Oh, so the Association wants to offer these fools 99% ($74 million) of a $75 million development cost to build a new arena in Sacramento that was agreed to months ago?  Where the River City did EVERYTHING asked of them and then some?



Nope.

Not good enough.

Spare me the platitudes, George, Gavin, and the other bankrupt family members who have had to sell their party casino, beer distributorship, and anything of value as they continue to chase their hope of being Anaheim's attache.

So what are fans in the Sacramento Valley supposed to do now?  Throw their money at this family and hope they have a change of heart (yeah right)?  (Well, they did have a change of heart...to what they really wanted to do in the first place.)

Hope that 29 other owners will be able to prevent them from leaving in this blatant ploy to shore up their own finances at the cost of the Paupers' longest-running home city?

Accept the 2002 Western Conference Finals as a legitimate sporting result?

What else can really be said at this point, the fans did their part, Mayor Kevin Johnson did his part, the NBA was willing to reduce the Maloofs' obligations to negligable...and here we are.

This chapter in the saga is the textbook definition of bawful, ladies and gentlemen.

Labels: beer, conspiracy theories, failure, fan loyalty, historical fail, hypocrites, infamy, Maloof brothers, megalomania, owned, Sacramento Kings, Seattle Supersonics, why don't I have a rich uncle

As talked about here, here, and here, the Pacers held a cookout at Larry Bird's summer home for their season ticket holders. Through sheer luck (and thanks to my buddy G-Mo) I managed to attend and, completely out of character for this site, I can't say a single bad thing about it. It was quite awesome. I'd rank it up there with the invention of Guinness, the thong, the barbecued pig, and whatever else you wanna name.

I approached the event with what is commonly referred to as "cautious enthusiasm", which is fully realizing the cavernous gap in between how spectacular a given event should be, and the disappointing soul-crushing flop it could be. And I began to realize this when we were at the check-in. I had no idea the Pacers' target demographic were retirees and grandmothers. But, then again, these are also the unwavering, die-hard Pacers fans that have fondly remember the ABA championship days and stuck with the team through good times and bad. Especially the bad. But I boarded the shuttle not completely sure if we were going to a cookout or to Old Country Buffet to play bingo.

After an hour on the short bus, cynicism was in full force. Would any players even be at this thing? My doubts were shot down like a JJ Redick trade demand when Larry Bird and Jeff Foster were waiting at the end of the driveway, welcoming guests and taking pictures. Larry greeted us with a handshake and a slap on the shoulder. 14-year-old-fanboy-from-1989-mode was in full effect.

But that's not all. Jim O'Brien, Mike Dunleavy, Roy Hibbert, Brandon Rush, Josh McRoberts and Quinn Buckner were all there as well. And it was an unusually personable environment, probably even more casual than your annual office Christmas party. Burgers and margaritas. Players roaming around, taking photos and chatting it up with the fans. G-Mo half-jokingly asked Foster to put him in a headlock for a photo, which he of course did.

As a side note: I hope Roy Hibbert cleans house this season, if only because he's so damn likable. He's about as unassuming as a 7'2" millionaire can possibly be. One fan mentioned he saw Roy fishing in Larry's backyard lake (Yes. Backyard lake. Larry's house is ginormous.) and he nearly impaled an elderly gentleman with the lure. Roy and G-Mo found they both have a fondness of commercialized Mexican cuisine. A good time was had by all.

In summary, it was undeniably cool. It was a level of player accessibility I didn't know existed. But I could be wrong. Have you had any "NBA players are just plain ol' folks" moments? Tell us about it in the comments!

Labels: fan loyalty, Indiana Pacers, Larry Bird

As punishment for fan whoredom, Lebron wasforced to sit by supernerd Poindexter T. Finkman.

fan whore (fan hor) noun. A fan who either roots for multiple teams or who foresakes certain obligatory loyalties -- such as to the hometown team -- to support another team of his or her own choosing.

Usage example: Lebron James was seen last night rooting for the New York Yankees to beat his hometown Indians. What a fan whore.

Word Trivia: A couple weeks ago, somebody asked me which NBA team I followed. I replied that my favorite teams were the Bulls, Celtics, Jazz, Pacers, Suns, and Spurs. His reaction was priceless; it was like I'd just admitted to eating a live kitten. He wigged out and said, "What a fan whore! You only get to have one favorite team. Choose one and stick with it."

I got the same kind of reaction a few months ago when a guy on the train platform asked me whether I rooted for the Cubs or White Sox. "Well, I live in Chicago," I said, "so I root for both teams." The dude literally jumped up and down like he was stomping huge, poisonous spider. "Are you kidding me? Are you kidding me?! You can't root for the Cubs and the Sox! That's like, it's like rooting for God and Satan. You don't getta be good and evil, kid. You gotta pick one or the other."

Lebron James got a dose of the same medicine last night, when he was seen rooting for the New York Yankees, and thus against the hometown Cleveland Indians. Lebron was even wearing a Yankees hat, and fans started jeering him and chanting "Take of the cap!" One fan even screamed "Go to New York, then" (another fan heard that and said "No, no, please don't"). Today, there are countless stories in the media and across the blogosphere calling James things like "traitor" and "betrayer." The thing is, Lebron's allegience has never been in question; he's a lifelong Yankees fan. So the anti-Lebron uproar is a pretty blatant overreaction. Especially since Lebron isn't really a fan whore, he's more of a bandwagon fan; he's always been a "frontrunner" and therefore footed for the Chicago Bulls, Dallas Cowboys, and Yankees during his teen years.

Frankly, I don't understand the mentality that you can't root for whomever you want. Especially since, logistically speaking, it increases your chances for potential happiness. By rooting for six NBA teams instead of just one, I increase my chances of seeing one of my teams go all the way by 15 percent! (I think; I'm not a mathmologist.) And what if I'd only pulled for the White Sox this year? By rooting for the Cubs and Sox, my baseball-induced misery will ultimately have been postponed almost an entire week. That, my friends, is the sweet smell of success.

Labels: Cleveland Cavaliers, Cleveland Indians, fan loyalty, Lebron James, New York Yankees