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I was a Nugget’s fan first. A Syracuse Orange man second. I remain a Carmelo Anthony fan. Watching Carmelo guide my lowly Orange to Championship Land was as good as basketball gets for a 5’4” whiteboy who can’t dunk a Nerf. And Carmelo almost did the same thing for the Nugs two years ago. It was the most relevant the Nuggets have been since the 80’s. And even though the Nugs were terribly disappointing last season, I was still proud of Melo’s efforts. In the playoffs, as we were getting unceremoniously trounced by a lesser team, the only player who didn’t suck was Melo. It’s hard for me to bag on the guy, since he’s always been so fun to watch, and since he remains the ultimate Orangeman. Unfortunately, now I won’t be watching him as a fan. He jumped ship. He’s playing for the other team now. I’ll be forced to admire him from afar. As a nearly-native son, I wish Melo liked Denver better. But I get it. It’s Denver. It’s a cow town. At heart, it always will be. And cow towns can be...

I’m so beaming proud. Twenty years later, and the Nuggies are back in the thick of things. I remember those 1985 Denver Nuggets well. I remember every Denver Nuggets team since. I remember Alex English came to read his poetry at my school. That guy was as graceful off the court as he was on. Amazing Grace and Chuck as was. I remember Danny Shayes sat in front of me at Temple one year, allowing me to sleep without the rabbi being able to see me behind the seven-footer. I remember being the team with the most seven foot white stiffs in the history of the league—Danny Shayes, Blair Rasmussen, Tim Kempton, and Scott Hastings. That’s nearly thirty feet of stiff effort and eight sharp elbows. I remember the decline; the depths of a slide. I remember Orlando Woolridge scoring 30 points a game for Paul Westphal’s sub .250 team. I remember changing our uniform’s right after that, hoping to forever forget those bleak days. I remember drafting Chris Jackson and winding up with Mahmoud ...