I admit that I have only marginal interest in the Seattle sports scene despite having lived here longer than in any other location in my lifetime—although that might change if the Seahawks sign Matt Flynn. The only football game I attended here was when the Packers played at the King Dome in 1996, the year they won the Super Bowl; the Packers won 31-10, but the principle thing I remember about it was how bored I was waiting for the brief action that occasionally interrupted the standing around. In 1992 I attended a Mariners game when the Brewers were in town, because Robin Yount was chasing 3,000 hits that year; it also happened to be Harold Reynolds Night, and his family was sitting close by to my location. I remember that they looked at me with curiosity whenever I cheered wildly when the Brewers scored a run. I attended one Sonic game when my brother, who was living in Sacramento, paid for the tickets; his principle motivation was a chance to heckle the Kings’ Chris Webber. I also attended several Mariners games when I was employed by the sports apparel company, because of the free food.
The reality is that I my principle interest in sports derives from the teams I cheered for in youth, and these old loyalties seem so imprinted in my mind that I can’t imagine feeling any other way. It’s hard for me to take the local sports scene seriously anyways, because everything about the professional teams seemed second-division and destined to failure. There were no Lombardis or Abdul-Jabbars to remind one of former greatness, no long-time fixtures like Yount or Favre who were recognized superstars. Seattle is a town where great players either leave as soon as they have a chance, or came to lay down in the bone yard because nobody else was foolish enough to pay more than they were worth. You can ask an outsider what athlete personifies Seattle sports, and they might remember that Ken Griffey Jr., but it just seemed that he was wasted here, like Ernie Banks was in Chicago. Sometimes proven winners like Lou Pinella and Mike Holmgren arrived to fan hope, but there was only so much that they could do to make people sit up and take notice. Like all outlying markets, Seattle’s teams are almost lifeless appendages attached to the thriving organism, like the tiny male perpetually attached to the female Angler fish; the teams are merely tolerated as occasional annoyances biting at the heels of the successful franchises.
But a city with delusions of grandeur needs its professional sports franchises, and Seattle—somewhat foolishly having built two completely incompatible stadiums right next to each other for baseball and football when one would have sufficed—now hopes to build a third facility for basketball and perhaps hockey. State and city politicians—who were just as guilty as David Stern for running the Supersonics out of town—will welcome a team back provided it costs it nothing. Private investor Chris Hansen and his partners promise to put up most of the money, with taxes generated by the operation of the facility to pay the remainder. The mayor and the county executive are arranging for an “Arena Advisory Panel” to review “the financing and other details of the proposal to ensure that the proposal is in the best interest of the public.” The proposed panel is a curious mix of people for sure, six of the ten of whom are women, and only Lenny Wilkens has at least a vague connection to the local sports scene. I wouldn’t put much faith in its deliberations.
The Seattle sports media is of course ecstatic, but the Seattle Times news coverage is less than completely supportive. Headlines such as “Arena plan looks solid, but is it?” “Arena proposal may get held up by traffic” “OK, there's an arena plan. Now all Seattle needs are NBA, NHL teams” “Seattle must scrupulously vet details around new arena partnership” “Seattle NBA arena no slam dunk: Teams, money required” and “(Mayor) McGinn's vow to be transparent looks thin” are self-indicting. The latter headline topped an opinion piece by Nicole Brodeur, who actually gets paid for expressing obsessive narcissism and misandry. Who can blame Hansen (or the mayor) for wanting to make certain that the stars were aligned before going public in the face of these ninnies? Having been forced to prematurely reveal the extent of their machinations, the media has dug its claws into perceived “weaknesses” of the plan, sowing the seeds of doubt. The fact is that Hansen has displayed far more in civic values than the Times has, which seems to spend most of its time mired in gender and immigration politics, sex crimes and opposing needed tax reforms to keep the state’s educational and health care system afloat.
In the meantime, there is much enthusiasm about the Sacramento Kings relocating to Seattle to replace the Sonics, about as reality-based as Peyton Manning coming to town. NBA commissioner David Stern recently appointed Clay Bennett as chair of the league’s team relocation committee. We all remember who Bennett is, don’t we? Fans in Sacramento have reason to be disturbed by this development, since Bennett is a master at relocation manipulation; he knows how it is done. Although the NBA doesn’t officially control where teams move, it certainly can influence events, such as when the league stepped-in to buy the New Orleans franchise when no local buyer seemed interested. Bennett probably would have bought the team himself, having given the franchise a temporary haven in Oklahoma City after Hurricane Katrina. But Stern wasn’t going to be held responsible for abandoning New Orleans, but to him Seattle was just a piece of fruit waiting to be picked. Stern could have made a personal plea to recalcitrant state officials, but the Seattle franchise was his gift to Bennett; he was certainly aware of the Bennett group’s intention to move the team to Oklahoma, although he was embarrassed by the release of incriminating emails that forced him to levy a token fine on one of the group’s lead hoods.
Stern has since seemed lukewarm to the possibility of revisiting Seattle. Should he be trusted? Why? Last year, Stan Van Gundy took his measure of the man when he denounced the lack of accountability by the league office:
"I certainly can't have an opinion because David Stern, like a lot of leaders we've seen in this world lately, don't really tolerate other people's opinions or free speech or anything. So I'm not really allowed to have an opinion, so it's up to him. He decides. And he likes the system that he has. He does not tolerate freedom of speech when it comes to NBA issues. He's the only opinion."
It’s hard to figure Stern, because sometimes he supports or opposes team relocation for business considerations, and other times apparently motivated by personal whim. The Hornets already moved once from Charlotte, which was once a thriving market before owner George Shinn ran the team into the ground, and there is no reason save pure sentimentality that it should stay in New Orleans. But stay it will, and perhaps the hope is long enough for Seattle to get its act together and build an arena. In the meantime, some fans here are dismissive of the idea that the Sacramento Kings would prefer to move to Anaheim instead of Seattle if their arena deal falls through; but Howard Stern lookalike Ailene Voison of the Sacramento Bee—who seems to have a cow town’s self-conscious disdain over the perceived “assumption” by some in Seattle that “her” team is ripe for the taking—continues to do her best to throw water on that idea. Of course, the Kings used to be other cities team as well: The Rochester Royals, the Cincinnati Royals, and the Kansas City Kings; but Voison is right for the wrong reasons about why it seems more likely that the Kings would prefer to move to Anaheim: The Maloof brothers, who own the Kings, have been promised a loan guarantee to cover their massive debts—as well as the relocation fee paid for, subsidized rent, and an arena that will be renovated with public money. The Maloofs say they are not selling, so how could Seattle with its current political climate possibly be an alternative they would consider?
As I’ve said before, Seattle is a snake-bit sports town, and I feel fortunate that I have no particular vicarious connection to what happens here. But looking from the outside, I can’t help but feel a certain contempt for the way the city trips over its own feet seemingly out of spite.
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