Hail, Blazers! Not Jail Blazers

In reflecting back on my life I realize how many memories involve the Portland Trail Blazers. I remember the aftermath of the championship season, but not the games themselves. I was too young to register the images of the television set and its relatively primitive coverage, though I do remember the emotions of my family. The following years are more firmly embossed on my memory. These were the years of the Big-Redhead's faulty bones, the source of so much discussion and heartbreak. I remember when he departed for his native San Diego in 1979, the city seemed so exasperated by the drama of waiting that they accepted his leaving as the logical conclusion. Sometimes it's just better to depend on less than to wait for more and never have it arrive. There were some lean years, but as a little kid I was fairly unaware. I spent little time contemplating whether I liked the games less when my team was on the losing end. I had no visceral reaction to all of the losses and repetitive mediocrity that seemed to come so easily to the Blazers. After all, those evenings I sat in the kitchen with my grandfather were warm and comforting--we listened to 1190 KEX on a garage sale radio, its little speaker sounding the voice of the legendary Bill Schonley as he called out: "Paxson brings the ball up the court...crosses the eye...sideline left to Natt...shoots. . .Rip City!" Wins and losses rarely mattered when wrapped in such a beautiful package. Then came Drexler. Porter. Kersey. Duckworth. Robinson. Ainge. Petrovic. Buck. Heartbreaking Championship runs. I look at the first 33 years of the Trail Blazer franchise and I see more good than bad. I see glorious victory chased by an amazing string of playoff runs. The last second heartbreaks of failed Game Sevens. To be a Blazer fan means always having doubt that your team will get over the hump. It is the acceptance of silver and bronze. But, it is the love of your only major sports franchise that brings you back. It is the hope that someday you will be a part of the next Broadway Parade. Now, just an hour and a half away from the proverbial fork in the road, I am giddy with optimism. A part of me thinks that we could win it all next year. But the realist says it's three years away. Greg Oden is that good. It took Walton a couple of years. I can wait. The darkest time in Blazer history is the "Jail Blazer Period". If you are not an Oregonian or a Blazer fan it is probably difficult to understand the annoyance that the Jail Blazer title is. We had our fair share of criminals, criminal sympathizers, criminal supporters, and criminal wannabes, but that period is over. Zach Randolph is the last of the active-roster players from that era who approaches criminal status. In his defense, he has been the Teflon Don so far. He makes this fan nervous, but for the first time in four years I am less nervous than excited. This incarnation of the Portland Trail Blazers is young, enthusiastic, and well grounded. It is a squad of role models worth standing behind. The Jail Blazers is a name in our past. It's time to let it go the way of "Wassssuuuuup" and "Where's the beef?" I certainly hope that the rest of the sporting world will catch up soon. For me, the direction of this Blazers team has reenergized me. I have a four year-old son who will grow up with positive sports heroes in his back yard. I'll be sure to turn on the kitchen radio and tell him how good the Schonz was.