Last Fan Standing

I'm not sure if any of you were unlucky enough to poison your intellect and fanhood by reading Jayda Evans' article in the Seattle Times today. If not, here is a brief recap, before I retell it in a much more positive, much more accurate light.

Basically, through "email document confirmation," Jayda was informed that a fan was ejected from the Sonics v. Kings game Sunday night. After reading these email documents, Jayda decided to write an article outlining the event. Let me take a quick step back before I dissect her story. I need to first say that I dislike Jayda Evans as a reporter very much. I've heard she is great lady, I've never met her, but that has nothing to do with this. Her writing style is lifeless, and choppy. She routinely uses nonsensical metaphors, and lame action words. She can't punctuate, or end sentences, and I bet if she didn't have spell check she couldn't spell either. I've disliked her writing for a long, long time, so the fact that she wrote this mediocre article about something that could have been such a rallying cry is simply the straw that broke the camels back (that's a figure of speech Jayda).

Alright, now that that's out in the open, let's talk about the story, the ejection, and why she did everyone, including herself a huge disservice.

A fan named Sam Kidder, who happens to be a friend of mine, was ejected from the Sonics v. Kings game on Sunday night. Sam was heckling Clay Bennett, loudly, right underneath Bennett's suite, and was so brilliant in his badgering of Bennett (Jayda that's alliteration) that he was ejected from the arena. Okay, maybe he was peppering Bennett with cries of "you suck" and "thief", but the fact that he knew Bennett was in the arena was a testament to his fanhood. He read about Bennett's plans to attend this particular home game, only his seventh of the season, when reading up on the team on a website, or as Jayda would call it, an online documentation center. When Clay "Ass Pickles" Bennett could no longer the heat, he had Sam removed. Sam left calmly, and promptly went home and posted on SonicsCentral.com that he was "In Clay's Head."

This is a great story. An inspiring story. A potential rallying point. A fan, the little guy, standing up to the big bad rich owner who wants to move the team. In a city where passion for anything sports related is usually reserved for Super Bowls or 116 win seasons, Sam gave the Sonics all he had in the midst of the teams longest ever losing streak. (Facts Jayda, facts) But instead of focusing on this fantastic display of fanhood, Jayda glossed over Sam's upsides, choosing instead to focus on the fact that he'd had a few beers. Why ignore the parts of the story that make Sam's actions so inspiring? Like the fact that he isn't just some drunk college kid, he is a successful young investment banker with a lot to lose by acting out at sporting events. Or the fact that he has only missed 3 games this season. Or that he is a life long fan, and when he was a kid he'd hold his arms out in front of him like a training boxer while he watched the games, so he could focus harder on what he was watching. But when Jayda interviewed Sam about the incident, she didn't ask him about any of this stuff. She missed the opportunity to use Sam's passion as the spark that it could have been towards a fire of Sonics support.

Even more insane and puzzling to me, is the fact that a beat writer for a team that maybe leaving town wouldn't take every chance to rally fan support for the team he/she covers. You cover the team. If they leave, you don't have a team to cover. If they leave you don't have a job. (Logic Jayda) If you were camping in the woods, and your campfire was on the verge of dying out, would you put more logs on the fire, or just sit there and watch it die? Don't go camping with Jayda, you'll freeze.

If all it takes is reading an article, a couple of beers, and a few well timed verbal punches to get inside the head of the guy that holds the fate of our basketball team in his hands, imagine how easy it would be to create 100 Sam Kidders. And how effective they could be. But in order for the beers and the verbal jabs to be effective, they have to armed with information. And if our most direct source for Sonics information seems to care less than any of the fans, we're just as screwed as Jayda Evans' camp fire. So, like I have so many time before, I implore you...GO TO SONICS GAMES. Get online and read about your team, read about your owner, read about your fans. There is still a fire burning, but it is quickly going out. Fan the flames. (That's a double entendre Jayda)

Spizzy

It's a new year, and along with a clean slate and renewed sense of being, I have a new home. I decided that blogging from my mom's basement was no longer acceptable, I'm going to be 24 this year for god's sake. The number 24 has always been an important number to me, and that age has always made me think of Griffey; his original number and the age at which he became a superstar. Coping with the sad realization that I will not be a superstar at 24 was hard, but getting out of my mom's basement was a big step in the right direction. A step which landed me in a three bedroom apartment on First Hill with my two pals Barry and Tam Johnson. The three of us managed to survive an entire year living together in college, so we decided that now that we are all attempting to tame the "real" world, we should brave the road together again...either that or they got tired of living with their parents too. Although the development of our appartment is still in the embryonic stage, there is a lot of potential. It's like the opening piano riff in "Don't Stop Believing," by Journey, it sounds like it could be good, subtly intruiging, but you're not quite sure yet. Well let me be the first to assure you, just like high pitched croonings of Steve Perry, it's going to be so great it'll annoy you.

The three of us have drawn many comparisons, all of which we agree with fully, and greatly appreciate. The Three Muskateers; flattering, accurate in terms of our bravery and swardsmanship, but we refuse to wear poofy shirts, so it is it tough fit. The Three Amigos; also pretty close. We are all three hilarious, we love sombreros, and we all thrive on horseback, but there isn't a weak link in our chain like Martin Short is to the Three Amigos. Thus the camparison fails. The only one that works is the newest of the popular threesomes, Boston's Big Three of Ray Allen, Paul Pierce and Kevin Garnet. Just like them, we are all three in our prime, we're all unselfish and more interested in winning than personal statistics, and we all look great in green.



It's a perfect fit. The house goes by many names: The Spizzy, Bunkingham Palace, The Teej Mahal, The Bird Nest, the Seattle Three Party, and whatever else we can think of. It's gonna be great, which lands me one step closer to my dream of greatness at 24. Maybe I won't hit 45 home runs, maybe I won't be a millionaire, but I'll have a sweet apartment, with a bunch of funny nicknames. And of course, a poster of Mr. 24, Ken Griffey Jr., just to remind us of what we are shooting for.