Rip City Revival

            When the Blazers won the Western Conference Finals, in 1990, I was only seven years old. I remember watching the games with my mother—a staunch Blazer fanatic­—in the living room of the house I grew up in. The Blazers eventually lost that series to the Detroit Pistons, but it secured my fandom. Then, a 28-year-old named Clyde Drexler was the hero of the City of Roses, and watching him “Glide” —his nickname—is the reason I am a fanatic, like my mother. Are people really supposed to be able to jump that high, and stay up there that long? They can, and Clyde did it with the best. He would jump from the free-throw line, and glide towards the basket, seemingly still elevating, and put down a one-handed tomahawk like it was second nature. He is the reason I love basketball.

 The subsequent years were good to the Blazers, thirteen more post-season berths, two more visits to the Western Conference Finals, and another heart breaker at the hands of some guy named Michael—I guess he’s pretty good—Jordan, in the 1992 NBA Finals. Even though we didn’t win a championship in this time, it was the golden age of the Portland Trail Blazers. The fans had a consistently good team to root for, and personnel the city could be proud of. The town was given the name Rip City, after a particularly nasty dunk, by then announcer Bill—the Schonz— Schonley. But, Conference Finals appearances turned into first round exits, which slowly gave way to a plethora of marijuana charges, dog-fighting rings and sullied expectations. The team I knew, and loved as a child was gone, and in 2004, the Blazers failed to make the playoffs for the first time in 27 years, the longest stretch in NBA history.  The team, as I knew it, was disassembled. Coaches, general managers and players were traded, fired, and let go every other week. It was official. Rip City was dead.

            Now, I couldn’t say exactly when Rip City died, but I can tell you that it was revived, June 28, 2006. The Blazers shipped the last of the Jail Blazers, Zach Randolph, to the New York Knicks, for former All-Star, Steve Francis. Francis’ eighteen million dollar contract was immediately bought out, with no intention of Steve ever sporting Blazer black, white and crimson. They took LaMarcus Aldridge in the number two spot—a six-foot eleven power forward, who can run the floor like a gazelle—with a draft day trade of our number four pick. But the paradigm happened four picks later, when the Blazers selected Brandon Roy, from the University of Washington. 

            By the end of his third season, Roy has solidified his super-stardom. Getting the nod for rookie-of-the-year and back-to-back all star appearances in his second and third seasons. He carried the team on his back, including an eleven game increase in wins his first season, nine games in his second, and thirteen for the 2008-2009 season. Going from 32 to 41 wins isn’t anything to shake your head at, but going from 41 to 54 wins in the toughest Western Conference in years, is downright impressive. This year I was fortunate enough to procure my slice of Rip City, with season tickets to watch my team play.

The stand out moment of the season was definitely November 6, 2008. The Rockets were visiting from Houston, and the Rose Garden was ignited. It was only the second home game of the season, and the team had started out with a lowly one and three record. At the end of regulation the game was tied, and headed for overtime. In the extra period, the two teams exchanged shots, and with eight seconds to go, the game was tied at 96. The Rockets called a timeout, and immediately went to Tracy McGrady for the would-be game winner, a miss. Brandon Roy collected the rebound and proceeded down court, taking matters into his own hands. No timeout for Portland here, just its All-Star, employing his bedlam of fundamental skills—which lends to his nickname, “The Natural.” After a jab step threw defender, Shane Battier, disrupting him enough to cause him to fall, Roy spun on Ron Artest, arguably the league’s best perimeter defender, and drained a fade away to put the Blazers up by two, also leaving Ron ass-over teakettle. Roy was—as always—calm, collected, and cool as the other side of the pillow. The Rockets called their final timeout, and with 1.8 seconds remaining, Yao Ming—the world’s most popular player, but he does have one billion people on his side—turned on Joel Przybilla, scored and was fouled. Hitting from the charity stripe, Yao put Houston up by one, with .8 seconds remaining. Timeout Portland. There was no question who’s hand would be on the ball. With one shot at victory, Nate McMillan—Portland’s Coach—called number seven again. I was in attendance, and was one of 20,000 people on hand, standing for what had already seemed like an hour. Steve Blake was set to inbound, with seven-foot-six Ming guarding him.  I whispered to my good friend Erik, “ESPN top play of the night right here.”

Play action began, and Roy started his move towards the ball, leaving Artest, and Battier in the dust. When he caught the ball, about six feet beyond the three-point arc, on the left wing, he shot the ball the only way he could, high and hard. His feet set perfectly beneath him, and the ball left his hands. The rainbow of a shot, rose and almost in slow motion reached its pinnacle, and then began its descent. Brian “Wheels” Wheeler, the Blazer’s radio announcer, was calling the game, “Blake now throws to Roy, Brandon a three pointer out top… Hit it! Yes he did! Oh yeah! The Natural, buries a thirty-footer, at the shot clock buzzer, and the Blazers run off the court, a winner by two!” Brandon, pulled his shirt out from his shorts, and gave the befuddled Rockets his best “my house,” stare. The Fans, 20,000 strong, gave a roar that could easily rival any from the days of the Memorial Coliseum. This isn’t where the Rip City revival was born, but this is definitely when it was confirmed.

The 2008-2009 season marked the return of Rip City to Portland. The Blazers bested all playoff bound teams at least once, except Cleveland—they have this guy, LeBron something or another, that I suppose knows how to play basketball fairly decently. With a record of 54 wins, and 28 losses, the Blazers tied for second place in the Western Conference, and first in the Northwest Division, including the best record against the Eastern Conference, by any West team. They also fiercely defended home court, only losing seven times at the Rose Garden. In April, the team returned to the post-season for the first time in six years, playing the very same Houston Rockets, which Roy had demoralized in Portland, the previous fall. Although we lost the series, we did gain six games of Playoff experience, something none of our role players had. With an average age of 24-years-old, the only direction this team can go is up, which they have already done in leaps and bounds. Rip City is back and better then ever. In the famous words of Wheels, “…and we can once again say, it’s a great day to be a Blazer.”

Hello everyone, this is my first post. I have been a Blazers fan since before I can remember, I was born and raised in Portland, and have been a season ticket holder for the last two seasons. With that said, I am very excited about the paradigm shift that has happened with out team and am looking forward to a wonderful season. 

I have only one concern with the team: Jersey Numbers. 

Our new young center Greg Oden #52 is wearing the number of the great Buck Williams #52. I'm not doubting that Greg is going to be exactly what we need, but does giving him this number and leaning the franchise on him for years to come ensure that Buck will never gain his rightful, and deserved, place in the rafters at the Garden?

Others that particularly offend me, 

Travis Outlaw #25, Jerome Kersey #25

Sergio Rodriguez #11, Arvydis Sabonis #11.