Police drag H&F out of Key Arena on final Sonics game

by Hotdog

When Constable Echelon and I decided to stage a sit-in at the end of the final Sonics game in Seattle, we really underestimated how afraid of prison we were.

It started rather innocuously – Constable and I, soaking it up at a window table at Floyd’s Place, dancing around the inevitable. At the end of the day, I think we were both sure that the Sonics were about to play their last game at Key Arena. However, we were committed to enjoy the last game to the fullest as we chit-chatted with the locals about half-hearted attempts to stage a protest during the game.

When we got to our seats, we were pleased to see we were sitting directly in front of the Dallas Mavericks play-by-play team. (If there are any readers of H&F in the Dallas-Fort Worth area, please let us know if any of our rantings made it on the air. Listener’s note: At one point, the announcer called a Dirk Nowitzki three  a “25-footer” – a gross overstatement. We made sure to note this as the game went on.)

The first three quarters of the game were fairly standard NBA fare – one team played well, the other team matched them with a run, and a bunch of tall people made lots of baskets. (I got some nachos and some beer. The Boom Squad freaked juice all over the court. They gave away a lot of crap and I got none of it. The announcers refused to give us some of their baby-size bottles of water. I thought about jumping onto the blimp.) It wasn’t until the fourth quarter that things got interesting.

When it became apparent the Sonics had a chance to win, the almost capacity crowd (ps: where did these people come from? there weren’t but 10-11k fans at the beginning of the game) started making its voice heard, with chants of “Clay Bennett Sucks” spreading over the Arena. Even parents turned a blind eye when their impressionable young children lustily joined the chant.

K-Dur played out of his mind down the stretch, hitting an important shot down the stretch (I do not remember the details except that it was awesome and I freaked out), and giving the Sonics the lead with only 10 seconds remaining. It was then when the loyal Sonics crowd began the loudest ”Save Our Sonics” chant, with the entire crowd joining in. Even K-Dur encouraged the crowd by waving us on during the timeout. 

The Sonics went on to win the game, with a Nick Collison free throw sealing the deal. However, when the Mavericks foolishly called a timeout with 1.1 second left, the weak-willed Sonics sound guy played a rock song over the PA to preempt another full-blooded rendition of S.O.S. Shameful on the part of the Sonics – it’s clear many of the employees are on a tight leash.

However, it was the end of the game that provided the real fireworks. Contsable turned to me and asked if I had anything to do tomorrow. I said no (work doesn’t count) and we pledged to stay until “they carried us out”. Here’s how that went.

The stadium cleared out pretty quickly and soon we were the only people left in our section. A few different ushers entreatied us to leave but we would have none of it, feigning deafness. The staff gradually became more forceful, with a nice Asian man coming over to tell us we had to leave so the Arena could get ready for His Holiness the Dalai Lama and the Seeds of Compassion tour. Confronted by the face of peace and understanding in the modern world, we stuck to our guns. Surely if anyone could understand the importance of making a stand it was DL.

It got hotter not much later. Another usher in a faggy green shirt told us we had to leave, flanked by SPD officer B. Larson. B. Larson was less than amused by our antics. Terms such as “criminal trespass” were thrown out. We inquired into our chances of being tasered. 

Soon, B. Larson was on the radio with his bacon buddies, apprising them of the situation. At this point, I was pretty sure Constable was going to say something that would lead us to prison and the inevitable anal-raping to ensue. The air thickened…

We bargained. We asked to move down to the corners, where some remaining fans loitered. They have passes, B. Larson said. Umm – where can we get one of those passes? No dice. The air continues to thick.

It soon became apparent this wasn’t going to be the grand, noble gesture we imagined. More cops came. I began to imagine what life would be like as an ex-con. Could I finally get a tattoo and not feel like a fraud? Would chicks dig it and want to do things to my pee-pee? Unlikely. Additionally, my personal commitment started to fade when I realized how much I had to pee.

The night ended with Constable and I physically being escorted out of Key Arena. You may have won this round, Clay Bennett, but it’s not over. We’ll see you in court.

“Oh look at me I’m a huge bitch and I couldn’t post up Constable if my life depended on it.” -Clay Bennett