Seattle Sportsnet

I know. I haven’t written very much lately. Thus, I am in no position to tell you what to do. But let’s pretend for the sake of this very moment that the reason I haven’t been writing is because I’ve been preparing myself for this amazing monstrosity of a basketball game, the Feels Like Hardwood Classic.

Yes, people, it’s tonight. The big day has finally arrived. We’re determined to put on a show for you. We’ll sing the national anthem, have a Will Ferrell-esque starting lineup announcement, provide halftime entertainment, and yes, indulge you with our skills on the hardwood. It’s free and it’s amazing. You might even get to see Ryan Divish have a Ron Artest moment or two (and just a reminder, the Ryan Divish Workout Plan is 25 pushups per missed layup, as well as 25 pushups per emotional blow-up).

So come on out to the game tonight (details are below) and join the fun. We’ll be getting drinks at a local watering hole after the game and look forward to hanging out with all of you.

A big thanks to Josh Liebeskind for writing this article about the Dawg Pack and yours truly. I’m no expert on journalism, but if I was in charge of handing out Pulitzers, well, I’d at least consider Josh’s story.

Seriously, though, I’m flattered to have this…thing…I used to do featured in the newspaper of my alma mater. Makes all those classes I skipped (and the two extra years of undergraduate education, my Redshirt and Medical Redshirt years, as I like to refer to them) totally worth it.

Couldn’t be more appreciative of the opportunity to sit down and talk with an up-and-coming writer about the goofy things in my past. Please give the article a read if you get a chance. Thanks!

Take a look at this ESPN poll. Anything seem weird there?

The first time the Zonics come to town to face the Sonics, I plan on blowing this photo up, sticking it on posterboard, and writing YOU PEOPLE ARE IDIOTS underneath. Keep it simple, right?

Bring back our Sonics.

Imagine, for a minute, that I am a pimp boss. I run this town. I oversee all the pimps on these streets and offer them my protection. I also coordinate their hos. Here ho, go to this pimp, he’ll treat you real nice. That’s how I do it.

Now imagine that you are my top pimp. You’re damn good at what you do. You take your hos out to the track on Pacific Highway South and pull in thousands of dollars every single night. I don’t know how you do it, I just know that I get my biggest cut from you, so in turn, I like you. We get along, you and I. I’m a fan of yours. You’re good to me, I’m good to you, it works.

Now let’s pretend that we just got this new chick. She’s fine. Real fine. She probably shouldn’t be doing this, but we don’t tell her that. This girl could be a model if she wanted to be. But for some reason she wants to turn tricks. So whatever, it’s cool. We can help her out. We’ll call her Brandy.

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I’m wearing a Sonics sweatshirt today. It’s green, it has a hood, it zips up, it’s nice.

I wore a Sonics t-shirt yesterday. Grey. It’s my favorite shirt. I wear it every week. There’s a faded stain underneath the screen print that most people don’t notice. I get a little self-conscious about blemishes on my clothing, but this one doesn’t bother me so much.

I have a trash can in my room. It’s a Sonics trash can. Right now it’s lined with a plastic shopping bag from Target. This morning, I noticed the bag was obscuring the green-and-gold logo on the exterior. I rearranged the bag. I want people to see that logo when they walk in.

I have a hoop on my bedroom door. When I dunk on it, I’m Shawn Kemp. When I shoot jumpers, I’m Detlef. When I kiss it off the glass, I’m G.P. When I miss, I’m Sene.

I like to search “seattle sonics” on YouTube and see what comes up. I like to mutter “Suuuuuuuuuuuuuuupersonics” quietly under my breath when no one else is around. I get a little excited when I overhear names like “Eddie Johnson” in casual conversation.

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The NBA likes to pretend we don’t exist. That we don’t care about them and as a result they, in turn, don’t have to care about us. Seattle? Where’s Seattle? Is that a village or something? What is that?

We had our basketball team stolen from us and relocated a thousand miles away in the middle of God-knows-where. That was bad enough, certainly. But it was made worse by the fact that we were repeatedly slandered after the pillaging. That the thieves made off with our prized possession, then tried to convince the masses that we didn’t care about being hijacked. Seattle fans are apathetic, they said. Seattle fans don’t deserve our product. Seattle fans haven’t been showing up to games, or cheering for their team, or even giving a damn about what happens on the court with their Sonics. Seattle fans weren’t good enough, they claimed.

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I am of the belief that the people who read this website are some of the wittiest, most intelligent, best-looking people anyone could ever possibly meet. While your good looks may not play a role in what I’m about to propose to you, your wit and intelligence certainly will.

You see, every year I like to recap the Super Bowl in some form or fashion (here’s an article from last year for reference). This year will be no different. Well, slightly different.

This year, rather than just going on and on about my own opinions of the game, the ads, the halftime show, the Puppy Bowl, the pageantry, the commentators, the event and any of its surroundings as a whole, I want to include all of you, as well. Yes, I’m lazy. I thank you in advance for your help.

For those of you who follow me on Twitter, I’ll be brain-dumping all my immediate thoughts there for the better part of the afternoon. If you’d like to contribute a brief quip that could possibly find its way into the interactive recap, by all means please send those thoughts to @alexssn.

If you don’t have a Twitter account, feel free to participate on Facebook by commenting on the message thread (it will be up later, shortly before kickoff) on the Seattle Sportsnet page.

You guys are awesome and I look forward to hearing what you have to say. Enjoy the day, make sure you drink a lot if you’re a drinker, eat a lot if you’re an eater, and have fun with your friends. Because really, that’s what the Super Bowl is all about. A great effing time.