FanPost

Message from a longtime Kings fan



Today is one of the saddest days of my life. I am 20 years old, in college, part of a fraternity, involved in school, preparing for my LSATs, and working part-time, yet the news that my Sacramento Kings franchise is packing up and moving North is at the top of my mind. It may seem shallow to care so deeply about a sport or team that exists purely to entertain an audience, but I grew up with the Kings. This team, this franchise, its players, owners, managers, coaches, and fans have been with me since I was born in 1992. I have been to countless Kings game, from Chris Webber’s 52 point-26 rebound game against Indiana, to the triple-overtime game against the Warriors, to sitting courtside watching Tyreke Evans steal the ball from Gilbert Arenas and streak for the game-winning layup against Washington. I have watched every game I could since I was about 5 years old, and the memories and nostalgia tied to this team will live with me forever; but that’s all I have now, memories. I used to take the world’s quickest showers during timeouts of night games to keep from missing even a second of game time or an instant of Grant Napear and Jerry Reynolds banter. When I was especially young, and had to go to bed before the end of the game, I would sneak out my portable radio and listen under my covers until late into the evening on school nights. I have spent so many days grounded by my parents after they came in to check on me at midnight to find me with my headphones wrapped around my body when I would fall asleep listening to Gary Gerould call my team’s games. It seems stupid to get so emotional over sports, but as a fanatic of the game, I know no other way. I have the fondest memories getting cozy under a giant blanket with my parents and 4 siblings to watch close games, my sister yelling at us all to turn down the game when we would listen on the radio during car rides home from dinner, and my own crying when my parents would tell me that my punishment for any fighting or bickering would be to miss a

Kings game. There has always been a certain level of excitement that is unmatched to when my dad would bring home tickets from his office and tell us we could go to Arco Arena and watch “The Greatest Show on Hardwood”. I can name every player to play for the franchise in this millennium, and due to recent events, I honestly don’t think the Maloofs could do the same. I used to love watching Joe and Gavin erupt from the sideline after Jason Williams would hit an ill-advised 30-footer in transition, or after a Chris Webber dunk, Bibby clutch 3-pointer, Doug Christie steal, or any number of late-game heroics during the deep playoff runs of the early 2000s. A Chris Webber and a Bobby Jackson (my all-time favorite King) jersey started my own personal jersey collection and my friends can attest to my wearing that B-Jax Jersey every day of school in 7th and 8th grade. To this day, my most symbolic possessions, the two I spent the most time with growing up: my white (now almost black) Kings Visor that I wore every day of my childhood, and my mini-basketball reserved solely for collecting autographs of my favorite kings: Peja, Vlade, Bobby, Jon Barry, Scot Pollard, Hedo, etc. The Kings were never a team I watched and followed sparingly. They were the reason I would wake up at 6 am to beat my dad to the breakfast table so I could run out and grab the paper off the driveway and read each word before his alarm went off for work. They were the reason I am still friends with so many people I bonded with over the team’s early success. They are the reason I still have issues trusting anyone that sports the vile yellow/purple of my Southern enemies: The Lakers. They are the reason I will never respect Kobe or Shaq, Rick Fox, Samaki Walker, Derek Fisher, and need I say….Robert Horry. They are the reason I have spread my sports knowledge to the other local teams in professional sports, like the 49ers and the Giants. They are the reason for so many happy nights growing up, and so many frustrating nights as of late. I have spent countless hours defending the actions and talent of Tyreke and Demarcus Cousins, Geoff Petrie, and yes, even the Maloofs. The Maloofs have now sold my team, lost millions of their father’s money, ruined their one good investment: the Palms Casino, and have broken, no shattered, the hearts of thousands of Sacramento Kings fans. They are moments away from becoming the most hated villains of my hometown, and I can honestly say that is a bandwagon I have hopped onto and taken charge of. I don’t hate many people, but I hate the Maloof family. I wish Kevin Johnson could find a new local buyer for this franchise, but I also know how small those chances are. I hate the fact that I’m losing hope, but if anyone can keep the Kings here, it’s our 6thman. You better believe my fingers are crossed, and I hope things can only go up from here,

Scott

(This is a FanPost from a member of the Sactown Royalty community. The views expressed come from the member, and not Sactown Royalty staff.)

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