I have a confession to make: I might be a closet AC/DC fan. If you ever pull up to an Edmond intersection next to a nondescript Jeep and believe you feel an earthquake coming, it might just be yours truly damaging his eardrums in the car next to you.

On a more obvious note, I am not a closet NBA fan. I have nothing to hide. Once upon a time, I would tell friends that I had no interest in pro basketball, only the NFL. My, how times have changed. A little franchise known as the Hornets came to OKC a few years ago and rocked us like a hurricane, courtesy of a cranky persona called Katrina. The rest is history.

I enjoyed the Hornets. I even grew to like George Shinn. It seemed that he was embracing our fair city, and working to call it home.

None of that compared to what I saw last night. Continue reading Thunderstruck →