Supersonic NBA tragedy: Love has been cast into a monument, hatred is not healed

On the other end of the Ballard Bridge, just a few miles from the home court of Seattle's most popular professional team, is located at the Mike Chili House. This 103-year-old small bar has become a gathering place for Supersonics fans to vent their emotions during the NBA Finals in the past week.

49-year-old Jason Parkert wore a green and yellow hat with the words "Super Sonics" and a T-shirt of the same theme, with Sean Camp and Payton printed on it, because the Seattle team from the 90s meant a lot to him. Mike Ciali, 50, watched the first and fourth games, wearing an Ansu Sesai jersey in white, green and yellow colors... Well, there is only one reason to wear the Sesai jersey: Ciali is still a big fan of the Supersonics.

31-year-old Nate Bucks wore a grey supersonic hoodie and shorts in the same color as the Ciali jersey, paying tribute to the supersonic team led by Ray Allen in the early 2000s. Mike Semandry, 59, watched the fourth game, because his family owned the bar since 1922, and because he still remembers the scene when the Supersonics won the NBA championship in 1979, skipping classes to watch the parade.

The bar was full in the fourth quarter of Game 4 of the NBA Finals last Friday. It vividly captures what's going on in Seattle right now: It's a second finals as the Thunder after the team moved from Seattle to Oklahoma City in 2008, and is now fighting the Indiana Pacers. The Seattleites never stopped supporting their Supersonics. However, the Thunder's finals' sights, the practice of confusing the history of the two teams during the broadcast, and the military expansion issues to be discussed at the July League meeting have rekindled the city's enthusiasm and turned these finals into unofficial "Supersonic Nostalgia Nights."

However, among the customers of Chili Restaurant and the Supersonic fans throughout the Pacific Northwest, another emotion surged during the finals: the resentment caused by heartbreak.

It was this resentment that caused Halliburton to burst into high-high, hugs and cheers in the bar after the first key ball hit. It was this resentment that caused a local sportswear company to post relevant pictures on social media immediately after the Pacers' first victory. It was this resentment that made a man in the corner of the bar wear a white T-shirt with the supersonic logo and the words "Boycott Starbucks". It was this resentment that made Siakam's every fall jump shot and every fake fall of Alexander aroused a strong instinctive reaction. It was this resentment that often filled the tweets of the beloved former Seattle Seahawks player Taylor Lockett supporting the Thunder.

Seattle loves its Supersonics, but it also hates the Thunder, Clay Bennett, Howard Schultz, David Stern and everyone involved in the ugly "divorce" that left them all memories.

"I've been scared all year long and I'm pretty sure they'll win," said Kevin Jackson, 55, a Seattle native. "If they win, it's a heartbreaking sporting moment." The Thunder led 3-2 on the verge of tearing the hearts of Seattle again on the eve of Game 6 Thursday.

"After all, it's realizing how heartbreaking it would be if Oklahoma City won the championship," said Bucks. "I don't think any fan of the Thunder deserves a championship. That's not their team. I know it might be a bit crazy to say that, but it's my selfishness, maybe a little crazy. I just hope the Pacers win. I don't think they deserve a championship, a ring, a parade, and nothing." The Supersonics have a history before the Seattle Mariners and Seattle Seahawks, and when their NBA championships were born, the MLB and NFL teams here were still in their infancy. There was a generation of Seattlers who were old enough to remember the days when the city had only the Supersonics, and their careers as professional sports fans began with legends such as Freddy Brown, Donald Watts and Gus Williams. The younger generation fell in love with Payton, Camp, Nate McMillan and Detleff Schlumpf, and later Ray Allen, Brent Barry and Rashad Lewis.

's deep-rooted love for the Supersonics has led to the city's basketball talents emerging. The Greater Seattle area has been sending players to the NBA for decades; there are currently several active players from the region, with Orlando Magic forward Paul Bankairo being the best. The road from Seattle to the NBA has its own community in this city, and Jamal Crawford can be called the "godfather" of all this.

Seattle has no official NBA team for 17 years, but there are still podcasts dedicated to telling the history of the Supersonics. There is the "Seattle NBA Fans", a volunteer league dedicated to gathering support before the team returns. There is the "Super Sonics Legend Fund" that provides financial assistance to former players, and there is also a documentary about how it all happened.

There are signature events for Supersonics legendary stars, and the live broadcast of the 90s classic playoff matches that hundreds of people participated in. Former players like Payton, Schlumpf, Camp and Lewis are still actively influencing the community, as are the two coaches who led the Supersonics to the finals, Lanny Wilkens and George Carr.

