SEATTLE — When the SuperSonics left here in 2008, Brent Barry felt it in his gut. There was an emptiness, a sadness so pronounced that he was moved to put pen to paper.
At the time, Barry was preparing for training camp with the San Antonio Spurs, but part of his heart was still in Seattle, a bond forged through his five seasons as a wing with the Sonics. Now the team was no more thanks to an abrupt transaction that uprooted the franchise to Oklahoma City.
Barry’s mind was numbed with a blur of memories he captured in his poem, “When It Rains.”
“… and here I sit in my office space and think of my career
And what to say to my two sons, did the team just disappear?
I played in KeyArena, I live on Queen Anne Hill
I played pinball at Shorty’s after games, and ate burgers at both Red Mills
I would have some chowder down at Dukes, and watch Sea Planes take their flight
And find myself in Fremont if I needed a beer that night
I saw Star Wars at Cinerama, tossed a pitch at Safeco Field,
Drove all the way to Bellingham to see Pearl Jam and Yield …”
Sixteen years later, a collection of Sonics jerseys extends wall-to-wall inside the Simply Seattle store downtown. From Detlef Schrempf to Gary Payton to Ray Allen to Kevin Durant, the jerseys of Sonics legends are still a hot commodity.
“We get people from New Zealand, London, from all over,” store manager Kate Wansley said. “The Sonics are a big thing, and now everyone is excited about what could happen.”
What could happen has many in this Northwest metropolis tense with anticipation. In September, NBA commissioner Adam Silver said the league would address NBA expansion at some point this season, which prompted an already simmering movement in Seattle to bubble over.
Since 2008, Seattle has been waiting, expecting a franchise to return. And now, with overtures of the NBA’s first expansion since 2004, there is an overriding sentiment that Seattle is due.
“There’s just too much karma that says put a team back in Seattle,” says George Karl, who coached the Sonics from 1992-98, leading them to an NBA Finals appearance in 1996. “I don’t know more than anybody else, but my feeling is … that it can happen. It should happen.”
Karl is sipping iced tea and soaking in a picturesque view of Seattle’s Elliott Bay on a sun-splashed Thursday. He lives in Denver but is in town to help promote, support and encourage Seattle’s candidacy should Silver and the NBA Board of Governors decide to proceed with expansion.
As the Seahawks played host to the San Francisco 49ers at Lumen Field, Karl and former Sonics players Dale Ellis and Rashard Lewis attended a social event on the 75th floor of the Columbia Tower that included Seattle mayor Bruce Harrell, Seattle Sports Commission president and CEO Beth Knox and several business leaders.
“It’s a lot of anticipation; I feel like we are hanging on the edge of our seats, waiting,” Knox said. “We are ready.”
The event was important enough for Harrell that he postponed plans for his 66th birthday (he was quick to note he shared his birthday with Sonics legend Gus Williams) so he could spread what he calls “the buzz” about Seattle’s viability for expansion.
“We need to make sure the decision-makers — the NBA commissioner, the administration and co-owners — realize this is a very attractive market, and we have the fan base,” Harrell said. “They sort of know it, but this was 2008 when we lost the team, and we have a whole new generation of people in town, so we need to assure them we have that kind of spirit.”
In September, Silver tempered expectations when he said the league “is not quite ready” to discuss expansion before adding that eventually it will be broached. “What we’ve told interested parties is: ‘Thank you for your interest, we will get back to you,’ ” Silver said. “That’s certainly the case in Seattle.”
Still, hopes haven’t been this high here since 2013, when a bid to relocate the Sacramento Kings to Seattle reached a vote of NBA governors but was turned down 22-8 after Sacramento came up with new ownership.
Ellis, who played for seven NBA teams, said the city’s diversity, food and fan base kept him in Seattle for 20 years after his career ended. The 41-year history of the franchise, which includes the 1979 NBA title, is why he believes so passionately that the league should return. It’s why he flew to Seattle to support Thursday’s movement, a movement that he says stands more than a chance of landing a return of the Sonics.
