they’re going to make life miserable in the playoffs for somebody.

They have been such a joy over this last couple of months that I have done one thing I thought I’d never do and am considering another.

I started paying $20 a month for the Hornets’ streaming service so I can see their games, which are almost never on TV otherwise.

And I am considering putting 10 bucks on them to win the NBA title.

I’m aware that I would probably be setting an Alexander Hamilton on fire. The Hornets are not going to win the NBA title. (Current odds: 150-1). They’ll be underdogs to win even one playoff series. But they have given me, and all those other Hornets fans emerging from the ground like cicadas, the most valuable thing a sports team can give a city: hope.

This team is one game over .500 and they already might be my favorite Hornets team ever. It will never be 1993 again—Charlotte’s got too much going on, we’re too big and too scattered and we have too many scars. But our team—our team—is on a historic heater. Why not keep dreaming?

—TT