Between the magical Golden State Warriors game on June 10, 2019 — an NBA finals watch party at Oracle Arena with no players on the floor — and the seven-county Bay Area shutdown on March 17, I must have enjoyed dozens if not hundreds more pre-pandemic group outings.
The Chronicle archives confirm I reviewed the “Sonic the Hedgehog” movie in February 2020. There must have been some other people there. I coached an underdog youth basketball team, went to birthdays and family gatherings, and had drinks after work.
But in the constantly morphing time warp of the coronavirus era, that strange Warriors game feels like the final pre-pandemic hurrah — my “last crowd memory,” even though it happened a full seven months before COVID-19 emerged in the Bay Area.
The Warriors were on the road down 3-1 against the Toronto Raptors, in a series even the most dedicated fans had accepted as over. Ten thousand people poured into Oracle Arena, the Bay Area’s latest dead-man-walking sports venue — opened so fans could watch on outdated video screens hanging over an empty basketball court as the team played 2,600 miles away. And somehow that created the perfect Bay Area moment, one that feels less like history and more like an idyllic future.
Is it better to view the last crowd memory as a slowly fading picture, or a path to a possible joyous time to come? Why does that group outing remain in your head? And how does it help us move forward?
As the pandemic drags on, days can feel like years, making the recent past seem strangely distant.
Send the memory of the last group outing you remember (and a photo if you took one) to Peter Hartlaub at phartlaub@sfchronicle.com. Submissions may be used for a future San Francisco Chronicle project.
Memories of sporting events and birthday parties are now fodder for anxiety dreams, wondering why you forgot to bring a mask. Just as the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks felt like the end of comedy as we knew it (remember wondering if “Saturday Night Live” would ever come back on the air?), the pandemic feels like the death of camaraderie. Standing shoulder-to-shoulder and screaming next to strangers is unimaginable — and currently banned by government order.
But that feeling of permanence is an illusion, as conversations with centenarian survivors of the last pandemic prove. Depending on your age and advances in medical science, you may have 100 more years filled with new life in a reborn and recharged city. There will come a time when, on more days than not, people don’t think about COVID-19.
Walking over the event-in-itself pedestrian bridge between BART and the Oakland Arena on June 10, 2019, felt like a melancholy trip to say goodbye. The Toronto Raptors beat the injury-depleted Warriors twice that week in Oakland. The second loss sent the Warriors to Toronto in a do-or-die Game 5 in the NBA Finals, which meant Warriors fans had likely seen their last Oakland home game before the team’s move to San Francisco.
The Warriors opened up Oracle one last time, so NBA basketball fans could say goodbye, watching what most assumed would be a loss, in an arena running on vapors.
During the best years of the Oracle crowds (often some of the worst years for the team), that space was the consummate sports ecosystem. The more affluent fans in the lower 100s section and more working-class fans in the upper 200s were in perfect sync, both tiers knowledgeable of basketball, both tiers proud to have a team in the city. The “Roaracle” legend was built with these two groups, who blended nearly seamlessly into the hallways and cramped stairwells after the game, chanting “Let’s Go Warriors” together, not really caring in the most euphoric moments who had been sitting where.
As the team got better, and a new arena broke ground in San Francisco, the synergy died a little with each game. That crowd from the 200s section were mostly priced out, as season ticket-holders in the 100s weighed whether to go to games or sell tickets that were now worth roughly as much as college tuition payments. In the old days you’d only see the locally famous — rappers E-40, Too $hort and Mistah F.A.B. were regulars. In the new days, Beyoncé, Prince and (in one bizarre moment) Bernie Sanders came to Warriors games.
But none of those national celebrities likely knew or cared about that last game on June 10, 2019, in a building devoid of basketball stars. It was the Bay Area’s day. The arena seemed filled with the pre-dynasty Oakland crowds, passed through some portal in time. And never mind that the floor was empty, with the actual Warriors in another country. Never mind that the arena’s ancient video screens, with the boxy 1.33-to-one aspect ratio of a 1980s television, made the viewing experience multiple times worse than watching at home.
The power was in the people, united in their team and community, with nothing to lose.
One of my favorite genres of music is best described as death dreams. Songs that describe a day so eerily perfect that the listener is left to question whether the subject is actually deceased, and the artist is describing heaven. Ice Cube’s “It Was a Good Day” may be the most iconic song in the genre. Robert Earl Keen’s “Feelin’ Good Again” is the best one I’ve heard.
The June 10, 2019, game at Oracle Arena was like a death dream, except it 100% existed in real life. Something unexpected and wonderful, as the group’s shared experience transcended the limitations of the moment and the venue.
The Chronicle’s Jill Tucker captured the scene in a June 11, 2019, Chronicle article:
“The never-say-die crowd had hoped, perhaps prayed, it wouldn't be the last time they'd root for the Warriors in Oakland. Every two-point shot yielded a deafening cry while the 3-pointers seared the arena’s Roaracle nickname into the rafters.
“Not yet, they said. Not quite yet.”
Confetti rains down on cheering fans following the Warriors win during a watch party for Game 5 of the NBA Finals between the Golden State Warriors and the Toronto Raptors at Oracle Arena in Oakland, Calif., on Monday, June 10, 2019.
Michael Short / Special to The Chronicle“Let’s go Warriors” chants echoed everywhere. The scene reached another level at halftime, as the Warriors’ DJ came out and played a seamless mix of every East Bay hall of fame rap anthem, from F.A.B.’s “N.E.W. Oakland” to Short’s “Blow the Whistle” to E-40’s “Yay Area” to Mac Dre’s “Feelin’ Myself.” No one near me left their seats except to stand up, dance and sing along.
And thousands of miles away, the Warriors seemed to honor the moment. After Kevin Durant went down with what turned out to be an Achilles tear, heroic fourth-quarter defense elevated the team to an ultra-gritty 106-105 win. I’ve been to 100 Warriors games with actual players on the court. And I’ve never seen a team lift a crowd higher.
It was the kind of organic perfection that existed in the Bay Area before the pandemic, and that we can strive for again — maybe not just as a one-off, but as a way of life.
The Roaring ’20s seem like a myth at this point — a group of people who had endured a pandemic and a world war, filled with gratitude to be together again, and realizing they had the power to create their own fun. People with love for each other because of what they had accomplished not just together, but for each other.
The Bay Area was capable of creating a legendary time before the pandemic, whether it was an epic halftime rap medley at a player-free Oracle Arena, a philanthropist gifting the city a bluegrass festival, or broke artists creating a storytelling series or a comedy festival out of nothing. And we’ll be there again soon.
There’s a reason why we’re holding on to the perfect memories — not just the last time we remember being in a group, but the last time we really felt something together. There’s a reason your last family Thanksgiving or last concert at Bottom of the Hill or last great pickup basketball game have leapfrogged more recent memories as reminders of how good our lives could be.
They’re not inaccessible pieces of the past. But another light at the end of the tunnel that should burn brighter and brighter until we’re finally together again.
Peter Hartlaub is the San Francisco Chronicle’s culture critic. Email: phartlaub@sfchronicle.com Twitter: @PeterHartlaub
"crowd" - Google News
February 11, 2021 at 07:03PM
https://ift.tt/3aYUIze
What’s your last pre-pandemic crowd memory? A Warriors watch party resonates in 2021 - San Francisco Chronicle
"crowd" - Google News
https://ift.tt/2YpUyMI
https://ift.tt/2KQD83I
Bagikan Berita Ini
0 Response to "What’s your last pre-pandemic crowd memory? A Warriors watch party resonates in 2021 - San Francisco Chronicle"
Post a Comment