“Chance? No, it’s going to happen. It’s going to happen,” Ellis said. “They just haven’t made the announcement yet. There will be two franchises, one here in Seattle, and one in Las Vegas.”
Like so many former Sonics players and coaches, Barry felt he didn’t just play in Seattle, he felt he was part of Seattle. So losing the Sonics felt like losing part of himself.
It is that player-community connection that has made this movement to revive the Sonics unique. Other cities have lost NBA franchises — Vancouver, San Diego, Kansas City — but none have had former players and coaches campaigning for a return like Seattle.
Lewis, who played his first nine NBA seasons with the Sonics, flew into Seattle from Houston motivated by two factors: the history and the fans.
“Seattle has a part of me; I became a man here,” Lewis said. “And the fans … I still remember Big Lo (super fan Lorin Sandretzky), and fans pulling up to the airport when we arrived. There’s history, so much history here, and that’s why they have to have a team here.”
The 1990s in particular were a magical time for Seattle. Microsoft was booming. Bands from Seattle — Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Alice In Chains, Soundgarden — were leading the grunge explosion. “Singles” and “Sleepless in Seattle” hit movie screens. Ken Griffey Jr. was a superstar. And Payton, Kemp and the fiery Karl were headlining SportsCenter highlights.
“It all had this mystical essence to it,” Barry said. “Because nobody wanted to go to the Pacific Northwest. It was so far away, the weather was bad … but there was a lot of cool stuff happening in and around that place. So it had this mystical quality to it.”
Added Karl: “The city was blossoming, the music was blossoming, the city was growing, the Mariners were good … everything was just in rhythm. There was a rhythm that Seattle was cool. Pearl Jam, Starbucks, (Microsoft’s Steve) Ballmer … and (the Sonics) were good.
“Unfortunately, Michael (Jordan) was in the league.”
The electricity between the Sonics and the Seattle scene made for lasting bonds. For fans and the players.
“Spilling out from KeyArena after a game meant that you were in the bloodstream of the city,” said Barry, now an assistant coach with Phoenix. “You got out of the arena and you could walk across the street to Lazy J’s (Jalisco’s) and do karaoke with a bunch of fans who were just at the game. You could go to First Street and hop into a steakhouse and have a meal with fans who just left the game.
“To lose all that … it was a gut punch to a city that loved basketball, loved its team and had a relationship with the team that was unique.”
Portland Trail Blazers play-by-play announcer Kevin Calabro, who announced Sonics games for 22 years, said fans still ask him regularly if and when the Sonics will return, which is attributed to the connection formed during those memorable years in the 1990s.
“You had this great amalgam of cutting-edge technology with the internet coming to life and this great music scene and the Sonics bursting at the seams,” Calabro said. “And it all came together on winter nights at The Barn, as we used to call KeyArena. Jeff Ament (Pearl Jam bassist) was down in the baseline seats all the time, Eddie Vedder (Pearl Jam singer) was around, Screaming Trees … all these bands would show up.
“And when George Karl took over, it just lit a fire. There were so many great characters … and they were all involved with the community. You could feel them, touch them, see them at the clubs, hang with them. It was special.”
Wansley, the store manager who hangs the Sonics jerseys from wall to wall, is a lifelong Seattle resident. She said her deepest bonds are with the Sonics because she experienced them in everyday life. She saw Nate McMillan and Sam Perkins at Bellevue Square, Kemp and Gary in the store, Dana Barros here, Schrempf there.
“It was something that just connects you to them,” Wansley said. “You would go to the game, then see them out … and I don’t know how it is in other cities, but they were just out in the community so much. It would be like, ‘Hey, I just saw you play …’ ”
Seattle has been down this road of anticipation before. The 2013 bid to relocate the Kings to Seattle was so close to happening — and so ugly in its particulars — that its downfall left some scars.
