It’s official. The city of Seattle, having completely blown their legal case, settles up with the Sonics owners for $45M and the SuperSonics name.

I’d love to say that this is horrible, but hasn’t anyone watched the last 11 or so years of Sonics basketball? Shawn Kemp’s kids? The inexplicable signing of Jim McIlvane? Draft picks that were either rough and unready teenagers or European players that barely knew how to play — when they actually signed with the team? Howard Schultz running off Nate McMillan and ultimately handing the team to a bunch of Oklahoma City businessmen and scurrying back to Starbucks where he’s done nothing but continue SBUX’s run into the ground?

It’s sad to say this, but good riddance. I’ll always remember ‘96, but the Sonics have turned into that girlfriend you’ve had that just let herself go, sits on the couch all day, gets stoned, and ultimately tells you she’ll dump you for that guy down the street unless you start giving her more and more expensive toys. Ultimately, the only thing you can do is point at the door and maybe call and tell the guy to swing by Tiffany on the way back.

And about this guy, er, city. Oklahoma City.

Truck stop to the world,
Call center, Flamer of Lips,
Player with Freeways and the Nation’s Cherry Limeade maker;
Sucky, soulless, boring,
City of the Big Slouchers:

Having grown up in Tulsa, well, of course I hate Oklahoma City. It’s a suburb in search of a city, a vast array of strip malls, tract housing, and interstates that were being continually rebuilt my entire childhood. Urban renewal usually meant a tornado plowing through town. Home to the Oklahoman, or Jokelahoman as we used to call it, which the Columbia Journalism Review once dubbed the Worst Newspaper In America. OKC was always the city in search of a soul and a purpose. Tulsa had the ballet, the opera, the art museums. Oklahoma City had the Cowboy Hall of Fame.

In some ways OKC is the mirrorverse Seattle. Republican, sprawling, flatter than flat, a bus system that doesn’t really go anywhere. And yet… you see one similarity with Seattle — they want to be something else. Seattle was founded on the idea of “New York by and by,” but that has in the end meant striving so hard to be big that it never really figured out how to do it sanely. Oklahoma City was founded in a day during the Land Rush, and since then it’s been trying to be a big city, but never has quite figured out what it meant. Both Seattle and Oklahoma City have done their best to knock down anything pretty in the name of progress. Both live in the shadow of larger, more global cities (Vancouver/Dallas) and smaller, artsier, happier with their lot towns (Portland/Tulsa).

So, yeah. The Sonics are gone. Off to the giant truck stop in the middle of the plains, where they will be begging Tulsans and Lawtonites and McAlesterans and Woodwardians to make the drive into the City, pay $150 a seat, buy a $10 small popcorn, and watch the NBA paste their asses 41 games a year. And us? Well, if we want to, I guess we can rebuild the Key, steal ourselves another NBA team, and make some other town unhappy.

In the end, though, we’re keeping Seattle, our ugly, lovely town amid the hills and lakes and trees. The Sonics, meanwhile, get Oklahoma City, out of which only four good things have come: The Flaming Lips, I-35, I-40, and I-44.

I think that’s a pretty fair trade.

PS to Mr. Tramel: Sorry, the guilt goes with the team. And also, all the crappiness we’ve seen the last 11 years. Enjoy.

Rumors are flying. The Seattle PI just posted this tidbit, 9 minutes before the final results are posted:

A source told the P-I the agreement will allow Clay Bennett to take the franchise to Oklahoma City, while leaving behind the Sonics’ name and history along with a cash settlement in the $75 million range.

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Bill Lyon, a much-missed retired scribe for one of the East Coast papers, told this story about baseball managers awhile back:

In 1963, Bobby Bragan, the recently-hired replacement manager for the hapless Milwaukee Braves, found two envelopes in his desk, marked #1 and #2. A cover note from Bragan’s predecessor, Birdie Tebbetts, said this: “Open only in emergencies.”

The Braves continued to free-fall. A worried Bragan opened the first envelope, and found this message: “Blame it on me.” More losses followed. Finally, Bragan opened the second envelope, and read: “Prepare two envelopes.”

—

There’s no real point to firing manager John McLaren [mb], but he’s become the latest ritual sacrifice on the altar of the Mariners’ continued suck. The new guy might as well have his jersey manufactured by Manpower Inc., since he’ll doubtless be replaced in turn as soon as a new permanent GM is hired.

Here’s an idea: what if we started replacing the guys who can’t hit and aren’t pitching well? Just a thought.

Meantime, for John McLaren: Thanks for trying. You deserved better. Go prepare two envelopes.

The Mariners fired manager John McLaren this morning.

The march to the guillotine continues at 1st and Edgar Martinez Drive.

This Saturday is the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure at Qwest Field. If you’re looking for something to do early Saturday morning, please consider coming out and supporting the Race for the Cure. If you’re not into running/walking the 5K, you can always volunteer or Sleep In For The Cure (you can pay the fee and receive a shirt, but not have to show up to the race). 75 percent of the money raised from this race stays in Puget Sound to help women in our area. The rest goes to support national breast health programs and research to find a cure. If everyone participating in the race raises $150 (the cost of a mammogram), more than $2 million will be collected.

I will be there running in memory of Gretchen Mathers an amazing woman I had the great pleasure of knowing and working with who passed away last August from her battle with breast cancer. Also, I’ll be running in honor of a number of my relatives who have survived their battles.

Photograph from the 2007 Race For the Cure courtesy of dierken.

