Sports fans like to say they “bleed” their team’s colors, but every now and then, someone comes along who proves it in a way that stops an entire fan base in its tracks. And this is the part most people miss: sometimes the loudest heartbeat of a franchise isn’t in its home arena at all—it’s on the other side of the world, watching on a phone screen in real time.
One of the Detroit Pistons’ most passionate supporters doesn’t live anywhere near Michigan. He lives thousands of miles away, in Seoul, South Korea, yet his connection to the team is so intense that it recently became a viral story that swept through basketball social media. It all centered around a single playoff moment that meant far more to him than just a box score or a series result.
Late in Game 2 of the Pistons’ 2025 first-round Eastern Conference playoff series against the New York Knicks, guard Jalen Brunson inbounded the ball to Karl-Anthony Towns, then got it back and launched a three-pointer from the wing. The shot hit hard off the bottom-right side of the backboard instead of dropping through the net—a huge miss that sealed the win for Detroit. That victory wasn’t just another result; it was the Pistons’ first postseason win since 2008, ending a long drought that had tested the patience and loyalty of their fans.
Nearly 7,000 miles away in Seoul, Tom Hur was watching every second. As the game ticked down, he set his phone up in front of him and hit record, wanting to capture the final moments. Clad in a custom Pistons jersey, he erupted with a high-pitched “Let’s go!” when the final buzzer sounded and the win was official. But here’s where it gets emotional—what happened next even caught him off guard.
Instead of just celebrating and moving on, Hur started crying. The joy of the moment suddenly collided with years of memories, frustration, and loyalty. He later explained that the tears came from remembering all the suffering the team and its fans had gone through, along with the teasing he had endured from friends for sticking with the Pistons through their low points. In that instant, he felt as if his dedication was finally being acknowledged—as if all the years of staying loyal to a struggling team were being rewarded. Those are the kinds of feelings only sports can pull out of someone, especially when they have stayed true through the worst seasons.
That raw, honest reaction hit a nerve online. The clip racked up more than 3 million views on X (formerly Twitter), turning Hur from a “regular” fan into something of a cult hero among Detroit supporters. Even his coworkers at the bank where he works noticed the video, sending him messages asking, “Wait, is this actually you?” The Pistons replied on his post with an all-caps “WE DID IT,” and franchise icon Isiah Thomas, a two-time NBA champion and one of the greatest Pistons of all time, amplified the moment further by sharing it to his Instagram story. Suddenly, the guy who had been cheering alone in Seoul wasn’t alone anymore.
That viral moment didn’t come out of nowhere; it was a public confirmation of something Hur had already written proudly in his social media bios: “#1 Detroit Pistons Fan from South Korea.” Living in a time zone where NBA games often tip off around 9 a.m. local time, he has mastered a challenge many international fans know all too well—staying deeply connected to a team that plays while you’re supposed to be working or commuting. But here’s where it gets controversial: some people might argue you can’t be the “number one fan” if you’re not even in the same country. Hur’s story pushes back hard on that idea.
His love for the Pistons and for the city of Detroit has grown so strong that it has led to several unforgettable interactions with the franchise itself. After he made a trip to Detroit in 2023, the team, which happened to be preparing for a matchup against the Boston Celtics, sent him a signed Cade Cunningham poster along with a jersey from the young star guard. On World Basketball Day, the Pistons went even further and gifted him a custom jersey featuring the South Korean flag and his name stitched on the back—a symbolic blend of his home country and his adopted basketball home.
Hur’s devotion stretches back to his childhood. Growing up, before streaming and official league apps were common, he would ask his parents to record games so he could watch them after school. These days his schedule looks a bit different. He starts work at 10 a.m., which gives him time to watch a large chunk of the first half of morning games. During crucial late-game moments, he jokingly admits to going on “bathroom breaks” so he can sneak in a few plays on his phone when things get tense. Even when he can’t stare at the screen, he stays plugged in through multiple group chats and constant updates on X, Instagram, and other platforms, making sure he knows exactly what’s happening, even if he misses the live broadcast by a few seconds.
Interestingly, Hur himself describes his path to becoming a Pistons fan as “a very weird story.” Back in the mid-2000s, he was playing the video game NBA Live with friends. One friend picked the glamorous Los Angeles Lakers and suggested that Hur choose the Detroit Pistons so the matchup would feel fair and competitive. That simple decision in a video game laid the groundwork for a fandom that would later define a big part of his life. And this is the part most people miss: a life-long obsession often starts with a tiny, seemingly random choice.
His bond with the Pistons truly solidified in 2010, when his favorite player, Tracy McGrady, signed with Detroit for a season. For Hur, that was the turning point. At that moment he told himself, “This is going to be my team forever.” From there, he never looked back, even as the franchise struggled and had far more losing streaks than highlight reels in the years that followed.
Hur also knows he’s not the only Pistons fan in South Korea, even if his social media presence makes him the most visible. Some Korean fans began following Detroit during the iconic “Bad Boys” era of the late 1980s and early 1990s, when the team’s physical, hard-nosed style made them both beloved and despised across the league. Others were pulled in during the Grant Hill years in the mid-to-late 1990s, when Hill’s all-around brilliance made him a global star. From what Hur has seen, though, most South Korean fans gravitate toward franchises in big media markets or those that sit near the top of the standings.
Detroit, especially in recent years, has usually been neither of those things. The Pistons are not a glamour-market team, and their record has often been near the bottom of the league. Because of that, Hur says, the team doesn’t see a massive wave of new, younger fans flooding in from his country. But he does sense a shift. More Korean NBA fans are starting to notice Detroit’s young talent and gritty identity, and they occasionally reach out to him with questions like, “Hey, should I become a Pistons fan?” Those are exactly the kinds of messages he loves seeing, because it means his enthusiasm is rubbing off on other people.
