Free Ballin’

Why are you here? I’ve asked so many people that question, over the last four months. Are you originally from Sacramento? Do you have family near Greenville? Was it Orlando, death, or tiki? I want to know why people are where they are. Family, school, work, and work-release are common answers. But people move to Portland because it’s Portland; and more than any other city I’ve visited on this trip, understanding Portland is essential to understanding their Blazer fans, and the role the team plays in the community.

That people go to Portland for its own sake isn’t unique among the cities I’ve visited. People go to Miami because it’s Miami, Asheville because it’s Asheville, even Atlanta, to a certain extent, because it’s Atlanta. In each case, there’s something inherent to the city’s ethos, it’s ineffable “vibe”, that draws people. And it’s a positive feedback cycle; when a bunch of people go to the same place, looking for the same vibe, they find it, and that vibe becomes ever more robust by virtue of their additions—which in turn makes the place even more attractive to the like-minded. But unlike Miami and Atlanta, who struggle to create an NBA basketball culture, the Portland vibe draws Portlanders to the Rose Garden Arena and fuels their enthusiasm for the Trailblazers.

I was an exception, by the way. I didn’t move to Portland because it’s Portland. I lived in Portland last year because that’s where I was when I ran out of money; I think this is largely why I remained a visitor. Even now, the irony that I am couchsurfing in a city in which I have an apartment—sublet through the NBA season—is appropriate, given my relationship with Portland. It’s a queer relationship, I think, being an unintentional resident (seemingly the only one) in a place so many people long to inhabit. It isn’t that I don’t like the Portland; I do, but I found it a might difficult to truly integrate myself in a place the primary attraction of which is drawing together people who want to be there. Instead, I was a visitor in a city that has nothing for visitors. Indeed, my father came to visit me a month after I arrived and the first day he asked me where we should go. What was there to see in Portland? I started, “Well, there’s…” but I couldn’t think of anything; I still can’t. Save the roses, when in bloom, there’s almost nothing must-see in Portland. It’s the inverse of New York City: a great place to live, but not to visit.

Don’t take my word for it. Ask any Portlander what there is to see in the city, and 90% of them will list Powell’s in the top five. That’s Powell’s, the small chain of large bookstores. “Well, have you been to Powell’s yet?” Powell’s? I should go to…buy a book? Indeed, Powell’s is the answer to many questions, in Portland. Just go on Citysearch and look for a great inexpensive place to take a date in PDX. That’s right: Powell’s, because nothing says romance like loitering in a bookstore.

Of course I don’t make a practice of telling locals I feel this way, or even saying it aloud, because any time I’ve said anything remotely ungushing about Portland, someone looks at me with terrible hurt in their face, as though I had just said their newborn baby looks like an embryo chicken. They shouldn’t feel that way. Being a great place to live, but not visit, is a boon to everyone in the city who doesn’t work in the tourism sector. Trust me, I’m a Newyorker who loathes the subway and walks everywhere. But even I find it necessary to take the subway from West 59^th street to West 23^rd street, to avoid the gridlock of tourism hell that is Midtown Manhattan.

Oh, I have affection for Portland, as well. Decent Ethiopian cuisine within an hour’s drive of great hiking and skiing, and under two hours from the pacific ocean? Gotta respect that. In general, I find Portland to be a nice place to spend one’s time when not luxuriating in the Oregon outdoors. Also, it’s hard not to find Portland’s earnestness charming—and highly amusing. I’ve never been to a place more desirous of distinctness; and that need spills into every conversation you’ll have with a Portlander about their city. It spills into the stands at the Rose Garden, too.

Some Portlanders speak of an all-but-imaginary tension between neophytes and natives, but I don’t see it. Or if it’s there, the locals certainly aren’t helping to keep newbies away—not even dreaded Californians. Whenever a local tells me about how things have changed, aren’t what they were, all these new people, they conclude by giving me a sales pitch for the city. That’s why I feel comfortable anthropomorphizing Portland: every last person here gives the impression of being something more than a shareholder in their city. In fact, Portland would best be defined as a city in which Portlanders live. And I feel that watching the Blazers, whether at the Rose Garden or Claudia’s, is even more about celebrating Portland than basketball.

Oh, that isn’t to say they don’t love their hoops here; 814 straight sellouts attest to that. I am curious about the reasons for the end of the streak and ebbing attendance, following it. You might figure it was because the Rose Garden has 8,000 more seats than the Memorial Coliseum, but they remained close to capacity in the new arena those first few years, despite the team’s decline. But I still recall reading about empty seats. Maybe there were a bunch of new corporate seats that weren’t regularly filled, when they stopped winning? I’m not sure. If it was difficult to get new Portlanders interested in the team, it may well have had a lot to do with them not winning, and the whole Jail Blazers thing—but I don’t think that quite covers it. Every single Portland immigrant I’ve met in the last year-and-a-half is so excited to be here. Finding a job—any job—friends, a place to live, a place in the community, for them just being here is destiny manifested; it’s winning. It seems perfectly understandable then, that those new Portlanders, without any Blazers roots, weren’t filling the stadium for a losing team. Losing was incongruous with their Portland experience. They couldn’t identify with something that wasn’t on the way up.

They do now. But I don’t think they’re fair-weather fans; they’re new fans, discovering something. The Trailblazers marketing department knows it. Their Rise with Us slogan is canny, but longtime fans don’t need it. Rather, it’s a message that resonates with the transplants and their desire to immerse themselves in the local culture of the city.  They all want to be Portlanders.  And Blazerness, the team encourages, is synonymous with Portlander-ness. The Blazers’ attendance figures indicate that it’s working, and so do other indicators of popularity. I have no idea what the Blazers television ratings look like, but I’m told the Blazers Edge is the most popular NBA team blog around, and my Portlander friends who couldn’t care less about basketball, when I met them, are talking Blazers. And I think the new fans will stick, long after Brandon “Beaver Cleaver” Roy retires. [Seriously, is there an NBA player more likely to say, “gee, shucks”? I think that's why they didn't trade for Richard Jefferson. An NBA locker room can only sustain a certain number of non-cussing players before what's endearing corrupts the warrior spirit. Those two and Greg Oden would have taken it over the edge.]

The combination of old faithfuls and new fans certainly makes for a great arena experience, a cacophony rivaled only by Oklahoma City and Utah, among the teams I’ve seen on this trek. It’s a significant component of my holding on to my Portland apartment. I’ll certainly never be a Blazer fan—I have a team—but it’s plenty fun to be in the thick of the movement.