When we were Kings

Try to say this without smiling: Vlade, Peja, C-Webb, Bibby.

If you lived in Sacramento 10 years ago and you were a Kings fan—and everyone was a Kings fan then—the names alone are enough to bring back memories of good vibes and great hoops. Divac’s no-look dishes from the high post. Peja raining down threes with such regularity we started calling them “Serbian layups.” Bibby’s deadly midrange jumpers. Webber collecting double-doubles like most people collect pocket lint. Arco thunder. Sold-out games. Playoff wins.

Ten years ago, the Kings were the toast of the basketball world, and we were the loudest, most devoted fans in basketball. We dyed the water in the Cesar Chavez Plaza fountain purple, draped city hall in “Beat L.A.” banners, propped signs in our windows and pasted bumper stickers on our cars. Some of us even got Kings tattoos. We packed Arco Arena night after night, shouted ourselves hoarse watching games in sports bars and living rooms and block parties from Roseville to Davis, and generally obsessed over all things Kings. We were part of something special, and it felt good. In a city that often seems to suffer from a civic inferiority complex, we felt proud.

Sure, it hurt like hell when the Kings lost to the Los Angeles Lakers in the 2002 Western Conference Finals in one of the most dramatic and controversial series in NBA history. But now, on the 10-year anniversary of the series, it’s worth remembering that pride and that magical season. In a city so lacking in collective identity, it was a time of shared hopes, thrills and disappointment, and that alone makes it a story worth retelling.

Seasons in hell

The 2002 Western Conference Finals had everything: buzzer-beating shots, constant shifts in momentum, on-court competition of the highest quality, off-court controversies, larger-than-life personalities with superhuman talents, and two teams that couldn’t have been more different. You didn’t need to know the backstory, but it was even better if you did.

The Lakers were then, as now, perennial contenders, and arguably the most dominant franchise in professional sports. Going into the 2002 playoffs, they had won championships in each of the previous two seasons, and six of the previous 20. Laker fans were everywhere, and seemed to feel it was simply the natural order of things that the best players of each generation should dominate the basketball world on their behalf, with Shaquille O’Neal and Kobe Bryant being only their latest superstar duo. Laker fans arrived late, left early, booed when the home team didn’t dominate, and on those odd occasions when their team wasn’t a contender, they found other things to do.

The Kings’ history was mirror image of the Lakers’ storied dominance. The team arrived in Sacramento in 1985 as one of the NBA’s most traveled and least successful franchises and quickly set records for on-court futility and home-game sellouts that remain among the longest in NBA history. Having suffered five straight losing seasons in Kansas City, Mo., they racked up 13 more in Sacramento.

The Kings lacked the talent to compete with the Lakers, Larry Bird’s Boston Celtics, or the other elites of the ’80s, but they instantly found a fan base that was among the loudest and most loyal anywhere. Longtime fans recall with pride how the Kings beat the Celtics during that first Sacramento season after Bird—a revered clutch performer and peerless free-throw shooter—missed two foul shots with the game on the line, in large part because Kings fans stomped, waved, howled and literally shook the building to distract him.

“The atmosphere was electric,” recalled NBA hall of famer Bill Walton, a member of that 1985-86 Celtics team and now a broadcaster for the Kings. “The fans at Arco Arena were as loud and as passionate as anything I’d ever seen.”

“Every night was an experience,” said Nick Rust, who with his wife, Barbara, has held season tickets since the first year. “They had a lot of years where you came in just hoping the game was going to be close, not expecting to win. But there was an atmosphere. It was exciting. It was the first big sporting event to come to Sacramento, so there was a lot of excitement, and that carried on for a long time.”

Ironically, the fans’ unconditional love probably contributed to a lack of urgency that allowed losses to pile up year after year, with little hope in sight. Things got so bad that when Mitch Richmond was traded to Sacramento in 1991, he was greeted by guard Spud Webb with a phrase that probably summarized many NBA players’ view of Sacramento: “Welcome to hell.”

Losing was as much a part of the Sacramento landscape as the cattle grazing just beyond the Arco parking lot. It seemed like things would never change, but beginning in 1998, a series of moves by president of basketball operations Geoff Petrie vaulted the team into contention.

Sellouts and swagger

In May 1998, the Kings pulled the trigger on the biggest trade in franchise history, sending a disgruntled Richmond to Washington for a talented but troubled power forward named Chris Webber. Webber was younger, bigger and more gifted than Richmond, but had accumulated a rap sheet that included a marijuana arrest, traffic violations, assault charges and a grand-jury investigation of sexual-assault allegations. Many saw the deal as a risky one for the Kings.

“It certainly wasn’t a gamble in terms of talent,” Petrie told SN&R. “Chris was rookie of the year on a team that won 50-some games at Golden State. He was one of the best young power forwards in the league.”

