You thought the country was divided?
Try talking to Warriors fans in the Bay Area.
With the Warriors on Tuesday celebrating the ground-breaking of the futuristic Chase Center in San Francisco as their new home in 2019-20, the Bay has been split in two.
On the one side, led by Joe Lacob, Peter Guber and dancing, synchronized excavators, are those who embrace the Warriors move to The City. They see it as a chance to play in a brand new, 21st century shrine, in one of the most beautiful and historic cities in America.
On the other side, led by voices like Bay Area News Group’s Marcus Thompson, are East Bay Warriors fans who feel as if the Warriors are abandoning a passionate, diverse fan base that stood by the team for nearly 50 years, and abandoning for no good reason. The anti-San Francisco crowd argues that by playing in Oakland, the Warriors organization by osmosis takes on Oakland’s underdog appeal, and its soulful heart.
In other words, the anti-San Francisco crowd feels like the Warriors in Oakland take on the flow of a Too Short rhyme and the grit of a Tower of Power horn jam.
That same crowd would wonder why the Warriors would abandon that vibe for a city that has swapped an historic counter-culture ethos for a gentrified techie carnival of traffic and selfish attitudes.
In even harsher terms, as Thompson wrote, the message is that Oakland is “too violent, too ghetto, too ugly” for the Warriors ownership to call home.
Strong words, and a strong argument.
I come to you today on KNBR.com to try to do the impossible — acknowledge the anti-San Francisco argument as real, substantial and worthy … and yet, welcome the Dubs to San Francisco all the while.
Bottom line: San Francisco ain’t chopped liver.
The Warriors in The City not only is a return — the team played in San Francisco for most of 1961-1972 — but a move to a spectacular place, a great sports town, and a dynamic neighborhood that will offer a whole different world of pre- and post-game buzz.
It’s San Francisco.
With all due respect to my brethren in the South Bay — hey, my parents went to Mountain View High — San Francisco is not Santa Clara. (CoughJedYorkcough.)
Ultimately, the anti-San Francisco crowd finds their fuel not just from their pride in Oakland, but from a long-standing vibe that is just that: anti-San Francisco.
Where the anti-San Francisco history finds its roots in Oakland and the East Bay, we don’t have time to explore. But it’s there. And it’s too bad. It’s the divide that may never be solved. And I think it’s gotten worse in the last 30 years, as the Giants built AT&T Park and as the Raiders and A’s threatened to leave town. As sports got bigger in the Bay and in culture, East Bay and West Bay colors became more of a personality decision and lifestyle choice than ever before.
And East Bay/Oakland Warriors fans see this move as a betrayal. Understood. In a perfect world, the move would be viewed as an exciting new chapter in the Bay’s sports history. The Warriors were never Oakland’s team. They were, as the marketing gurus would be happy to tell you, the Bay’s team.
Of course the move is about money for Lacob and Guber. They can make more, they figure, selling corporate boxes and courtside seats at a shiny place in The City’s trendy new neighborhood. And Lacob is a Big Idea guy. You knew when he bought the team, part of him was saying: “I’m not playing in someone else’s arena. I’m building my own.”
Every four years, we have an election in the nation and we try to come out of it saying, “We’re one country! Let’s come together!” And it never works. Hell, there’s a dude being inaugurated on Friday who has Bruce Springsteen cover bands canceling gigs on his watch.
Seems like the human beast is built to pick sides, instead of circling up for a kumbaya hug. So be it.
The Warriors aren’t going anywhere. They’re in the Bay. They’ll be in The City. The City is fantastic and worthy and a thrilling place to be. They’re probably even keeping the Golden State Warriors name.
Listen, I’ve gone to games at Oracle since Bill King sat courtside and we didn’t call it Oracle. We called it the Oakland-Alameda County Coliseum Arena. I fell in love with Bernard King’s jump shot and Chris Mullin’s black high tops there.
My Dad told me he saw Wilt Chamberlain wear the Warriors jersey at the Civic Center Auditorium right next to San Francisco’s City Hall. Things change. The Giants left Candlestick. Things change. The 49ers left Kezar. Things change.
All things considered, the idea of the Golden State Warriors in San Francisco sounds pretty good.