The Squadron looked a lot different when Hill returned to practice on the evening of January 12. Marlon Stewart and Nate Bradley—the two replacement players added before the restart—remained on the roster. Birmingham had also acquired thirty-two-year-old guard Darius Adams, who, like Young, was a former star in the Chinese Basketball Association. Adams was the CBA Finals MVP in 2017, the scoring champion in 2018, and the league MVP in 2019, but had never played in the NBA. He was staying in shape at home in Indianapolis when NBA teams started handing out ten-day contracts like business cards and thought, How do I get one of those? The answer, he realized, was to go through the G League, so Adams entered the player pool and was scooped up by the Squadron.
Seven-footer Zach Hankins, who had missed the first few months of the season recovering from two knee surgeries, was back on the floor. After his initial knee injury (a torn ACL), he had contemplated retiring from basketball forever. Financially, it seemed the practical move; he had played just one season overseas and recently gotten married. As soon as he could walk again, Hankins was delivering packages around Oklahoma City—where he lived with his wife—and using much of his earnings to pay for rehab. He was invited to join the Phoenix Suns for the 2021 NBA Summer League but, as the tournament got underway, still felt significant pain in his knee. Further examinations would reveal torn cartilage, meaning Hankins would require a second procedure.
I don’t know if I can do this anymore, he told himself. Again, he pondered quitting. But the Squadron staff was willing to bring him in and exercise patience with his recovery. Now healthy and moving well, Hankins credited the organization—and its team of trainers and coaches—with saving his career.
Hill wouldn’t be in Birmingham long enough to build chemistry with Hankins or get acquainted with Adams. In fact, January 12 would be his only practice in the G League before the Chicago Bulls called.
During his stint with Atlanta, Hill had played against the Bulls twice, thriving in both games. Chicago’s front office was impressed by his defense, particularly on DeMar DeRozan, who continued to play at an MVP-caliber level. At the turn of the New Year, DeRozan even hit back-to-back game-winning shots on consecutive nights, something never before done in the NBA. Hill was watching it unfold while in quarantine. “I ain’t gonna lie; that made me feel good a little bit,” he said with a smile. “I was like, Okay, I was playing solid against him.”
Solid undersold it, and the proof was now in ink. On January 14, Hill signed a ten-day contract with the Bulls. Two weeks after guarding DeRozan, he was DeRozan’s teammate.
Cheatham was all set to report back to Birmingham from Phoenix when he received the news that the Utah Jazz was calling him up on a ten-day contract. So, he would fly north, not east, and dress for a game against the Cavaliers right away.
Utah was coached by the highly regarded Quin Snyder, a former D-League Coach of the Year in 2009. The team had championship ambitions, sitting at fourth in the Western Conference with a 28-14 record. At present, they were in desperate need of big men, with centers Rudy Gobert, Hassan Whiteside, and Udoka Azubuike, as well as forward Rudy Gay, all in the health and safety protocols. Facing a Cleveland frontcourt that consisted of two seven-footers (Lauri Markkanen and Evan Mobley) and the six-foot-eleven Jarrett Allen (who towers over seven feet if counting his afro), the Jazz started Royce O’Neale at center.
Royce O’Neale is six feet six.
Adding a big through the hardship exception was the team’s priority, and Cheatham appealed to Utah for many reasons: his athleticism, improved shooting ability, and, above all else, defensive versatility. The deal was made official in the early hours of January 12. After meeting the team at shootaround in the morning, Cheatham was active for the game that night. The turnaround was unimaginably fast. Cheatham thought he was going to Birmingham, blinked, and then he was at Vivint Arena, wearing a Utah Jazz uniform, peering out at 18,306 fans.
Midway through the third quarter, with Utah behind 71–58, Cheatham checked in. It was his first time appearing in an NBA game since August 13, 2020. Over an eighteen-monthlong journey, Cheatham had been traded, waived, injured, sidelined by COVID twice, and impacted by personal issues away from basketball. But he had persevered through it all to get back.