Also arriving in 1998 was Peja Stojakovic, a 6-foot-10-inch sharpshooter drafted in 1996 when he was a 19-year-old playing professionally in Greece, and Vlade Divac, who joined the team as a free agent and instantly became central to everything the Kings were trying to do. Divac could score and defend in the post, shoot from range and pass like no other big man in the game, but his good-natured personality would become equally important to the Kings.

“He was the consummate definition of what you call a ‘glue guy,’” Petrie said. “Despite his own considerable talents, he was always putting others first. He didn’t care how many points he scored, even though he was fully capable of putting up numbers. It was all about winning and making the team better. He really helped Peja, and he was a mentor for a lot of guys on our team.”

Adding to the excitement was point guard Jason Williams, taken by the Kings as the seventh pick of the 1998 draft. He was an instant sensation, adding a touch of streetball swagger to the Kings with his behind-the-back dribbling and no-look lobs. The new look Kings not only led the NBA in scoring in that shortened 1998-99 season and put up the franchise’s first winning record in Sacramento, they also become the subject of nationwide fascination, as J-Will’s ball-handling antics dominated cable sports-highlight shows, and his jersey became one of the NBA’s best-sellers.

“Jason Williams, when he first came to Sacramento, he gave ’em their swagger and their personality,” recalled Shaquille O’Neal. “When they got Chris Webber, Jason, Vlade, they became a very hard team to beat, and Sacramento was probably the hardest place ever to play for visiting teams.”

Picking up good vibrations

If the 1998-99 season was promising, the next two were even better. In 1999-2000, the Kings won 44 regular season games before being swept by the Lakers in the first round of the playoffs. The next season, they added the versatile Turkish-born Hedo Turkoglu and sparkplug guard Bobby Jackson, improving to a record of 55-27 and defeating the Phoenix Suns in the first round of the playoffs before being swept by the Lakers. These Kings were good and getting better, and their team-oriented style made them a joy to watch.

“The combination of Vlade and Chris, their versatility and their passing allowed [coach Rick Adelman] to create an offense that was one of the most fun offenses to watch,” said Petrie. “He was able to take what he had in Chris and Vlade, and a really creative point guard in Jason, and the rest of the pieces started to fall into place.”

“Vlade was a brilliant passer,” said Walton. “Chris was a brilliant passer. And they had guys like Peja who were able to knock down jumpers, Doug Christie and Bobby Jackson willing to lay it all out there and fight for the ball. And the fans made it. They took the team to heights it could never get to on its own. The players were playing with such remarkable passion, and they left everything out there on the floor every night. It’s what you live for, and very few franchises ever get that.”

Adding to the excitement and general air of good vibes was the fact that these Kings actually liked each other and enjoyed playing together. “We respected each other,” recalled Bobby Jackson. “It was kind of like a brotherhood, because we hung around each other more than we hung around our families, and there was just a bond that we had. There was camaraderie, chemistry, no egos.”

The response from fans was ecstatic. “Oh, my gosh, it was insane, to have a team like that here!” said Kelly Auradou. “I moved here when Chris and Vlade and all those guys were playing, and even though I had never really been interested in sports before, I started watching on TV, and I got hooked. Then I started coming to games and became a season-ticket holder.”

“It was a lot of fun, because the fans were not only die-hard, loyal Kings fans, but on top of that they had a sense of humor,” said Scott Pollard, recalling how after Lakers coach Phil Jackson called Sacramento a “cow town,” Kings fans brought cowbells to Arco and rattled them incessantly during time-outs. “It annoyed the hell out of the whole Laker organization, and I loved it.”

Barbara “Sign Lady” Rust, who has occupied seats on the baseline near the Kings bench since the first season in Sacramento, was one of the many fans who brought handmade signs to games. “It became my way of sending them support,” she said. “I would hold up something saying, ‘Don’t give up, we love you,’ all the things a fan wants to say, and they would see it because of where I sit. Chris Webber was always responsive. As much of a superstar as he was, he would always acknowledge me in some way, nodding his head or mouthing ‘thank you.’ He was absolutely awesome, but that whole team was like family. We all had such strong feelings for them.”

Jackson said it was “a tremendous experience” playing at Arco during those years. “Having those fans cheering for you every night, it gave you goose bumps, and it made you want to go out and play that much harder.”

Tainted cheeseburgers and gut-check wins

In each of the previous two years, the Lakers had ended the Kings’ season with playoff series defeats, but hopes were high that things would be different in 2001-02. Thanks to another trade, they had the steadier, sure-shooting Mike Bibby in place of Williams and finished with a league-best record of 61-21 record, guaranteeing home-court advantage throughout the playoffs.

