|Chris Hansen: You won't like him when he's mad. Aw, who are we kidding? We'd totally still love him.|
I was never really a fan of taking the Sacramento Kings. We'd basically be doing the same thing OKC did to us, only we were using the excuse of being honest about it. Well, just because someone warns you before they kick you in the nuts doesn't make it hurt any less.
But this was how you got a team in the harsh 21st century economic reality of the NBA. Kill or be killed. Every basketball fan for themselves. No survivors. WOLVERINES!
Sure, I wasn't real happy about how this sausage was being made, but after a few years in the NBA wilderness, I'd probably pinch my nose and eat it.
So when the NBA relocation committee (consisting of a whopping seven team owners, including good ol' Clay-face) announced on Monday afternoon they had ruled against the Kings moving to Seattle, I admit I was a little glad I wouldn't have to abandon what little scruples I had left in regards to finally getting a replacement for my dearly departed Seattle Supersonics.
The best chance we had at snagging another city's team was gone. Five years of anxiously hovering like hungry vultures over dying basketball franchises was history. And the NBA had stated clearly that expansion, the only truly guilt-free way to enjoy the Sonics in Seattle again, was not going to happen. So it was over.
Well, at least I was now free to unleash my full hatred upon the NBA. Or, you know, not watch as many regular season games. Perhaps I could finally find some peace. Or maybe even a new sport. I wonder if Seattle has a professional handball team?
But then, something crazy happened.