On the morning of December 29, after a whirlwind first week with the Heat, Cheatham tested positive for Omicron.
He was demoralized. It was the summer of 2021 all over again, when he caught the virus right before reporting to training camp with the Thunder. Except this time—at the height of Omicron—it seemed inevitable. Cheatham was arriving at the Heat practice facility every day to learn that someone else had been added to the health and safety protocols. Across the NBA, well over one hundred players were currently out with COVID.
Given the situation, Miami would not be re-signing Cheatham after his ten-day contract expired. Instead, since the team was in San Antonio to face the Spurs (a game that would have to be postponed because Miami did not have enough healthy bodies), he would be quarantining at a hotel for the foreseeable future. The Heat would leave for Houston soon after, but Cheatham would remain. He spent New Year’s Day alone in a desolate room, feeling more frustrated than sick, wondering what the hell might happen next.
“That’s honestly a great example of how ruthless the business can be,” said Heat guard Duncan Robinson, a former G Leaguer himself. “Zylan did everything right. He really did. He showed up every day with great energy, played well in practice, did all the right things. The biggest thing that stuck out to me with him was just his attitude and his approach. Somebody that shows up and brings that type of spirit, I’ll never count somebody like that out.”
Before the Cavaliers traveled to Atlanta for a matchup against Malcolm Hill and the Hawks, they were in New Orleans to face Jared Harper and the Pelicans.
Nearly sixteen thousand people showed up at the Smoothie King Center that night—a fan base somewhat revitalized by the Pelicans’ recent success. The team, which had struggled mightily through November (suffering a nine-game losing streak at one point), had won four of its last five and three straight at home. Against the Cavaliers, however, the Pelicans’ woes seemed to have returned. New Orleans trailed by as many as 23 points in the first quarter and headed back to the locker room down 58–48 at halftime.
During the break, Harper, who had yet to play, was informed by coaches that he would be a part of the second half rotation. That he would get a shot—a real shot—to prove what he could do. It arrived at the 3:12 mark of the third quarter. Sauntering onto the court, Harper appeared . . . well, the same way Jared Harper always appears: cool, focused, emotionless, almost strangely calm. At times in Birmingham, while the team was getting fired up before a game, Harper would be standing there, hands in his pockets, blank expression on his face, like he was in line at a Starbucks. He was engaged and ready to go; his way of showing it was just different.
Make no mistake, despite the change in scenery, this was the same Harper entering the game for the Pelicans. The score was 78–65 in favor of Cleveland. These were pivotal minutes, as the game still hung in the balance. One bad stretch and New Orleans would be buried. One good stretch and the gap could be erased. First, the momentum had to be seized away from the Cavaliers. Life needed to be breathed back into the Smoothie King Center.
Harper picked up the tempo. He pushed the pace on offense, attacking the paint and kicking it out to open shooters. He hounded Cavaliers point guard Ricky Rubio—a former teammate of his with the Phoenix Suns, who is at least four inches taller—on defense. His assertiveness made an immediate impression on Jen Hale, Antonio Daniels, and David Wesley, the broadcasting crew for the Pelicans that evening.
“This young man has a lot of confidence,” Hale remarked. Seconds later, Harper caught a pass on the right wing, set his feet, and fired a three-pointer that sailed through the net. The crowd roared.
“You spoke it into existence!” exclaimed Daniels.
Harper kept rolling. On the next possession, he found Gary Clark in transition for another three-pointer. The crowd roared louder. As time ticked down in the quarter, Harper got into the lane and floated up a shot that softly bounced in. The deficit was down to seven, a very manageable number heading into the final period. “Jared Harper is very at ease,” Hale said. “He does not look rattled by this moment one bit.”
That was Harper—forever at ease. “Putting him in tough, adverse, challenging situations really helped with him being calm,” explained Patrick Harper, Jared’s father. “That also comes with your training. And he’s confident. If he misses three in a row, the game is on the line, he’s going to take the next shot.”
