Post by TheShadow on Jul 5, 2008 21:19:14 GMT -5
www.insidebayarea.com
By Monte Poole
Oakland Tribune columnist
THE TRUE SPORTS fan loves and hates his or her team. Kicks it and hugs it. Berates it and defends it.
But the true fan does not neglect or abandon.
So the worst thing in the world for the true fan is not having to relive that heartbreaking loss. Nor is it standing by helplessly as a beloved icon fades into retirement. Nor is it seeing the franchise player go down, stay down and get wheeled out of view.
No, the worst thing of all is when you come home one day and the entire team has walked out.
The latest to be abandoned are the fans of Seattle, who were powerless to stop the SuperSonics from up and leaving. Thousands in the Pacific Northwest are only beginning to confront the despair many in the Bay Area felt 26 years ago.
The Sonics were Seattle's first professional sports franchise, born long before the Mariners or Seahawks, even before the brief fly-by of baseball's Seattle Pilots. The Sonics were in town before anyone had conceived the first of a coffee palace named Starbucks.
And now they're gone.
Vanished.
After 41 years in Seattle, representing the region, bonding with communities, connecting with fans.
They played the 2007-08 season in Seattle, they'll play the 2008-09 season in Oklahoma City.
A smooth billionaire named Clay Bennett, having bought the team two years ago from Starbucks chief Howard Schultz, cut a deal the other day to terminate the team's lease at KeyArena, allowing him to move to his hometown the only organization to bring a world championship to Seattle.
With a judge prepared to issue a ruling, Seattle Mayor Greg Nickels and Bennett reached a settlement that effectively sends the Sonics into the heartland for a maximum of $75 million.
"We made it," Bennett said, grinning during a news conference in Oklahoma City.
"Sorry for your loss," Mayor Nickels could have said to the many NBA fans in the region.
The fans, however, have no idea where they're headed.
We, of course, have a pretty good idea.
When the Raiders left Oakland in 1982 it was as if a member of the family had been snatched away before our eyes. True fans were left to wait for a phone call that wouldn't come. Such was the sense of loss that NFL Sundays that year — and for many years to follow — were downright funereal.
Because the Raiders were the East Bay's first pro team. While the A's were transplanted from Kansas City and the former San Francisco Warriors did their best to straddle the Bay Bridge, the Raiders were born and raised on East Bay Grease.
The 49ers belonged to San Francisco. Besides, they wanted no part of the Raiders.
The A's were the local baseball team, the Warriors the local basketball team.
The Raiders were a civic institution, a local passion.
They were compatible with the city, a snug fit for the blue-collar, take-no-mess mentality that ran along the 880 corridor, from the Carquinez Bridge to the Fremont-Milpitas border. The Raiders never had to take the pulse of the region because they dictated the pulse of the region.
They not only played here but also settled here. They lived here, worked here, drank here, fought here and slept here. Center Jim Otto and running back Clem Daniels operated businesses in the East Bay. Fred Biletnikoff was affiliated with The Flanker, a bar-restaurant off Hegenberger Road. Guard Gene Upshaw and his brother, Marvin, operated a night spot, Uppy's, on Jack London Square.
The boss, Al Davis, was a frequent visitor to the likes of Vince's on East 14th Street, a five-minute drive from the Coliseum.
Everybody, of course, went to Ricky's.
So when they left for Los Angeles, the region mourned. And heartbroken fans who sold out every game, treasured their season tickets, experienced the times of their lives, reacted as family does upon the death of a beloved member.
Some were bitter, lashing out at Al for leaving, slinging hatred at local politicians for opening the door.
The vast majority was distraught, many slipping into a prolonged period of numbness.
While most eventually recovered, some never did. Some will not watch these new Raiders, will not support them, having made a pact with themselves never to give another dollar to the organization that walked out.
And to think, the Raiders moved just down the highway.
The Sonics are moving nearly 2,000 miles away.
As if that will make the emptiness any easier to endure.