The Sonics? That team doesn't live here anymore.

It was a dark night, chilly and damp, when the stranger came back to town. Looking for something to do, he wandered into a nearby Starbucks, hoping to shoot the breeze with somebody.

Sitting down next to a jowled man in a king Felix jersey, he asked: “Hey, how about those Sonics?”

The man looked across, a scowl on his face. “What Sonics? You mean that restaurant?”

“No, no,” replied the stranger. “The Supersonics. The basketball team. You know, green jerseys, 1979 NBA Champions.”

The scowled man shrugged and went back to his mocha frappuccino. So the stranger moved on along the Starbucks, asking about the Sonics.

“They played in the ’96 Finals, against MJ and the Bulls.”

“Was that the first year the Jazz collapsed, or the second?”

“They beat Houston in overtime of game seven in ‘93”

“I thought that was Phoenix.”

“They went to two finals in a row in the 70s!”

“Yeah, the Blazers were a good team back then, eh”

He kept moving, asking, getting nowhere.

“Shawn Kemp?”

“Wasn’t he that bum in Cleveland?”

“Jack Sikma?”

“He was that Milwaukee guy, right? The one who broke McHale’s foot?”

“Ray Allen?”

“Yeah, the Boston guy. Good outside shooter.”

Exasperated, he hailed a cab and went downtown. The arena was down there; maybe he’d find a fan or two hanging around.

“Take me to KeyWest.”

“Key what? You mean the office complexes downtown? They’re closed, but it’s your dollar, chief.”

The stranger got no relief downtown. No arena, no basketball fans, not a sign of the Sonics. Just a bunch of tall buildings, coffee stores and the needled tower.

Finally, he walked over to a homeless man, lying on the curb, covered in a dirty green and gold blanket. Throwing him a nickel, he asked what happened to the Sonics.

“The Sonics? That team doesn’t live here anymore.”

“What happened?”

“Coffee man sold them to a man who traded away the stars, bought out the lease, moved them to Oklahoma. All that’s left now is a box of jerseys and a handful of bitter fans.”

“And nobody did anything?”

The homeless man shrugged. “What was there to do? The commish let it happen. The owners let it happen. All the fans got was to keep a name.”

“That’s horrible!”

“That’s progress, baby.” The homeless man rolled over and covered his head with the blanket.

Dejected, the stranger walked back to the Starbucks.

“How about those Mariners?”

Was game six rigged? 82games finds out

The most infamous game of the past 25 years - and maybe ever in the NBA - was played a little over six years ago and prompted allegations that it was rigged by the NBA; even Ralph Nader called for an inquiry (he's gotta keep himself busy between doomed election campaigns, one assumes).

It was game six of the 2002 Western Finals between the Lakers and the Kings. Most remembered for the Lakers 40 free throws and Kobe hitting Mike Bibby with an elbow and Bibby getting the foul.

And it's divided people unlike any other game in the history of the NBA. Mike Wilbon of the Washington Post called it the worst officiated game he had ever seen. Bill Simmons called it the most disturbing subplot of the postseason: "from an officiating standpoint, the most one-sided game of the past decade".

This past post-season, when Tim Donaghy said that this game was determined by company men, it took on a life of it's own.

But now Roland Beech, the founder of 82games.com, has broken the game down, call by call by call, in excruciating detail. And he's found out the game may may have been unduly effected by the officiating. It's a long red but it's worth it.

One unaddressed point, though: as Bill Simmons pointed out in 2002, Dick Bavetta was also involved in several other controversial games:

1999, Knicks-Pacers, Game 3 ... 1999, Knicks-Pacers, Game 6 ... 1999, Spurs-Knicks, Game 3 ... 2000, Knicks-Heat, Game 7 ... 2000, Lakers-Blazers, Game 7 ... 2002, Celtics-Nets, Game 4

Now, if only 82games.com could break down some other games and settle some other debates, for once and for all.