In addition to the M’s need for a new general manager, they now need a new center fielder. As one of the only bright spots on a suffering baseball team, Ichiro was moved back to his natural hunting grounds of right field.

Wait, don’t the M’s already have a couple of guys who can play center?

Well, sure. Jeremy Reed and Willie Bloomquist. Reed has a decent batting average for a bad team, .275, but he struggles a bit with covering all the acreage of center field. Bloomquist is a fast sprinter, but is hitting a measely .189 this season and generally does better as a utility infielder. Nobody’s being set on fire by the choices here.

Ken Griffey Jr.’s name came up again in news stories this morning, but they can’t be serious: yeah, he’s a record-breaking guy and a favorite in this town, but you can’t put him in center field. He’s hitting barely .245 and running on a pair of ouchy legs. He hasn’t been in center since ‘06.

Meanwhile, the M’s are still in free-fall.

Early in the spring of 2004, one of the longtime M’s fans in section 132 was loudly explaining to the entire section why Bill Bavasi was a horrible hire as general manager. Overrated, he said, unable to make good player decisions, a disaster for both the Angels and the Dodgers. Get rid of him now.

You might want to at least give him a season or two, others suggested. Pat Gillick had mortgaged half the team’s future and was leaving just as the bill came due. Give Bavasi a chance.

Well, Bavasi has had his few seasons, and let’s look at how well he’s done:

Rich Aurelia, out before the season ended. Scott Spiezio. Jeff Weaver. Richie Sexson, the hardest working power hitter with a .212 batting average.

Bavasi had a penchant for quick-fix players, experienced guys who, in theory, could come in and perform at a peak level instantly. With a few rare exceptions, he wasn’t patient enough to let players develop into their own. His theory: ‘we’re one good bat from contending,’ or ‘we’re one good pitcher from contending.’ Well, um, no. For one thing, most of his “quick-fixes” were aging players, expensive and on the downhill slide.

So, with a $117 million payroll, the worst record in major league baseball, and a sweep from the NL-worst Washington Nationals to chew on, Bavasi is, at last, out the door. Thanks for your years of service, Bill. Better luck in your next place of employment.

Meanwhile, with Bavasi gone, are the M’s going to immediately get better? Hell, no, not this season at least. It’ll probably take a few years to rebuild. However, at least with Bavasi gone and some new blood in the front office, M’s fans can allow themselves to believe that someday, somehow, we’ll stop selling off our best players for aging has-beens.

Oh, also: for those of you clamoring for manager John McLaren’s head? Ichiro probably would have left town without him. Give the guy a break: he’s dealing with a breathtakingly bad team. Find him more than two or three competent batters and a bullpen that works, and we’ll see how well he does.

News from the rapidly-sinking Mariners front: Bill Bavasi is out as general manager:

“Change is in order,” Mariners CEO Howard Lincoln said in a release. “We have determined new leadership is needed in the GM position. With a new leader will come a new plan and a new approach. A search will begin immediately for a permanent GM, and Lee [Pelekoudas] will be a candidate for the position.”

Bavasi was in his fifth season as Seattle’s GM, only once turning out a club that finished with a winning record. That was last year when Seattle won a surprising 88 games, and was in contention for a playoff spot into September. [espn]

I’m hoping that one or more of the sportsball experts in the author bullpen here will step up to the plate with some sort of insightful commentary later today. But when the team is on track to lose nearly as many games as millions on payroll, it doesn’t seem all that surprising that someone’s getting the axe.

In the picture above, you see a recent headshot of Mariners third baseman Adrian Beltre. On the right, you see the bobblehead of Beltre the Mariners gave away at Friday’s game versus the Washington Nationals.

As you can see, Beltre, being a Dominican Republic native, is black. His bobblehead, on the other hand, looks not-so-black. The doll looks like he’s white with a tan. (For those of you who are true Seattle natives, a “tan” is what happens to your skin when you spend time in the “sun.” Now the “sun” is a mass of incandescent gas….)

Is this just a sign of how badly the Mariners have managed to mismanage this season that they make one of their star player’s bobbleheads look like he’s from Dallas, not the Dominican?

Through the cold fog of the Mariners’ soon-to-be-legendary Season of Doom, the first casualty has appeared: batting coach Jeff Pentland, who watched the Mariners achieve their current .248 batting average, second to last in the AL.

This, frankly, is a bit like the crew of the Titanic tossing one of the guys in the boiler room overboard. Sorry, captain: the ship is still sinking. The M’s are on pace to have 105 losses this season. If they achieve that dubious milestone, 2008 will surpass 1978 (104 losses) as the worst season in the Mariners’ mostly pain-filled history. Firing the batting coach isn’t going to magically give you new batters for the #2, #3 and #4 spots, and it’s not going to fix up any of the pitcher’s arms either.

Pentland is being replaced by Lee Elia, who Geoff Baker points out is 70 years old, semi-retired, and an obvious temporary baling-wire-and-duct-tape “fix”.

Honestly, this season is already a write-off, but I’d feel better if they’d start working on some longer term fixes. Such as: replace the guy actually responsible for hiring all these mediocre bats, Bill Bavasi. There are days I wonder if he’s secretly still being paid by the Angels. He’s emptied out our farm system, overpaid grievously for poor returns, and given us years of cellar-dweller baseball. How much longer are Chuck Armstrong (team president) and Howard Lincoln (CEO) going to put up with this?