While the journey was remarkable, the culmination would be anything but. Cheatham’s three-minute stretch in the third quarter went about as poorly as it could have. He missed his only two shot attempts, one of which touched nothing but air. His team was outscored 12–0, turning a manageable deficit into an insurmountable one. To top it all off, Jarrett Allen caught an alley-oop dunk that wasn’t exactly over Cheatham, but he was definitely in the poster-worthy frame.
Cheatham reentered with 2:02 left in the contest and the outcome long decided. On one possession, he darted to the rim and threw up an errant floater that, again, failed to hit anything. When the buzzer sounded on his much-anticipated return to an NBA floor, Cheatham had recorded 0 points, 0 rebounds, 0 assists, 0 blocks, and 0 steals and shot 0 for 3 from the field. He was also a -13 in five total minutes of action.
Was it disappointing? Of course. Irritating? For sure. Worrying? Absolutely. But Cheatham couldn’t afford to let any of those emotions affect him. Not now. This was day one of ten. “It’s easy to believe when everything’s going right,” he posted on Instagram after the game, over an image of his number 6 Jazz jersey. “I see beauty and progression in every struggle . . . Bounce back Z.”
Would others call this a miracle? Hill would later ponder the question, hunched over a computer, working on a blog post about his debut for the Bulls. He eventually typed, “For me, it’s still an adjustment, but I believe miracles can be just a normal occurrence if you believe and allow the universe to work in your favor.”
With all that led up to that mid-January night in downtown Boston, the word miracle felt appropriate. Almost a year prior to the day, Hill had written down his goal to make it to the NBA. Now he was playing for the NBA team from his home state, about to take the floor at the historic TD Garden. On the opposing side was superstar forward Jayson Tatum, a player that Hill had known since they were both coming up in the Metro East area. Hill’s father had even worked at the same high school in St. Louis as Tatum’s mother.
For Malcolm and Jayson to be meeting again—here—was incredible. A miracle, some might say. “Man, I’m telling you, I’m, like, living it,” Hill stressed. “I used to think this stuff was talk, you know what I mean? But the more I’m experiencing this, the less I believe in things being chance or lucky; it’s just things that people think and how they go about their routines in their day that allows them to have the opportunity.”
Chicago was coming off a humiliating 42-point loss at the hands of the Warriors. This was a chance to bounce back against a loaded Celtics team, led by Tatum and fellow All-Star Jaylen Brown. Still hampered by COVID and injuries, the Bulls would need minutes from Hill, despite his recent—like twenty-four hours ago recent—arrival.
He played sparingly through the first three quarters, going 1 for 3 from the field and defending well. Bulls head coach Billy Donovan liked his competitiveness. Though Hill was still shaky on the team’s system, Donovan decided to employ him down the stretch. Chicago held a 106–100 advantage with 4:25 on the clock when Hill jogged to the scorer’s table.
“So Billy Donovan, with 4:25 left, brings in Malcolm Hill, in his Bulls debut, in just his fourth NBA game, to try to play some very key minutes down the stretch,” said Bulls play-by-play announcer Adam Amin.
Watching on television, fans back in Chicago were likely thinking, Why are we putting in Malcolm Hill? and then, Wait a second . . . who the hell is Malcolm Hill? It wasn’t as if Donovan was out of options. Alfonzo McKinnie, Troy Brown Jr., and Matt Thomas were all available and all more experienced. Putting in Hill meant trusting a near stranger.
For what it’s worth, Amin and color analyst Stacey King were not so skeptical of the decision. Clinging to a slight lead, the Bulls needed defenders, and Hill had already proven to be one of those.
With just under three minutes left and Chicago up 110–104, Tatum attacked an open lane to the basket. His eyes widened as he got closer, timing his steps to elevate for a dunk. Then, suddenly, his path was impeded. Hill had slid over from the weak side, squared his body, and braced for impact. Tatum barreled right into him, throwing up a wild shot in the process. The call was easy: charging violation—Celtics turnover.