The season record was all the more remarkable considering that Webber, who led them team with 24.5 points and 10.1 rebounds, missed 18 games with injuries, and Divac was under tremendous stress due to the NATO bombing of his homeland. Divac often spent all night on the telephone checking on relatives in Serbia and doing what he could to help.

“Vlade was such a professional, that a lot of us didn’t even know all of that was going on in his personal life until it started coming out in the media,” said Pollard. “He didn’t let it affect him, didn’t complain, just went out and played hard every night.”

The Kings made quick work of the Utah Jazz and Dallas Mavericks in the opening rounds, but the Western Conference Finals got off to a deflating start as the Lakers dominated Game 1, shredding the Kings’ defense for 36 first-quarter points and never trailing en route to a 106-99 win. Though otherwise dismal for Kings fans, Game 1 produced at least one unforgettable moment. During a furious third-quarter rally, Jackson chased a rebound down the baseline and tumbled headlong into the seats, where he was embraced and kissed on the forehead and cheek by adoring female fans. “They love their Kings in Sacramento,” marveled TNT’s Mike Breen as Jackson returned to the floor, smiling in amazement.

In Game 2, the Kings bounced back, thanks in part to a much better performance from Turkoglu, starting in place of the injured Stojakovic, and a Hyatt Regency room-service cheeseburger that weakened Kobe Bryant. The Kings received great performances from Webber (21 points, 13 rebounds, 5 assists), Bibby (20 points, 8 assists) and Jackson (17 points), but the post-game media buzz was all about Bryant, who played 40 minutes and scored 22 points, despite having been up all night with food poisoning.

Local sports talk shows were ablaze with gossip. How could Kobe have gotten food poisoning when the Hyatt served 1,700 meals with no other reports of illness that day? Meanwhile, O’Neal added to the extracurricular controversy, telling reporters, “There is only one way to beat us. It starts with a ‘C’ and ends with a ‘T,’” implying the Kings had cheated in Game 2.

“That was all just for fun,” O’Neal told SN&R. “It’s like when I called Sacramento the ‘Queens.’ I knew it was going to get the fans all riled up. It’s called marketing.”

The horror, the Horry

In Game 3, the Kings put together their most dominating performance of the series, beating the Lakers 103-90 in a game they controlled from start to finish. Six Kings scored in double figures, and the defense was equally impressive, holding the Lakers to a miserable 36 percent field-goal percentage.

Game 4 started with more of the same, and boos rained down from the L.A. fans as the Kings opened up a 24-point first-quarter lead, but the Lakers tightened their defense and pulled to within 65-51 at halftime, thanks in part to a three-pointer by Samaki Walker that replays revealed had clearly been released after the buzzer.

“The first half was great, and we’re thinking, ‘If we can hold out for two more quarters, we’ll be up 3-1,’” said Ryan Lindow, a Kings fan who traveled to Los Angeles for the game. “Most people agreed that whoever won the Western Conference was going to win it all that year, so it felt like we right on the verge.”

Kings fans won’t need to be reminded of how Game 4 ended. Trailing by two with 11.8 seconds to play, the Lakers inbounded to Bryant, who drove, was cut off by Divac, and forced a shot that missed. O’Neal missed the put back and Divac tipped the rebound away, sending the ball bouncing with agonizing slowness to Laker forward Robert Horry, who was standing alone at the three-point line. Horry drained the shot as time expired, the Staples Center exploded, and the series was tied.

“It was the single worst sports moment of my life,” said Lindow. “I was sitting pretty high up in Staples Center, but I could see it all unfold. I remember Kobe missing, and I was thinking, ‘This is it, we’ve got it!’ And then the ball bounced out to Horry.”

Game 5 was a war, a game full of hard fouls, loose balls and bodies on the floor. It was also Mike Bibby’s finest hour. He scored 12 in the final quarter, including a 20-foot jumper with 8.2 seconds left that put the Kings ahead 92-91, decided the game, turned Arco into a madhouse, and left the Kings needing just one more win to advance to the finals.

Game 666

In a series filled with drama, spectacular play, and disputed officiating, Game 6 was the most spectacular and most disputed.

O’Neal was utterly dominant. Those who dismiss Shaq as a banger who lacked the finesse of a truly great center should review the dazzling turnaround bank shots, jump-hooks and running one-handers he unveiled in Game 6 en route to a dominating 41 points and 17 rebounds. Likewise, anyone who questioned Webber’s ability to produce under pressure should review his numerous clutch shots and 26-point, 13-rebound performance here.

“Chris was the guy who could put our team on his back and carry us into the winner’s circle most nights,” said Pollard. “There were so many times he won games for us, yet there were always people who piled on him for the few times he didn’t. He took a lot of flak for not getting us to the promised land, but without him, we wouldn’t have had a chance at the promised land in the first place.”