But the overall sentiment today is that Seattle is well positioned, if not a leader when expansion becomes a reality. Much of the optimism stems from Climate Pledge Arena, the refurbished KeyArena, which now houses the NHL’s Seattle Kraken.
“There literally hasn’t been a week where I haven’t been asked about the Sonics or the NBA or how we got screwed,” said Bob Whitsitt, who was president and general manager of the Sonics from 1986-94. “And for years, I said to them — right or wrong — that Seattle was not in a position to even be considered for a team until they have an NBA-ready facility.
“And that giant hurdle has now been cleared with Climate Pledge Arena. As a city, we know we have a facility that works. That doesn’t guarantee you a team, but you can be guaranteed not to get a team by not having a facility. So, the biggest thing has been taken off the board.”
Whitsitt still lives in Seattle and said he is encouraged by a potential ownership group led by Kraken owners David Bonderman and his daughter, Samantha Holloway. Bonderman also is a minority owner of the Boston Celtics.
“My support is behind them,” Whitsitt said. “They are the right ones. They are the perfect people to lead the thing. And the Seattle market is not only great, it is ready.”
Last month, more than 18,000 sold out the LA Clippers and Trail Blazers exhibition game at Climate Pledge Arena, which more than caught the eye of coaches Chauncey Billups of the Blazers and Tyronn Lue of the Clippers.
“I mean, everybody talks about it,” Billups said. “This is obviously a desired city, a market that people love … it makes the most sense. It’s already been very successful, the market has, so it makes a lot of sense. We just have to wait on it.”
Added Lue: “It’s a great environment, a great place to play … they’ve done a great job with this arena.”
Brian Robinson, a Seattle real estate investor, heads Seattle NBA Fans, the group that hosted the event with Karl, Lewis, Ellis and the mayor. He has 250 community leaders and 50 CEOs behind his movement. He also headed a 2010 group that tried to find an arena solution to lure the Sonics back. He said then, it was difficult to get business leaders and companies behind him.
“Now, no one ever says no,” said Robinson, 51. “People see the change in tone from the commissioner and they see a path. Everyone wants to be a part of it. I just feel like the people of Seattle are over the negativity and they are ready to have this journey be something meaningful.”
Mayor Harrell and Knox, the CEO of the Seattle Sports Commission, are envisioning a future where Sonics players become role models and inspire youth to not only participate in basketball, but dream. Seattle has a long history of producing NBA talent, including Brandon Roy, Jason Terry, Jamal Crawford, Paolo Banchero and Dejounte Murray. Barry thinks the Sonics can help inspire others.
“How do you dream bigger if you don’t see it in front of you?” Barry asked. “I was thinking if I never went to Golden State games as a kid to watch Chris Mullin, Tim Hardaway and Mitch Richmond, how much of my devotion and love of the game would have been depleted by not having the touch, the autograph, the memories? The impact can’t be overstated.
“There’s almost 20 years of kids in Seattle who never saw one game in their city of LeBron James, one of the greatest players who ever played. Twenty years of kids, and parents for that matter, who haven’t had that community, that environment, that experience. It hurts.”
Last month, Barry thought back to the day when he penned the “When It Rains” poem. He rifled through his files and found it.
“Even reading it again, I was like, ‘Man, I still feel this way. It sucks,” Barry said. “I was sad. Legitimately sad. But right now, I don’t think there has ever been more sentiment or momentum than right now. And I hope it’s not another carrot in front of the rabbit situation. I hope this momentum is true and honest and there is potential for the green and gold to be back there.”
It was the same thought he had 16 years ago, in San Antonio as he closed his poem.
“… A chapter left unwritten, a generation with a gap,
Forty-one years of NBA action and now no one can clap
But here is a silver lining … above every cloud’s a sun
And the possibility is something we hold on to even if slim to none
For faith and hope and love are tenants
Of the days as one grows old
And for all at stake, those clouds will break
And we will see the green and gold.”
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