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Forget the Maloofs

A transition to ignoring that which makes us so angry.

Jared Wickerham

First, the news: we're canceling FTM Night. Obviously, the preparation has not been there. That's my fault: I introduced a project I couldn't plan properly. Not that it needed planning per se, but it needed promotion. And that wasn't there. I apologize to any who bought tickets under the idea we'd be getting a lot more fans in the building to thank the Maloofs.I failed.

Part of it was a time crunch. I need, like, six more hours in the day. I'd take two. I need six. But the other part is a lack of motivation to press the issue in this fashion. The sarcastic FTM Night idea requires fuel. We have little fuel other than photos from @ZINGVodka's Twitter feed. The Kings were able to get arena naming rights from a great local company. The Kings have been doing a good job getting tickets sold. The Maloofs aren't popping up in relocation rumors. David Stern is saying nice things about Sacramento. This is all emphatically good.

It's hard to be mad when good things are happening, and I acknowledge that. There's also the phenomenal Here We Stay NBA campaign headed up by those familiar heroes, Blake Ellington and Ed Montes. That's a better use of everyone's resources than even one night worrying about letting the Maloofs know what they're already plainly aware of: we think they stink.

You should also know this has nothing to do with the credential situation, except that it makes me feel incredible worse about costing Greg his chance to cover training camp. As noted before, Aykis and I don't use credentials, though they've been offered for seasons.

Again, apologies for introducing something I could not come through with. I hope many of you will be going to games this season anyway to support the team and enjoy yourself. It's become surprisingly easy for me to forget the Maloofs through preseason and the first game. I can't forget that this is all so tenuous, that next year we could have no season in Sacramento. But I can forget that a bunch of buffoons sign the paychecks.

For now.