Excuse me, boys? Over here. Oh, hi! It’s KeyArena, the building you two have been treating like a past-her-prime actress who should either invest in Courtney Cox levels of plastic surgery or GTFO. I would very much like to be excluded from this narrative. But we all know you’re not going to stop architecturally shaming me until Seattle gets a new NBA franchise, so here I am. Resist the urge to sportsplain until I’m done.
Chris, honestly, I don’t have much of a beef with you. You haven’t strung me along, pretending I might still have a chance to gain your affection if I’d just add 10,000 seats and improve my sight lines. No late-night requests to take a look around because you were lonely and the next closest arena is in Portland. Now, I suppose I could put you on blast for going with something younger and flashier, but you’re a dude. It’s what you do. (Just don’t bother calling when it doesn’t work out.)
Ed, it’s you I’m disappointed in. I expected The Seattle Times to insert me into a story where I don’t belong; the male-driven media is really good at deciding what’s best for everyone but men. But I didn’t think you’d be the type to suggest “fixing” me. And not just that, but offering me up to the highest bidder who will renovate me to the unrealistic standards of the NBA. I already went under the knife for them once before, and they lost interest again pretty quickly. After that I promised myself I’d never again let someone else’s blueprints define me. Also, the only thing you should worry about building right now is low-income housing.
Here’s the thing, gentlemen: I don’t need you. I have the Storm. I have Seattle U basketball. I have the occasional New Kids on the Block tour. (Who’s hangin’ tough now?) I’m a strong, independent, publicly owned institution that doesn’t need a couple of white men to decide its future. So please, would you kindly take my name out of your mouth?