I have duct tape. Lots of duct tape. I have a label maker, a pretty good one, some gloves and a few big brown boxes. And, if you flatten the back seat and leave the hatchback open, quite a lot of space in my Honda Civic.

So, please, please, let me be the first to volunteer to drive down to the Charlotte Coliseum and help the Hornets pack up and leave town for New Orleans.

I mean, it's not as if I'd have to carry anything heavy -- like an NBA championship trophy, a division title banner, a satchel of civic pride or a box full of front office integrity.

First of all, I'm not so sure the NBA is dumb enough to let this happen, not with a $100 million pledge of support from corporate Charlotte, the debacle in Memphis and league TV ratings down 35% over the last three years. And New Orleans? Don't get me wrong, I love the place. I think they should hold the Super Bowl there every year. But it's a much smaller market with virtually no corporate base, and the state recently had to bail out the Saints.

Nobody wants to lose a sports team. (Gosh, just look at what a ghost town Los Angeles has become without the NFL.) But after the despicable conduct of this franchise during the last several years, if the Hornets really want to bolt for the Big Easy, I say godspeed.

In the first nine years of this team's existence, the city of Charlotte supported the Hornets like no town has ever embraced a pro franchise. Starting in 1988 (starring Kelly Tripucka!) the Hornets played in front of 358 consecutive sold-out crowds at the mint-condition, 24,000-seat Charlotte Coliseum. But after not re-signing star free agents in favor of Boy Scouts like Anthony Mason and Derrick Coleman; never sniffing a title of any kind; and the indignity of having owner George Shinn (the same guy who forces public prayer on fans before games) plastered all over Court TV for alleged sexual improprieties -- the fans had had enough.

They stayed away. Can you blame 'em? Remember, withdrawal in disgust is not the same as apathy. And attendance here has dipped to WNBA levels. I say good for us, for finally utilizing the powerful fan lobby. All at once, it seems, this franchise represents both what's great (the power of fans) and what's horrible (money-grubbing, conscienceless owners) in sports.

The sad thing is how incredibly small a gesture it would have taken from the owners to win the fans and the city back and get the arena and everything else they really desired.

Instead, ya know what the Hornets' response to all this was? No, not, "Please forgive us, we've made some mistakes but we'll work hard to earn your support back and work together toward an arena solution."

Nope.

The response from Shinn and his smarmy co-owner Ray Wooldridge (we call 'em Shinnridge in these parts) was, essentially, "You wanna play hardball? Well, fine, we want you to build us a quarter-billion dollar arena or we're packing up and leaving town."

And when a city with much bigger issues to deal with (schools, infrastructure and a nonexistent sense of humor judging by the sickening e-mails I got after my Steve Spurrier column) voted down an outrageous arena referendum, Shinnridge started whoring themselves around to every city in the country with an inferiority complex.

They took a shot at Memphis, Louisville, Norfolk, St. Louis, Anaheim and, I think, Des Moines, Kalamazoo and the 1,300-seat AARP arena in Boca Raton. At one point, while these two doofuses whined about how their Hornets were losing millions a month, they each took separate team planes up to lobby Louisville.

There is a silver lining to the teal storm cloud that's been hanging over this city for the last several years. With the Hornets gone, Charlotte can finally turn its attention to a basketball team worthy of its love and support -- the North Carolina Charlotte 49ers. The other night, for the whopping sum of $4 I stretched out in the comfy, sparkling confines of the on-campus Halton Arena and cheered on one of the great and talented guys in the biz, coach Bobby Lutz and his Conference USA champion Li'l 49ers.

There was more hustle and heart and teamwork and defense and excitement in the first five minutes of the game than two dozen Whorenet tilts. How many times in one night do you get to cheer for tacos (if the 'Lil 49ers put up 80 it's free tacos for everybody) and take home a Cedric "Cornbread" Maxwell bobblehead doll?

So let the Hornets leave -- here's the keys to my Honda, I even gassed her up for you ... with premium. Just one caveat to New Orleans and Louisiana governor Mike Foster: be very careful what you wish for when you sell your soul for sports.

Because in the last few years here in North Carolina, we have suffered through Rae Carruth, Fred Lane, Bobby Phills, Kerry Collins, Derrick Coleman, regular visits from the aforementioned Court TV, the worst season in NFL history and death, destruction and mayhem at our speedway.

And now this: The Hornets bolt Charlotte.

It's about time something good happened to this town.

David Fleming is a senior writer for ESPN The Magazine. E-mail him at flemfile@aol.com.