Charlotteans of the Year

The Carolina Panthers quarterback isn’t perfect, but neither are we— and it’s hard to imagine Charlotte without him now.

- Adam Rhew

CLOSE YOUR EYES WITH ME and think back to January. Remember how it felt to live here, all that excitement? The “Keep Pounding” banners hanging from construction cranes in uptown? The casual, “How ’bout those Panthers?” from grocery store cashiers?

It was—apologies to Dickens—the best of times before the worst of times.

Before the embarrassment of the Super Bowl, before HB2, before brain-eating amoebas and police shootings and protests. Before a miserable presidential election and a miserable gubernatorial election and a miserable Senate election hogged our airwaves. Before the ugliness and despair that have come to define 2016 in North Carolina.

Before all that, we had something to believe in: The 15-1 Carolina Panthers and our franchise quarterback, Cam Newton. There he was, riding a hoverboard down Tryon Street on his way to the stadium. There he was, dabbin’ on ’em. There he was, handing touchdown footballs to children, a big smile stretching across his face as he ran back to the bench.

I’m a native Charlottean and have been a Panthers fan since the franchise’s early days, when the team played home games at Clemson while a stadium rose from the ground in uptown Charlotte. My family has had the same seats in the stadium since the beginning. We were here for the improbable 1996 playoff berth, for the first Super Bowl run during the 2003-04 season. (We were around for the bad years, too, but let’s not dwell on that.)