Admittedly this article is rather late. I've intended to write it since the New Orleans Hornets were eliminated in a seven-game series by the San Antonio Spurs. In fact, I even pondered these words as far back as December 2007.
I have another confession. I was last an "everyday" NBA fan when Larry Bird roamed the parquet in the old Boston Garden. Sure, I followed Michael Jordan's successes. Who didn't? But I was one of those sports fans who vehemently argued, "The NBA game isn't as good as it used to be" after the Bird/Magic/Jordan era. And I think I had a good argument...until Chris Paul came along.
I have always called the Southeast home. This is football country. In Louisiana the LSU Tigers and the New Orleans Saints will never have to worry about support. They both enjoy legions of diehard followers whose lives center around Tiger Stadium and the Louisiana Superdome from late August until January. They don't even have to try to sell tickets.
I attended my first Hornets' game of the 2007-08 season in October of last year. My seat required the use of portable oxygen. However, it did not come without benefits. I had plenty of leg room, and I was even able to rest my feet on the seats below me. Moreover, I rested my arms on the seats around me. When I yelled - and I did yell - I swore I could even hear my own echo. The New Orleans Arena was well over half-empty. Sad.
Fast forward to December of 2007. The Hornets had already showed signs of being a team on its way to the postseason. Chris Paul, the third-year phenom point guard from Wake Forest, was already an early MVP candidate. And there I was still, in my nosebleed seat, with no one anywhere near me. I went to work in an effort to sell the Hornets to co-workers, friends, and family. "These guys are fun! There's just something special about this team and their style of play! Give 'em a chance!", I urged ad nauseam to anyone who would listen.
Now it's January 2008. The Saints' disappointing season had mercifully come to an end. The LSU Fighting Tigers had just brought home another college football national championship - in New Orleans of all places. The only game in town: the Hornets. I began to see a few more bodies seated closer to the ceiling like me than to the floor. The wins continued to pile up. And CP3, as we like to call our beloved court general, had become a bona fide contender for NBA MVP.
March 2008: Hornets games were by this point routinely selling out. "The Hive," as we refer to the New Orleans Arena, had become a fun place to watch (and I presume to play) a basketball game. I was still in my cheap seat, but I had neighbors. Lots of them. And they were yelling with me.
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