FanNation - The Republic of Sport

Is there any doubt that college hoops, with all its quirks and imperfections, has it hands down over the homogenized, over-processed package served up by the NBA? As if we need another reminder, today's development in the Seattle SuperSonics hostage crisis once again drives the point home.

While college basketball gears up for the passion play known as March Madness, the city of Seattle struggles to raise enough money to renovate KeyArena-- the home of the Sonics-- to prevent team owner Clay Bennett from relocating the club to Oklahoma City. At issue is Bennett's claim that the facility just isn't posh enough to get the job done.

It's enough to make one wonder how the Boston Celtics managed to win all those championships and fill the stands when they played in the decrepit confines of Boston Garden.

But that was back in the day when the game was everything, not the venue. All that was needed was a decent sight line and a place to sit. Call me old fashioned, but don't the nouveau-riche luxuries that coddle fans in today's disposable arenas actually impoverish the game by varnishing over much of the grit that makes sport visceral, grounded, and alive?

KeyArena, originally constructed in 1962, was completely rebuilt and expanded only thirteen years ago at a cost of nearly $100 million, $21 million of which was paid for by the Sonics, the remainder by the city of Seattle. But today the city, in conjunction with four private investors, unveiled a $300 million plan to upgrade the facility yet again, with half that cost being dumped on the taxpayers. Is this a smart move, or will it just encourage the next hijacker a dozen years from now, who may simply feel his franchise can't compete without gold faucets in the luxury suites?

I attended a Sonics game in KeyArena before the 1994/95 renovation and found it just fine, thank you. What struck me was not the facility, but the soulless nature of the game. Don't get me wrong-- it was played with great skill, but little passion. Ironically, the frenzied, near-constant efforts by the game announcer, dancers, and synthesized music to artificially whip the audience into a state of real engagement only made the experience more sterile and empty.

It was a stark contrast to sitting in Jennison Fieldhouse-- a dump if there ever was one-- at Michigan State University watching Magic Johnson, Greg Kelser, and their no-name pals keep everyone on their feet, at full throat, without requiring prompting from management. Yes, the drive to the national championship was compelling, but it was the cherry on the sundae.

The college game was, and remains, emotional, drawing deep connections rooted in tradition, rural (as well as big city) representation, a season short enough to make most games meaningful, rivalries that have been around forever, and a sudden death playoff that makes impossible dreams possible. The players may come and go, but George Mason isn't going anywhere, and didn't we all get a vicarious thrill out of their run in 2006?

The NBA has nothing comparable to offer.

I feel badly for the Sonics fans, but hey, let the mercenaries go. There's a better, less costly show in town just up the road at U-Dub-- and it's got a lifetime commitment to Seattle.