Hey Oklahoma City, aren't you glad you got the Sonics?
Yep, you get a team with a 2-18 record that is on pace to win less than ten games for the entire season. Better buy that Street and Smiths College Issue to see who the lottery picks will be for next year.
Yeah, you're big time now Oklahoma City. You have an NBA franchise. You get to watch Kevin Durant and eleven other guys I can't name. Durant is a decent player, except he's more lost on defense that Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz. I won't mention his assist ratio because he never passes the ball.
I don't even know who the coach is.
You get to take out a second mortgage to buy season tickets. For that, you'll be subjected to three hours of mind-numbingly boring basketball until the last two minutes of every game. In the meantime, some jerk is going to shoot a t-shirt at your nose with an air gun and you'll have a headache for two days from all the 'sound effects' designed to make the game interesting.
You'll get to pay twenty dollars for parking, eight dollars for a warm beer, and six dollars for a hot dog that tastes like it fell off the muffler of a sixty seven Roadrunner and then the driver backed up and ran over it again - just for good measure!
All so you can pay the guaranteed million dollar salary of some 19-year old punk that probably couldn't spell N-B-A if you spotted him the N and the A.
Did I mention the tattoos? You'll see more ink than a stenographer. There's nothing better than watching a multi-millionaire defile his body like a Hells Angel on crack. Oh, they're always meant to be meaningful, like a tribute to a dead uncle or, more likely, a dead pit bull.
Aren't you glad you spent all those tens of millions of dollars on an NBA franchise rather than spending it on something meaningful? I mean, you could have hired teachers for your historically poor performing school districts; rebuilt roads; or built play fields for thousands of adults and children to actually play a sport rather than watching one.
And you thought congress was stupid when it gave seven hundred billion to all those banks.
Remember when Guy Ritchie married Madonna because he thought he was marrying someone big? Yeah, now you know how he feels.