I generally try to refrain from being a resentful Seattle sports fan who cries about losing his pro basketball team to
But the real problem for me at the moment isn't TNT running that particular graphic. It isn't even with Clay Bennett stealing my city's team, my team. The problem I'm facing is simpler: the Thunder are really really good, and I'm having trouble restraining my urge to become a fan.
In 2008, when Clay Bennett
Nick Collison was a fan favorite in Seattle. We respected his hustle on the court and his blandness off of it was endearing in an ironic sort of way. Seattle fans loved him like America loved McLovin in Superbad. Both filled the role of the charming goof, the guy whose skills were lacking but that you pulled for anyway. Rising stars Russell Westbrook and Serge Ibaka never donned the green and gold, but every time we see Westbrook's high-flying dunks or Ibaka's thunderous blocks Sonics diehards know that those are our 2008 number 4 and 24 picks out there (and no, I didn't have to look that up. It seems us Sonics fans aren't very forgetful about the past.)
And then there's Kevin Durant.
I was first amazed by Durant when I passed by him at a hotel restaurant in Spokane, Washington during the 2007 NCAA tournament. He was successfully taking a phone call in his left hand while texting one-handed on a Sidekick with his right. A Sidekick, that's a QWERTY keyboard! I should have known he was destined for NBA stardom at that very moment. In May '07 when the Sonics were awarded the second draft pick in the lottery I immediately grabbed a green sharpie and drew a #35 jersey onto a white shirt so I could be the first one representing Durant at school the next day. In Durant, we had the future of basketball playing in our backyard and we embraced him even though our '07-'08 team had little else to brag about. We may not have had many wins, but we had the second best thing, hope. Then the whole city had the proverbial rug yanked from beneath us and next thing we knew the Durantula was a Thunderclap, or Thunderbolt, or whatever the hell you call one individual member of the Thunder.
At first my loathing for Clay Bennett and bitterness toward the whole relocation debacle made it easy to resent the Thunder. I put aside the reverence I held for Durant & Co. and put full force behind scorning my former franchise. I made it through the first two seasons of Thunder basketball in that mindset without wavering. But something different happened this year; OKC rose from a team happy just to make the playoffs to a true contender in the West. Along the way they began playing an exciting brand of basketball characterized by Westbrook's speed in the open court, Ibaka's presence down low, Durant's elite scoring ability, and James Harden's
(For such a simple game, basketball evokes my inner philosopher like few other things.)
Where was I? Oh, that's right, because the guy who cuts his checks screwed my city on a scale never before seen in professional sports and heisted the team that I had grown up worshiping. But as KD rained jumpers on the Nuggets in the fourth en route to 41 points Wednesday night, it made me wonder. How long will it take me to forgive the whole OKC franchise for their injustices against Seattle? At the moment I don't have the answer. Maybe when Bennett is no longer the owner, maybe when professional basketball returns to Seattle, maybe when Satan issues a formal press release stating that he has begun construction on a subdivision of the underworld made specially for Bennett and his ownership group. I don't know.
This is the dilemma of a Seattle Sonics fan in 2011.
Court Adjourned.
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