The stage was never too big. In the 2019 NCAA Tournament, with a Final Four spot on the line, Harper scored 12 points in overtime to lift his Auburn Tigers over the Kentucky Wildcats. The game was so anxiety-inducing that somewhere in the crowd of more than seventeen thousand, Erica Harper, Jared’s mom, couldn’t bring herself to watch. But Auburn’s “little maestro,” as head coach Bruce Pearl called him, delivered again.
Jared would never even admit to feeling rattled. “He could be nervous, and I’ll never know,” said Jalen Harper, Jared’s brother. “He would never tell me.”
Jalen, who is three years Jared’s junior, followed his brother’s footsteps to Auburn. A six-foot-one guard, he strives to emulate Jared’s composed demeanor on the floor. The two talk every day, though their discussions rarely center on the exciting goings-on of Jared’s basketball career. That applies to game days too. They might discuss music and TV shows or send each other funny posts from Instagram but not a word about basketball. That part, according to Jalen, has always been understood.
And so it was understood, at least among the Harper family, that Jared would display this sort of aggressiveness on an NBA court. It was the style he had played since his first organized game in a Mableton youth league at the age of five, when parents had to introduce a made-up rule just to slow him down.
He kept the same mindset into the fourth quarter against Cleveland, connecting on a difficult runner over the outstretched arm of a much-taller defender. When he was guarding Rubio, he pressured the ball not unlike how Alvarado—presently out with COVID—would. “Ricky Rubio is hating Jared Harper,” said Daniels, which was perhaps the nicest compliment he could pay.
When Harper checked out with 7:26 left in the game, the Pelicans were still in a hole, down 95–83. Without him, though, the hole surely would have been deeper. In just eight minutes, Harper had registered 7 points, 3 assists, and a block. His performance was, by no means, flawless. He launched one erratic midrange jumper, the kind of shot that would give Pannone nightmares. Just before being subbed out, he also turned the ball over, losing it out of bounds as he tried to corral a pass.
But overall, Harper was impressive—very impressive. He didn’t just look like an NBA player; he looked like a good NBA player.
New Orleans went on to storm back, closing the game on a 25–9 run to grab the improbable 108–104 victory. It was the second biggest comeback in franchise history—an inspiring effort that required contributions from many, including Harper. This was the first time his fingerprints had been on an NBA win. “So what if it was seven points? That was a big seven points that was needed,” Jalen said. “If he didn’t do that, then they would’ve lost. It was his moment.”
Jared, of course, would not be so gung-ho about it. Conversations with Jalen would swiftly return to music and TV shows, like this was any other game. Like Jared being in the NBA—and having an impact in the NBA—was run-of-the-mill. Understood.
“He gets his personality from me,” Patrick said. “That’s what he’s gonna do [on the court]. He’s doing what he’s supposed to do. I think it’s just that—a couple of years that you’ve kind of waited and boom. He was happy. We were all happy. His personality is very laid-back, but I know that inside, he was feeling real, real good about it.”
Above all else, what Jared was feeling that night was a sense of validation. He always knew that he could do it. Now he had actually done it.
At precisely 10:41 a.m. on December 31, less than nine hours before Hawks-Cavaliers was scheduled to tip off, ESPN senior NBA insider Adrian Wojnarowski hit send on a tweet: “Atlanta Hawks guard Malcolm Hill—who had 13 points and 3 steals vs. Chicago on Wednesday—has entered COVID protocols, sources tell ESPN.”
Damn.
Hill wasn’t feeling sick that morning; on the contrary, he was peppy and eager to take the floor. His initial COVID test had come back inconclusive. Team personnel tested him again right after, and this time, the result was negative. Phew, Hill thought. Close call. But he wasn’t out of the woods yet. A third test was conducted just to confirm that the negative result was accurate, and this one was . . . positive? Huh? How was that possible? Hill took three straight tests and received three different results.
He was stunned. This was more than just baffling; it was inexplicable. In the end, the strange sequence of events didn’t matter. A positive was a positive. Hill would enter the NBA’s health and safety protocols and begin quarantining immediately. Even worse, his ten-day contract would expire, and the Hawks would not re-sign him. His time in the NBA had come to a crushing end.
