Dear NBA,

You probably remember me. It’s Squatch, the former mascot of the Seattle SuperSonics. I have a lot of free time on my hands these days, ever since y’all left town in 2008.

How have you been? Did that Lebron fellow ever bring a championship home to Cleveland? How many more rings did Kobe end up getting?

Ah, shoot. I can’t keep up this façade much longer; it’s harder for me to keep a straight face than you might think. I know the league has been thriving over the past decade, what with a new generation of fans being introduced to an exciting new style of ball. With football’s safety issues and baseball’s inability to appeal to the younger generation, the NBA is Facebook to their Myspace.

There were so many good times, though, like the time Ray Allen hit 88 threes in a row in practice. Or all the times Gary Payton played lock-down defense and talked trash right to opponents’ faces. Or the time Shawn Kemp tried dunking the traditional model of fatherhood.

You think I wouldn’t maul some innocent hiker just to be at a Sonics game again? It’s been eight and a half years since I even dunked a basketball. The only things I’ve been dunking these days are donuts and my childhood dreams of being a professional mascot.

The worst part of it all is no one will let me be a mascot for them. I tried Papa Murphy’s but they just gave me a free pizza to get me to leave, although I don’t even have an oven. Taco Bell turned me down too, and they’re not even in the top three of fast food chains with taco in the title.

I tried being a mascot for an Ultimate Frisbee team that plays at the park near the woods I live in. They just threw their Frisbees at me and ran away screaming. Why is everyone so scared of me?

I can’t even keep a regular job. I worked at Office Depot for five months until I was let go for stealing staples. They weren’t even name brand, Keith; if you’re reading this, you ruined my resume.

I worked as a park ranger for the national park system for a while too, which was going well until hikers started trying to kidnap me. This one guy came at me with a net like he was Chuck Norris or something and I punted him across a lake. Needless to say, I didn’t last too long with the national park system, either.

Yeah, life is pretty hard out here in the forest. Reception stinks, I don’t even have TiVo, I can’t watch Sunday Ticket, my fantasy football team is terrible, and a squirrel ate my alarm clock. Hey, at least Kevin Durant finally left Oklahoma City, most likely because he was tired of Oklahoma City.

Life could be worse though, right? I could be a NFL mascot and have to report to the Darth Vader of commissioners. Roger Goodell is like Darth Vader, except without the charm and cool suit.

Bring the NBA back to Seattle, Portland’s older step sister who went to law school but now owns her own bookstore cafe and just loves the freedom that comes with running your own business. The Mariners and Seahawks have been thriving in the Pacific Northwest for decades, as did the Sonics before they were rudely plucked from their nest like a baby bird whose mother turned her back.

Remember when the 520 floating bridge wasn’t tolled and Key Arena used to bump a couple nights a week every winter? When Desmond Mason used to throw down alley oops with the impunity of a pack of wolves taking down an innocent antelope? When Gary Payton used to pound the ball between his legs like it stole his lunch money?

Most of all, remember the fans? We had the best fans. Sonics forever, baby.

Best Regards,

Squatch