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Wednesday, December 11 Saying goodbye to a childhood friend By David Aldridge Special to ESPN.com |
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Sunday, they blow up some of my childhood.
The Capital Centre is doomed to the imploder's button, and few will take notice. Magic Johnson is developing another set of his Theatres as part of a new mall, right where so many of my memories lay. There used to be a ballpark, right here ... I don't expect many folks outside of the District to understand. The Bullets/Wizards and Caps have been colossal disappointments for a generation; I doubt that any other city has had more winter nights when the local sportscast led with both the NBA team and the NHL team losing. The Capital Centre didn't have the living history of the Gardens, Madison Square and Boston, or the old Chicago Stadium, or the Fabulous Forum, or the kitsch factor of places like the L.A. Sports Arena or HemisFair in San Antonio. But it was home to many of the moments that showed me how beautiful sports could be, and how important it was to so many people. How important it was to me. Understand, D.C. was just falling in love with the Redskins when I was a kid. And Skins tickets were gold. But the first time my dad took me to Landover (or Largo; both cities claimed the Centre), I walked in ... and I fell in love. In love with the building, which was shaped like a horse's saddle, and in love with basketball. I'd never seen blues as blue as the Knicks' road unis, and the white of the Bullets' home jerseys seemed blinding. The TelScreen, one of the first in-house replay screens, was enormous. Even the scoreboard seemed dynamic and fresh and exciting. Back then, believe it or not, the Bullets were contenders, and games meant something. It was loud in the Cap Centre (no one with any dignity calls it USAir Arena, its last moniker) when Elvin Hayes hit a turnaround, or Nick Weatherspoon dropped in a baseliner, or Kevin Porter high-stepped his way down the floor. The PA guy was named Marv Brooks, and he was terrific; nothing beat his "Spoooooooon" call. The crowds were raucous and knowledgeable. One of the greatest sustained roars I ever heard came in 1978 during Game 4 of the Eastern Conference finals when the Bullets went on an 18-0 run to end the first half against the Sixers, and I began to truly believe Washington could win the whole thing. It was after that game that Dick Motta said," The opera ain't over 'til the Fat Lady sings," and then you started seeing fat guys in muumuus walking all over the place.
The Bullets won the '78 title in Seattle, but they defended it at the Centre. It was quite a time. Sometimes, you could see things like the circus in other venues like the D.C. Armory, but for the most part in the '70s and '80s, anybody who came through town came through Abe Pollin's place. I saw Stevie Wonder and Barbra Streisand sing there, and saw the Ice Capades there, and watched one of the Capitals' eight victories in 1974 there, and saw a few graduations there, and took in Bill Clinton's Inaugural Party there, and just about every time, it seemed like a magical place. But when I started covering the Bullets, I spent 41 nights a year there. And I realized that the old place was ... cold. And damp. And dark. And had rats running around the size of a hoagie. And that maybe it was a nice place to visit, but who would want to work there? Larry Bird and Chris Mullin hated shooting there because it was so dark, and they wouldn't put better lights in because they wanted a "theater feel" as they put it, but people began to suspect that they were just being cheap. And then Abe starting saying that maybe it was time for a new place, with luxury boxes. And to his credit, he didn't hold the city hostage and threaten to move if he didn't get what he wanted. He got some tax relief, sure, but he spent a lot of his own coin to build MCI Center. And he didn't build it in the suburbs -- he built it downtown, where it's been a lynchpin in the revitalization of the central city. And soon, you could see things like the circus in other venues like the Cap Centre, but for the most part, anybody who came through town came through MCI Center. So now, it's the Cap Centre's time. Buildings rise and they fall; no sense getting sentimental about concrete and glass. I will miss the old boy, though. It was a good ship.
Two-horse expansion race tightens
Whoever gets the bid will have an additional financial burden to the $300-plus million sales price, at first. I'm told that the Commish will insist that the new owners also operate the WNBA's Sting, left without an owner when the Hornets left town. And the new NBA team will have to play in the Charlotte Coliseum for at least a year, starting in 2004-05, without suites and boxes, until the new building downtown is built. Both groups, though, have impressed many around the league, and whichever one loses the Charlotte bid may be first in line for the next team that goes up for sale. Rumors continue to swirl that Chris Cohan may be entertaining bids for the Warriors, but nothing is concrete.
Around the League David Aldridge, who covers the NBA for ESPN, is a regular contributor to ESPN.com. |
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