Upon returning to Birmingham, all members of the Squadron—players, coaches, executives, managers, trainers—underwent COVID testing. They would continue to be tested every day ahead of the team’s regular season opener on January 5, an away game against the Stockton Kings. Records would be reset, and the top six teams from each conference—Birmingham was in the West—would earn a spot in the playoffs.
It seemed like a safe bet to assume that the full Squadron team would not be making the trip to Stockton. And sure enough, following two days of player-development workouts in Birmingham, John Petty Jr. tested positive for Omicron. With Harper, Cheatham, and Hill still gone, Petty projected to step into a much larger role. That would have to wait, however, and in the meantime, the Squadron acquired guard Marlon Stewart from the available player pool. Stewart arrived in town and was tested by Gilchrist Schmidt, head athletic trainer, right away. Schmidt couldn’t believe the Squadron’s luck: the COVID replacement for Petty . . . had COVID.
The back-up to the back-up was guard Nate Bradley, who spent training camp with the Squadron. Bradley, thankfully, was COVID-free. That left Birmingham with seven healthy bodies, which, while far from ideal, was enough to play. Two other key pieces would be missing when the Squadron flew to Stockton—both Pannone and PD coach Andrew Warren had also entered protocols.
So, on the team’s first road trip of the regular season, it would be without four of its top players—Harper, Cheatham, Hill, Petty—and its head coach. “I think we knew it would look a little different,” said guard Riley LaChance. “We didn’t really know it would be that extreme.”
Associate head coach T. J. Saint would take over for Pannone. Saint was more than qualified, having worked as a video coordinator for the Detroit Pistons and on the coaching staffs at Belmont University, Butler University, and the University of Georgia. It wasn’t exactly the fairest position to be thrown into, but Saint welcomed the challenge. He was as dedicated a leader as Pannone, a relentless worker who lived and breathed basketball. His goal was to get back to the NBA, and the experience as head coach would be an invaluable step in that direction regardless of the circumstances.
While Saint was busy game-planning, Schmidt was scrambling to try to get Stewart and Petty cleared in time to play. He was working around-the-clock, exchanging texts with Squadron reps as early as 4:00 a.m. on the West Coast. Since both players were five days removed from testing positive, they could be let out of protocols early if their CT (cycle threshold) values—an indicator of the amount of viral material present in one’s system—were above 30. Stewart was the first to get the go-ahead, joining the Squadron a day after the team had arrived in Stockton. Petty’s CT value was soon adequate as well, but there was a holdup. Suddenly, the league office wanted him to ship a test to a specific lab, instead of accepting the results obtained from a location closer to Birmingham. That course of action would take far too long for him to be cleared for January 5. After many conversations, Schmidt managed to get the necessary approval from the league, and Petty hopped on the next available flight.
Saint was going to get his pregame coffee when Petty arrived at the hotel, less than three hours before tip-off. To make matters worse, the six-foot-five guard, fresh out of quarantine and fresh off a commercial flight, hadn’t been able to work out in over a week.
Nothing about the game that night felt customary.
Not the setting—Stockton Arena, which can seat a maximum of twelve thousand people, had a recorded turnout of 440. It was a generous count. The venue, which also hosts hockey games, was stuck at a goosebumps-inducing temperature.
Not the staff—while Saint manned the sideline, Pannone was hosting a virtual watch party on Zoom, another effort to engage with the fans in Birmingham.
Not the roster—Joe Young was the only familiar face in the starting lineup, joined by Tra Holder, Ra’Shad James, Riley LaChance, and James Banks III, all of whom came off the bench during the Showcase.
And not the outcome—after seven straight wins, Birmingham came crashing back down to earth, losing 103–80. Young could get nothing going, shooting 1 of 9 from behind the arc. Petty was able to contribute twenty-three minutes off the bench but looked, understandably, rusty. Holder, who had averaged just thirteen minutes per game through the Showcase, was the team’s best player, recording 15 points and 7 rebounds.
