SEATTLE — Across the Ballard Bridge (the 15th Avenue Bridge to locals), only a few miles north of the arena that previously housed Seattle’s most popular pro sports team, sits Mike’s Chili Parlor, a 103-year-old dive bar that, over the last week, has doubled as a hub for SuperSonics fans proudly expressing emotions during the NBA Finals.
Jason Puckett, 49, showed up wearing a green and yellow cap with the “SuperSonics” script — the same hat Gary Payton wore on draft night — and a matching NBA Jam T-shirt featuring Shawn Kemp and Payton, because those Seattle teams of the 1990s still mean something to him. Mike Seely, 50, was in attendance for Games 1 and 4 wearing a white, green and yellow Ansu Sesay jersey because … well, there’s only one reason to wear a Sesay jersey: Seely’s still a die-hard Sonics fan.
Nate Backes, 31, came in wearing a gray Sonics hoodie with shorts that matched Seely’s jersey in tribute to those Ray Allen teams of the early 2000s. Mike Semandiris, 59, was there for Game 4 primarily because his family has owned the bar since 1922, but also because he still remembers skipping school to watch the parade when the Sonics won the NBA title in 1979.
The Parlor, which was standing room only by the fourth quarter of last Friday’s Game 4 of the NBA Finals, has served as a snapshot of what’s transpiring in Seattle as the Oklahoma City Thunder tangle with the Indiana Pacers in the Thunder’s second finals appearance since the franchise relocated from the Emerald City in 2008. Seattleites young and old have never stopped repping their Sonics, but the sight of the Thunder in the finals, the conflating of the two franchise histories during the broadcasts and expansion talks on the docket for upcoming league meetings in July have reinvigorated the city and turned these finals games into unofficial Sonics nostalgia nights.
Then there’s a different emotion during the finals emanating from the Parlor patrons and Sonics fans all over the Pacific Northwest: heartbreak-driven animus.
Animus is why the bar erupted with high-fives, hugs and cheers after Tyrese Haliburton’s clutch Game 1 shot. It’s why a local sports apparel company had an “OKC Blunder” graphic ready to post on social media after Indy’s first win. It’s why a man in the back corner of the Parlor wore a white T-shirt bearing the Sonics logo with the phrase “Boycott Starbucks” across the front. It’s why every Pascal Siakam fadeaway and every Shai Gilgeous-Alexander flop evoke visceral reactions. It’s why pro-Thunder tweets from beloved ex-Seahawk Tyler Lockett (a Tulsa native) are frequently met with angry, NSFW replies.
Seattle loves its Sonics. But it also hates the Thunder, Clay Bennett, Howard Schultz, David Stern and anyone associated with a nasty divorce that left them with nothing but memories.
“I have been in fear all year they’re going to win the championship, and I’m pretty sure they are,” said Kevin Jackson, a 55-year-old Seattle native. “When they win, that’s going to be a heartbreaking sports moment.”
On the eve of Thursday’s Game 6, the Thunder have a 3-2 lead and are on the precipice of breaking Seattle’s heart.
Again.
“What it comes back to is the realization if OKC were to win a championship, how hurtful that would be,” Backes said. “I don’t think any fan of the Thunder deserves a championship. It’s not their team. I know that’s probably a little insane to say, but it’s me being selfish and probably a little crazy about it.
“I just want the Pacers to win. I don’t think (the Thunder) deserve a title, a ring, a parade, anything.”
The Sonics predate the Seattle Mariners and the Seattle Seahawks, and their NBA title came at a time when the MLB and NFL franchises were still in their infancy. There’s a generation of Seattleites old enough to remember when this city only had the Sonics and can trace their pro sports fandom to legends like “Downtown” Freddie Brown, Donald “Slick” Watts and Gus Williams. Younger generations fell in love with Payton, Kemp, Nate McMillan and Detlef Schrempf. Others with Allen, Brent Barry and Rashard Lewis.
Deep-rooted love for the Sonics contributed to the city being rich with hoops talent. The greater Seattle area has produced NBA players for decades; there are several active players from the area, with Orlando Magic forward Paolo Banchero headlining the list. The Seattle-to-the-NBA pipeline is its own community within the city, and Jamal Crawford — whose annual pro-am is notorious for bringing NBA stars into town — is the godfather of it all.
Seattle hasn’t had an official NBA roster team for 17 years, but there are still podcasts dedicated to the Sonics’ history. There’s Seattle NBA Fans, a volunteer-based coalition dedicated to rallying support for the team in advance of its return. There’s the Sonics Legends Fund, which provides financial aid to former players. There’s the “SonicsGate” documentary about how it all went down.
There are autograph-signing events with Sonics legends. Live re-watch parties of playoff games from the ’90s with hundreds of attendees. Ex-players like Payton, Schrempf, Kemp and Lewis still actively impact the community. Ditto for Lenny Wilkens and George Karl, the two coaches to lead the Sonics to the finals.
