There was no naivety, however. Every fan in the building that night had an inkling the team could be moved in the offseason. But the prevailing thought was that they’d stick around, that the legal system, if nothing else, would bestow at least one more year of Sonics basketball unto Seattle.
Still, the audience took no chances.
In the waning moments of the season’s final contest, the capacity crowd began chanting “Save our Son-ics.” It was a murmur, at first. But then it grew, as all good chants seem to, spreading from section to section, filling the cheap seats and skyboxes alike, covering each crevice and corner inside Key Arena until every last basketball fan in the building spoke in unison.
At the epicenter, atop the hardwood floor that gave the room its heartbeat, there stood a young man, still a teenager, who heard every word the crowd shouted.