Hur created his X account in September 2021 and quickly became a familiar name in the online Pistons community. On game days, he posts constantly—reactions, clips, jokes, and plenty of videos of himself yelling the famous “Deeeeetroit basketball!” chant. His presence grew to the point where even Pistons big man Isaiah Stewart’s official account followed him back, a small but meaningful nod from a player he cheers for almost daily.
In November 2023, Hur took the leap from being an online supporter to a physical presence in Detroit. He traveled to the city for three days to see the Pistons play in person, a bucket-list experience for any devoted fan. Ironically, his visit happened during one of the darkest stretches in franchise history, as the team was in the middle of an NBA-record 28-game losing streak. Even then, his support never wavered. Because he and a friend were only in town for a short three-night stay, he later admitted he didn’t really get to feel or fully understand the city during that first trip.
So in May, he decided he needed a do-over—on his own terms. He planned a second journey to Detroit, this time traveling solo and stretching the trip to about eight days so he would have the freedom to explore the city properly, beyond just the arena. One of his priorities was tracking down the best food spots, especially for Detroit-style pizza, which is a point of pride for locals. He posted on X asking for recommendations for top pizza places and was overwhelmed with hundreds of responses from people eager to guide him.
When he landed in Detroit at about 10 p.m. Eastern Time on October 24, he wasted no time. His first stop was Sweetwater Tavern, a popular local spot, setting the tone for a food-heavy visit. Around the Pistons’ home opener, he ate at Harry’s Detroit Bar & Grill both before and after the game, turning it into a kind of pre- and postgame ritual. Naturally, Detroit-style pizza showed up on his plate more than once—almost like another way of consuming the culture he’d admired from afar.
Unsurprisingly, his commitment to sampling local cuisine had a physical impact. Hur estimates that he gained about 11 pounds over the course of 10 days. He laughed about it later, saying he ate more than he normally would because he had been given so many restaurant suggestions. With only a limited number of days in town and hundreds of locals urging him to try different places, he felt compelled to pack in as many meals as possible just to experience as much as he could.
His visit wasn’t just about food and basketball games, though. Hur also took a helicopter ride over the city, seizing a chance to see Detroit from above. During the flight, with Little Caesars Arena visible in the background, he recorded himself shouting “Detroit Basketball!” at the top of his lungs. The Pistons’ social media team noticed and replied perfectly in character, mirroring the chant with a drawn-out “DEEETROIT BASKETBALL” in their comment.
Before the home opener, Pistons owner Tom Gores added another unforgettable chapter to Hur’s story. After hearing about Hur’s dedication and his journey, Gores arranged for a surprise shopping spree for him at the team store. Hur loaded up on gear, including a T-shirt that proudly read, “I was a Pistons fan before it was cool,” and a jersey of rookie Ron Holland II. But here’s where it gets controversial: that phrase on the shirt taps into a classic fan debate—does suffering through the bad years make you a “truer” fan than someone who hops on when the team starts winning?
Gores spoke publicly about Hur before the game, saying he was thrilled and impressed by how fully Hur embraced the Pistons from halfway around the world. The owner emphasized that once the organization learned about Hur’s enthusiasm, they wanted to do something special to show their appreciation. He pointed out that Hur’s passion lines up with the growing buzz around both the franchise and the city itself, hinting that there is a new energy around Detroit and that fans like Hur help amplify that momentum.
Players and team staff noticed him in the arena as well. Cade Cunningham recognized him, which is an especially big deal given that Cunningham is the face of the franchise. Isaiah Stewart also took a moment to pose for a photo with him, and Trajan Langdon, the Pistons’ president of basketball operations, made sure to meet him too. For a fan who had once been cheering alone from his living room in Seoul, suddenly being recognized by players, executives, and local fans felt almost surreal.
The exposure from the trip caused Hur’s online profile to explode. His follower count on X jumped from roughly 6,000 to just under 20,000, an enormous leap for a fan account. Even Detroit rapper Big Sean chimed in, commenting “My guy!” on one of Hur’s posts and giving him a stamp of approval from one of the city’s most famous artists. Back home, the attention grew so much that his family began asking whether he might actually move to Detroit one day. Hur told them that if he could find a way to make it work, he genuinely might consider it—a half-joking, half-serious answer that was enough to worry his mother.
His story has spread throughout Detroit’s broader sports culture, not just within the Pistons’ bubble. During his time in the city, Hur went to a Detroit Red Wings hockey game and accepted an invitation from the Detroit Lions to attend one of their NFL games. Even a local police officer recognized him and stopped to ask for a selfie. In Hur’s view, there’s a simple reason people across the city have embraced him so wholeheartedly.
He believes Detroiters can sense that his love for the Pistons and for their city is real. It isn’t a social media act, it’s not a way to chase clout, and it didn’t start just because the team is suddenly winning again. He has been a fan for a long time, through seasons where casual viewers had little reason to tune in. That long-term loyalty, he feels, is why people trust that his affection for Detroit is sincere.
And ultimately, in his mind, he didn’t need a championship run to validate his fandom. He just needed a single playoff win—one emotional, cathartic victory—to show the world, and maybe himself, what all those years of support really meant. So here’s the question that might stir up some debate: does geography and proximity still define who counts as a “real” fan, or do stories like Tom Hur’s prove that passion and patience matter far more than where you live? Would you say a fan like him deserves more respect than someone who only shows up when the team starts winning again? Share where you stand—because this is one sports argument that probably won’t end anytime soon.