“These are the kinds of things that keep you in the league right here,” said King, a former NBA player and D-League head coach himself, “doing the little things.”
A minute later, Hill was matched up against Brown, an athletic wing averaging 28 points per game in January. Brown controlled the ball up top, licked his chops, and tried to go one-on-one. He drove hard to his left, but Hill stuck with him the entire way. As King described, “Malcolm Hill’s on him like a cheap suit . . . too tight!”
Brown spun and spun again, attempting—and failing—to create separation. He rose for a jumper but couldn’t get the shot off with Hill’s outstretched arms in his face. It was too late to change plans. Brown’s feet landed back on the ground. The ref blew his whistle: traveling violation—another Celtics turnover.
Hill pumped his fist and flexed his muscles, more emotion than he was prone to exhibiting. The game was far from over, however. Spurred on by the Garden crowd, Boston strung together an impressive run in the final minute. Hill missed a short jumper that could have put Chicago up four with 45 seconds remaining. Instead, the Celtics would get several clutch free throws from center Robert Williams and steal a 114–112 victory.
Afterward, Hill and Tatum found each other on the court. Cameras captured the moment as they embraced. Tatum shared a simple, yet powerful message: “Keep going.”
The Bulls were sold. One game, albeit a loss, was all they needed to see. On January 17, the front office offered Hill a two-way contract, which would be guaranteed for the rest of the season. He wasn’t just a ten-day replacement player anymore. Hill was in the NBA to stay.
Receiving that offer was vindication, proof for Hill that his obsessive approach was working. That miracles could be normal occurrences.
“I knew he was NBA ready,” said Clayton Hughes, Hill’s stepbrother. “But I didn’t expect him to get a two-way contract in the NBA that fast. Here’s the thing about Malcolm, and I reiterate it all the time. He never gets satisfied. I used to hoop, so I’ve worked out with this man my whole life. People really do not understand how hard he works. There’s no doubt that’s why it’s working out.”
The deal was also vindication for Malcolm Sr., Hill’s father, who had previously made himself two promises. One, he was never going to attend another NBA game unless his son was playing in it. And two, the next time that he watched his son play in person would be in the NBA. “It was just kind of my silent protest,” he explained, “because Malcolm was an NBA player to me all along, even coming out of college. I don’t think he was ever really given the respect he should have been given.”
The respect would come sooner or later, Malcolm Sr. figured. Until then, he would carry out his protest. His vision all along was that Malcolm would go overseas, make good money, come back to the G League, and then jump to the NBA. It happened that way exactly.
Malcolm Sr. made the drive down to Memphis, Tennessee, for Chicago’s next game against the Grizzlies. Tickets were waiting for him at the box office. This would be the first time he would see his son play live since the 2017–18 season, when Malcolm was suiting up for Telekom Baskets Bonn in Germany. Dad had followed every step of the journey on the internet, tuning in to crappy streams at odd hours of the day, always pushing his son to keep going—from the Philippines to Germany to Kazakhstan to Israel to the G League and, finally, to the NBA.
Standing in a jam-packed FedExForum as his son came sprinting out of the tunnel was one of the proudest and happiest moments of Malcolm Sr.’s life. “Outside of the birth of my kids and weddings and things like that . . . it was, like, pure joy,” he explained. It was even more surreal because Malcolm Sr. had already been a Bulls fan. “To see him run out on that court with the Chicago Bulls just brought me pure happiness,” he continued. “And to hear the Memphis Grizzlies fans boo him, it was like music to my ears. I was, like, man, wow. He has made it. It was an unbelievable experience for me.”
With his roster spot secure, Hill seemed determined to justify the organization’s decision. He logged thirty minutes off the bench, recording 12 points (on an efficient 4 of 6 shooting) and 8 rebounds. Chicago lost the game, 119–106, but for Malcolm Sr., the night was unforgettable. He was overwhelmed with emotion before the clock even started running. “And then for him to play the way that he did,” Hill’s father said, “I just felt like God was treating me that day.”