"It's the most popular team the city has ever seen," said Parker, who has been a local sports talk radio host in Seattle for two decades and started the podcast last year. "Because this connection started many years ago, spanning so many generations of fans."

The local sportswear company sells more products around the Supersonics team every year than the combined sales of all other Seattle teams.. According to Jack Smit, the company’s vice president of products, in two of the past four years, it has generated nearly $1 million in revenue by selling supersonic merchandise alone. “Seattle is a basketball city,” Smit said.

Kamp and Payton's jerseys are their most popular merchandise, reflecting the fond memories of the Supersonics and the cherishment of the iconic image of that team in the 90s.

The company's customized products in recent years include the "We Are Ready" T-shirts launched before the renovation and renaming of the Key Stadium. “That was one of the most popular shirts we’ve ever made,” Smit said.

43-year-old Seattle native Kenji Osawa, who runs an account with 43,000 followers, regularly posts about the team, reminding people how the Supersonics have left the legacy and culture of basketball for the city. “They are very approachable,” said Ozawa, founding consultant for the Seattle NBA Fans. “I feel like they are more of a part of the community than any other professional team in Seattle. They are active on various occasions and feel like they are one of us, and the huge community attributes are crucial to the city.”

“I think of an entire generation of kids who grew up here without NBA basketball,” said Jackson, who had served as an executive at ESPN and FOXSports. “It makes me sad.” In the NBA Finals promotional video before the first game, the station played a photo of Jack Hickma hugging Dennis Johnson and Johnson celebrating the team’s championship. The right side of the picture reads "1979 Seattle Supersonics" and is equipped with a team logo.

Whenever two teams are treated as the same team, these moments are still a pain point in the hearts of Supersonic fans.

"It's a bit ridiculous to be so excited about it," said Mike Gastino, 65, who has been a talk show host for Supersonics Flagship Radio for 21 years. "People say 'let go', and I think there are some things in life that you just can't let go, even if you know that letting go may be the best choice."

Because many Seattle people can never let go, every loss of the Thunder is regarded as a major moment. The Thunder’s success is a reminder of what Seattle might have. Therefore, their failures deserve celebration.

"Every time they make the playoffs," Jackson said, "I hold my breath until they lose."

fans who might not have watched the Finals were actively cheering for the Miami Heat in 2012. Thompson's jersey retired from his alma mater, scoring 41 points against the Thunder in Game 6 of the 2016 Western Conference Finals, helping the Golden State Warriors eventually win the series, and he has since become the gods in Seattle. Damian Lillard waved goodbye to eliminate the Thunder with a winning three-pointer in the first round of the 2019 playoffs, and at that moment he also became a Seattle hero.

For some, the city, more than 2,000 miles from Indianapolis, is desperate to see Halliburton and his Pacers make a comeback so they can join the Thunder Killer club.

"It's a very worthy resentment," said Ciley. "There are not many resentments worthy of. This is one of them." What makes it even more painful to see Oklahoma City so close to winning is that this may happen when the expansion and the Supersonics return are near. The NBA president said he expects the board of directors to discuss military expansion at a meeting next month. Seattle is eagerly looking forward to the return of the Supersonics, and if their city is included in the military expansion plan, the entire city will be rejoiced when officially announced.

But if this news happened in the same year as the Thunders’ championship, it would be a cruel irony.

"If the expansion happens now and they win the championship this year, it's like another stab in the wound," Parkert said.

Sonics fans will not give up on the Pacers' hope of winning, just as they never give up on their hopes for NBA expansion. Their enthusiasm is too strong. It was this passion that drove Siri to roar at the TV at the Chili Pavilion, when Obi Topin scored two consecutive three-pointers in the fourth quarter of the fourth game - which triggered a unanimous shout from the "Come on the Pacers!" in the bar. If it weren't for the Supersonics costumes, passers-by might have mistakenly thought that the Pepper House was a fan club for the Pacers.

But with enthusiasm, there is pain. When Mathering missed the free throw in the last 23 seconds of the fourth game, the entire bar was filled with collective and frustrated "ah..." sounds. Then he lost another free throw. A few seconds later, Matherin missed again. The bills were paid, the coat was put on his shoulders, and the people in the bar began to disperse. The first watch party ended with passion, while the fourth watch was frustrating.

At this time, Semandri stood up and informally represented the entire city, allowing the fire of hope to continue to burn.

"Okay," Semandri shouted, "Goodbye on Thursday's sixth!"

(text/Kong Yang)