Despite Webber’s brilliance and great games from Bibby and Divac, the Kings lost 106-102 in a Game 6 that would live in infamy, thanks to stunningly bad officiating that consistently favored the Lakers. The numbers alone told the story, Pollard said, noting that the Lakers shot a remarkable 27 free throws in the fourth quarter alone. Pollard fouled out in only 11 minutes, Divac fouled out in 31 minutes, Webber had five fouls, and Lawrence Funderburke picked up three in only six minutes, yet O’Neal played 44 minutes and was called for only four fouls.

“Does that sound like an evenly officiated game?” Pollard asked. “Does that sound like it was fair?”

One call in the final seconds got more attention than any other. With the Lakers’ lead at 103-102 with 12.6 remaining, Bibby was guarding Bryant with his back to the basket as Horry inbounded from the baseline. Struggling to get free, Bryant landed an elbow to Bibby’s nose that floored him and bloodied his nose. Nothing was called. Bryant took the inbound pass, was intentionally fouled, made two free throws to seal the win, and the Kings were left to wonder what had happened.

“Walking away, we felt that something was wrong,” said Jackson. “We felt like we had got cheated.”

“Game 6 was a fiasco,” said Nick Rust. “I was so mad about it. I still consider them champions of that year, because I think we got jobbed. I don’t know if Sacramento is ever going to forget what happened.”

Where conspiracies happen

Against the backdrop of Game 6, the final game seemed anticlimactic. After all the incredible plays, the big shots and controversial calls, the Kings lost due to an inability to execute one of the most mundane fundamentals in the game: shooting free throws.

This time, the Kings could blame no one but themselves. With their season on the line, they shot a miserable 16-30 from the line on their way to losing 112-106 in overtime. Stojakovic air-balled a wide open three with 11 seconds left that might have won the game. In one exasperating sequence in overtime, the Kings failed to score on five straight possessions, with Webber, Bibby and Christie badly missing open shots and Turkoglu committing a turnover. With 100 additional police officers on duty in anticipation of a wild victory celebration, Sacramento fell quiet after the game.

The series was over, but Game 6 took on a life of its own as sportswriters around the country roasted the officiating. David DuPree of USA Today wrote: “I’ve been covering the NBA for 30 years, and it’s the poorest officiating in an important game I’ve ever seen.” Consumer advocate Ralph Nader joined the fray with an open letter to NBA commissioner David Stern stating the Game 6 officiating had “severely shaken” public confidence in the integrity of professional sports and calling for an investigation.

If Stern took any of the criticism seriously, he never let on, even when the controversy resurfaced again in 2007 after longtime NBA official Tim Donaghy was caught up in an FBI investigation of organized crime and admitted to shaving points for mobsters. In an effort to show cooperation and gain a reduced sentence, Donaghy provided information to the FBI regarding what he claimed were instances of “game manipulation” by NBA referees. The Game 6 crew included two “company men” who made calls against the Kings and ignored fouls on the Lakers in order to extend the series to a seventh game, Donaghy alleged, in order to boost television ratings and profits.

Stern dismissed the allegations as the desperate act of an admitted felon. Still, the NBA investigated, and in 2008 issued the Pedowitz Report, a 133-page review of Donaghy’s claims that included eight pages on Game 6. It confirmed that officials made numerous mistakes, most of them benefitting the Lakers, but found no evidence of intentional favoritism.

O’Neal dismissed the controversy. “I read those excerpts,” he said. “There was no controversy, no conspiracy. The Kings couldn’t stop me, and they couldn’t stop Kobe. We beat ’em fair and square on their court.”

Still here

Ten years later, they’re still here.

Despite the injuries, trades and personnel decisions that scattered the core of that magical ’01-’02 team. Despite six straight losing seasons. Despite a near move to Anaheim in 2011. And despite the team owners’ recent rejection of the best arena deal the city of Sacramento could muster.

Despite everything, Kings fans are lined up 5-feet deep at courtside, an hour before game time, a seething mass of purple and black, waving signs and pens and cameras, shouting to the players loosening up for a midweek, late-season contest that was meaningless in terms of postseason eligibility for either team.

“Jason! Jason! Sign my shoes? Jason!”

“Jimmer! One picture? Come on, Jimmer! Pleeeeeease!”

It’s true that fan support for the Kings has eroded in recent years, but probably not as much as could reasonably be expected. Judging by the blogs and the sports talk shows, fans are feeling anger, disappointment and betrayal, but you wouldn’t know it to visit Arco, even if it’s now called Power Balance Pavilion. They’re still here, and the story isn’t quite over.

“This atmosphere is special,” said fan Ron Rumford. “They’ve got true fans who love the team, love being here and seeing them get better, even through the bad times.”

“I love this team,” said Auradou, between shouts to Jason Thompson. “I don’t care if they play in a parking lot. I just want them here.”