“It’s the most popular franchise and team that’s ever been in this city,” said Puckett, who spent two decades hosting local sports talk radio in Seattle before launching a podcast last year. “Because of the connection that started so many years ago and so many generations of fans.”
Simply Seattle, a local sports apparel company, sells more Sonics gear annually than it does merchandise for every other team in the city, save for when the Washington Huskies made a run to the College Football Playoff national championship in 2023. In two of the last four years, Simply has generated nearly $1 million in revenue solely through sales of Sonics merchandise, according to Jake Smidt, their vice president of products. “Seattle is a basketball city,” said Smidt, a 28-year-old Seattle native.
Kemp and Payton jerseys are their most popular items, a reflection of how fondly people remember the Sonics and covet iconic imagery of those teams from the ’90s.
Among the custom items Simply has created in recent years is its “We Got Next” T-shirt that dropped prior to KeyArena being renovated and renamed to Climate Pledge Arena.
“That was one of the most popular shirts that we’ve ever done,” Smidt said.
Kenji Onozawa, a 43-year-old Seattle native, runs the X account @SeattleSonics, which has 43,000 followers, and regularly features posts about the team as a reminder of how the Sonics contributed to the legacy and culture of basketball in the city.
“They were so accessible,” said Onozawa, a founding adviser of Seattle NBA Fans. “They were just part of the community, I felt, more so than any other pro team in Seattle. They were out there doing things, and they felt like they were one of us. There’s a huge community aspect part of this that is so important to the city.”
The Sonics relocated to Oklahoma City in 2008. The fan base never left.
“I think about a whole generation of kids here that grew up without NBA basketball,” said Jackson, a former ESPN and FOX Sports executive. “That just makes me sad.”
During the NBA Finals montage ahead of Game 1, ABC aired a photo of Jack Sikma hugging Dennis Johnson and John Johnson in celebration of the franchise’s title. To the right of the image read “1979 SEATTLE SUPERSONICS” with an accompanying logo.
Those moments when the two franchises are treated as if they are one in the same remain a sore spot for Sonics fans.
“It’s ridiculous to be worked up about it,” said Mike Gastineau, 65, who spent 21 years as a talk-show host on the Sonics’ flagship radio station. His 3 p.m.-7 p.m. time slot was often the lead-in to Sonics broadcasts.
“People say, ‘Get over it,’ and I’m like, there’s certain things in life you just don’t get over, even if you know it’s probably the best thing to do.”
Because many Seattleites will never get over it, any Thunder trip-up is treated as a momentous occasion. The Thunder’s success is a reminder of what could have been. So, their shortcomings are celebrated.
“Every time they make the playoffs,” Jackson said, “I hold my breath until they lose.”
Fans who may not even have watched the finals otherwise were actively cheering for the Miami Heat in 2012, when LeBron James, Dwyane Wade, Chris Bosh and the Heat beat the Thunder with a gentleman’s sweep.
Klay Thompson, whose jersey is retired at his alma mater Washington State, became immortalized in Seattle when his 41 points against the Thunder in Game 6 of the Western Conference finals helped the Golden State Warriors eventually win the series. Damian Lillard became a hero in Seattle when he waved goodbye to the Thunder after drilling a series-ending 3-pointer to lift the Blazers over OKC in the first round of the 2019 playoffs.
For some, a city more than 2,000 miles away from Indianapolis desperately wants Haliburton’s Pacers to pull off a comeback so it can add him to that club of Thunder slayers.
“It’s a very worthy grudge to hold,” Seely said. “There’s not a lot of worthy grudges to hold. This is one of them.”
Added to the sting of seeing Oklahoma City so close to winning a title is the fact it may come during a time when expansion and the return of the Sonics is on the horizon. NBA commissioner Adam Silver has said he expects the board of governors will discuss expansion next month at its meetings in Las Vegas. Seattle is eagerly awaiting the return of the Sonics, and the city will rejoice when the formal plan for expansion is announced, if their city is included.
But there would be a cruel irony to receiving that news the same year the Thunder, led by their league MVP, become world champions.
“For (expansion) to happen now and then for them to win it this year would just be the last twist of the knife in the gut,” Puckett said.
Sonics fans won’t give up hope of a Pacers victory, just as they haven’t given up hope regarding NBA expansion. Their passion is too powerful. Passion was the driving force behind Seely screaming at a TV in the Parlor when Obi Toppin drained a pair of triples in the fourth quarter of Game 4 — which inspired a “Let’s go, Pacers!” chant inside the bar. If not for all the Sonics apparel, a passerby may have mistaken the Parlor for a Pacers fan club.
But with passion, there is pain. A collective and dejected “awww” filled the venue when Bennedict Mathurin missed a free throw with 23 seconds left in Game 4. Then he missed another. Seconds later, Mathurin missed again.
Tabs were paid, jackets were draped over shoulders, and the bar began to clear out. The Game 1 watch party had ended with a bang; the Game 4 showing was a bummer.
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