The good news was that Birmingham would get a shot at revenge the following evening. The bad news was that the team would face all the same obstacles. It would take a true heroic effort from someone to give Birmingham a chance, and Young was the closest thing to Superman the Squadron had.
After the team put up a paltry 80 points in its opener, Birmingham needed “Joey Buckets,” the unstoppable scoring alter ego of Young, especially since the Sacramento Kings had assigned guard Jahmi’us Ramsey and transferred two-way forward Louis King to Stockton before the game.
Less than four minutes in, Young sunk his first shot attempt, an off-balanced three-pointer from the corner. “That’s a good sign there,” said Squadron play-by-play announcer Eli Gold.
“You’re not kidding,” replied his partner, Rick Moody.
Young went on to nail six more three-pointers. He would flash every bit of his offensive repertoire: the deep range, the midrange pull-ups, the tough floaters in the lane. This was, in a way, payback—Stockton could have selected Young in the G League Draft, instead opting to trade the number twenty-one pick to the Squadron.
He finished the game with a sensational 40 points on 13 of 23 shooting, to go along with 8 assists and only 1 turnover. The performance earned him immediate praise on social media.
“Joey Buckets I see ya lil bro. Been a killer!” wrote Jonathon Simmons, who went from G League tryout player to $15 million man in the NBA, on Instagram.
“Certified Bucket Getter. Ain’t no way a team can’t use him rn [right now]!” tweeted Indiana Pacers center Myles Turner, Young’s former teammate.
The official G League account posted a video of Young’s highlights with the caption, “58 seconds of pure scoring.”
And yet, it made no difference. Birmingham got demolished, 137–119, anyway. Stockton shot a ridiculous 58 percent from the field and an even more ridiculous 64 percent from behind the arc. The loss guaranteed that Young’s masterful outing would garner far less attention from the people who mattered most: NBA scouts. On a night where he flat out dominated, the Squadron were still outscored by 30 points when he was on the floor.
Help soon arrived. When the Squadron returned to Birmingham for a home game against the Iowa Wolves, an old friend was there to meet them: Jared Harper.
Harper had been transferred down by the Pelicans. Since his breakout game against the Cavaliers, he had yet to receive another second of playing time, which was, for Harper, as puzzling as it was disheartening. “Of course, with me playing well, I thought that after I would get more of an opportunity to play,” he admitted. “But at the end of the day, everything is going to work out for itself.”
His presence may not have been essential in New Orleans, but it was in Birmingham. With Harper back, the 3,375 fans who dedicated their Saturday night to Squadron-Wolves could feel a whole lot better about that decision. Legacy Arena was regularly drawing solid crowds, at least by minor league standards. The experiment in Birmingham was so far proving successful, and the organization hadn’t even come close to tapping into the full market. Locals still saw ads for the team and wondered, Who the hell are the Squadron? Or saw ticket prices and thought, What am I paying that much for?—despite seats being available for less than $20.
Harper, though, was worth the price of admission. He single-handedly seemed to tilt the odds in Birmingham’s favor. As a backcourt, he and Young formed as dangerous a one-two punch as there was in the G League. Iowa had no answers for either of them. Harper would lead Birmingham in nearly every statistical category, registering 28 points, 8 rebounds, and 7 assists. He was matched up with Wolves two-way guard McKinley Wright IV, another undersized guard (five feet eleven) who was known more for his pesky defense than his scoring. Squadron coaches constantly reiterated to Harper the importance of focusing on defense, as Wright did. For both of them, coaches reasoned, that was the ticket to a solidified spot in the NBA. Be like Jose Alvarado.
Coming off his 40-point outburst, Young would tally 27 points (on an efficient 10 of 15 shooting), 3 steals, and a few stitches versus Iowa. During the third quarter, he knocked the ball away from Wright and dove to the floor to retrieve it. The effort was inspiring; the consequences dire. Young’s face collided with the hardwood, leaving a gash on his chin and a cut over his left eye that required stitches. He was forced out with 5:46 left in the third quarter and Birmingham up 75–65. He returned at the start of the fourth, when Birmingham’s lead had been trimmed to 87–82.
