The Empty Chair

At eight-thirteen on a gray September morning, Daniel Carter unlocked the analytics room beneath Spectrum Center and found three reporters sitting outside it with cameras already raised. Nobody had ever waited for him before. For four years Daniel had been the man who arrived early enough to smell the stale coffee before the scouts did. He cleaned lineup data, built cap sheets, chased Synergy clips, and prepared draft notes that older men used in meetings without saying his name. His badge said Basketball Operations Associate. His salary said temporary. His cubicle sat beside a printer that screamed whenever anyone used legal paper. Now ESPN was running the words HORNETS FRONT OFFICE IMPLODES across the bottom of every screen in America.