The game came down to the final possession. Birmingham secured a defensive rebound with just under seven seconds remaining, down 115–113. Coach Saint, who was still filling in for Pannone, elected not to call timeout. The ball found Harper. He raced to the front court. Fans at Legacy rose to their feet. Five seconds, four, three. With little space to maneuver, Harper tried to cross over and . . . was stripped by Wright. Ball game.
“What a difficult, difficult loss for the Birmingham Squadron,” Moody said. Indeed, it was.
“Iowa Wolves mount second-half comeback to defeat Birmingham Squadron,” read the team’s press release that evening. Less than twenty-four hours later, Joseph Hooven, head of PR, sent out another release: “Pelicans sign Gary Clark to two-way contract.” Which also meant “Pelicans waive Jared Harper off two-way contract.”
That was, unbeknownst to Harper, the organization’s expectation from the beginning. New Orleans wanted another guard in the mix for the end of December, especially as Nickeil Alexander-Walker and Alvarado entered COVID protocols. It was also a well-earned financial reward for Harper, given his stellar play with the Squadron.
Once forward Didi Louzada, who was serving a twenty-five-game suspension for taking a banned substance, returned in mid-January, he would take Clark’s standard roster spot and Clark would take Harper’s two-way spot. That was the plan, and while it was not set in stone, the team ultimately stuck to it. Harper was reacquired by the Squadron and back on a G League contract.
“I think Jared handled it as professionally and as well as anybody could have handled it,” said Squadron general manager Marc Chasanoff. “Right now, it wasn’t the right opportunity. But it doesn’t change the fact that you’re good enough. It doesn’t change the fact that you need to keep going. You can go back through the G League—I’m sure there are people that have come back [from the NBA] and you can let it define you, or you can use it as your motivatian to push through.”
Harper’s motivation never diminished. Every day that he was in the G League, he told himself the same thing: I’m another day closer.
While they were stuck in quarantine, both Cheatham and Hill were receiving interest from other NBA teams. It was a positive sign, sure, but it also made their situations that much more infuriating. After years of grinding for opportunities in the NBA, there were finally organizations prepared to sign them—and they could do nothing about it.
Cheatham was the first to get out of isolation. He immediately flew from San Antonio back home to Phoenix for a few days. Having missed Christmas break, Cheatham wanted to spend some time with his family, especially since his mom was in the throes of a battle with stage IV cancer. His plan was to return to Birmingham soon—the Squadron organization supported his decision to take time away—unless one of those interested NBA clubs pulled the trigger on a ten-day offer.
Hill was able to travel from Atlanta to Birmingham and settle into his apartment at Lumen. Still, even though he was freed from quarantine by the CDC’s guidelines (five days of being asymptomatic), he remained ineligible to play. The G League was now exclusively using a company called BioReference Laboratories (BRL) to analyze and report CT values. Unfortunately for the Squadron, BRL headquarters was in New Jersey. Schmidt tested Hill right away and shipped the contents out through FedEx. The chances of it arriving at the lab in time to be examined the next day were slim. In Hill’s case, the procedure was further delayed and complicated because of a winter storm that swept the Northeast. Schmidt continued to conduct tests and send them out, worrying that the others were not being delivered or dealt with.
Days went by. Hill’s patience was dwindling. He wanted answers. He needed answers. His agent kept contacting Chasanoff, wondering when this would all be sorted out. Chasanoff had the clever idea to ask the Atlanta Hawks if they would test Hill, seeing that NBA teams were getting results much quicker. The Hawks agreed, so Hill woke up at 4:30 a.m. to make the drive from Birmingham to Atlanta. (The earlier he was tested, the earlier he would have answers.) It was a five-hour round-trip journey, and Hill never even got out of his car. He pulled up to the Hawks facility, got swabbed, turned around, and drove right back to Birmingham. He did that twice, in consecutive days, to confirm what he already knew: his CT level was above 30. Hill was finally cleared.