Life's little ironies never stop to sleep: I'm driving home to Cipole where I'll pick-up my hoop addicted daughter and then head over to the Nike Global Challenge on a Friday afternoon. I'm listening to Blazer announcer Brian Wheeler and Kenny Vance asking their sportscentric listening audience to call in with what they think would be a great nickname for Greg Oden. Some call in witty ones, some idiotic and some pretty decent ones. I reflect on "Pineapple Express' and how Seth Rogen was the proverbial loser who, along with other losers, makes a habit of calling radio talk shows while fantasizing about becoming a radio talk show host. That's when the aliens seized my body and took over. Or maybe I had an 'outta body experience.' Either way, I started calling the radio station with the perfect nickname for Greg Oden. Except I either kept getting a busy signal or a wrong number before Wheels signed off and the Seahawks football game started. I was a double loser.

Maybe I time travelled to the not so distant future, or had a epiphany or maybe it was one of those dang flashbacks. Either way, I am compelled to share it with you. For I have seen Greg Oden's nickname of the future......

Are the Spurs Really Dinosaurs? It's the much anticipated Halloween Night opener against the San Antonio Spurs and the moment Portland Trailblazer fans have been dreaming of for over 18 months. The electricity in the Rose Garden makes the powerhouse at Bonneville Dam seem like a little hand cranked generator.  The CEO's from Planters and Blue Diamond are in attendance and in a bidding war for the rights to rename the Rose Garden knowing for the next decade this place will become the epitome of a place gone nuts. My wife and I are seated in the 100 Level  at midcourt after I had somehow won opening night tickets. Depends (the adult incontinent pad) had sponsored a contest for those who could pen a 'testimonial on why Depends was a lifesaver.' My submission on how I often bought Depends, repackaged them as the "Stadium Pal' and drew football's on them and then sold them to tailgaters to wear into Reser and Autzen Stadiums after too many cold adult deverages was declared the national winner. I knew one of my 2384 submissions would get at least a gift certificate.  

     Nobody was about to sit on this night. Even in warm-ups, every single fan was standing and yelling and smiling and glowing as if they'd just become a parent for the first time. Afterall, this had the feeling of long awaited rebirth of an organization. The Spurs were warming up in a plodding and methodical manner. Tim Duncan, 'The Big Fundamental,' was oblivious to the Blazers on the far end of the court acting like kids at Christmas. The Blazer Dancers even seemed to have an extra three or four inches in their vertical jump. The Star Spangled Banner was an eye-popper. Paul Allen trotted out one of his Jimi Hendrix favorites, stood at midscourt and played a solo. Quavering and emotional and tasteful it totally connected the awe-struck crowd. Even Mark Knopfler would have been proud of how Allen made his ax 'cry and sing.' As a doddering old geezer, Allen will recount it was one of his most treasured memories. The announcer then roll called the Spurs players and coaches to a loud but mixed chorus of boos and cheers. Then finally the moment when every hair on the back off 20,000 people started to rise as the lights started to dim. There must have been a 'black light' somewhere as Craig Sager's suit, which was a tribute to those tasty threads worn by Dr. Jack Ramsay during the "Glory Days' seemed to get brighter and brighter.

"From THE Ohio State University" Pandemonium was let out of the cage with the annoucement "And now for your undefeated Portland Trail Blazers" (they'd shocked the country in a nationally televised stunner a few nights earlier). For some reason even much of the staff was announced and people roared with joy and delight at Bob Medina's name (who's Bob Medina?). The roaring and screaming was so loud no single sound could be heard. Even the announcer's voice was but a garbled blob of noise with the announcement of the fourth starter, the beloved B-Roy. After what seemed like a Moses-like 40 year walk across the desert it was finally 'Odentime.' The announcer stopped yelling above the dim. The videoscreen above midcourt stopped showing flashing lights and instead played what looked like a still pool of water. Serene and peaceful. Like a pond up in the Japanese Gardens.  The crowd slowly quieted. Something was up. We all knew it.  Faintly, very subtle we felt a little tremble as the videoscreen showed the slightest of wakes upon the pool of water. Then a more pronounced rumble not unlike a tiny earthquake rocked the Rose Garden as the pool grew a little more agitated. What very few people had known was that Paul Allen had installed the mothers of all bass woofers underneath the Rose Garden just for these moments. I want you to think of Jeff Goldblum, laying in the back of a jeep in 'Jurassic Park' with a mangled leg and a sense of fear now imploring the others it was time to GO after watching a mudpuddle coming to life.  Oh boy, this was going to be good and we knew it. The rumbles in the Rose Garden were reaching about a 6.0 on the Richter and the pool of water on the videoscreen was now rocking and rolling and the fans were starting to get noisy when the loud slam of the first guitar chords struck hard. Those haunting bass notes so familiar from the 70's and everyone knew it. Those first few musical notes blew the lid clean off the Rose Garden.  Greg Oden's name had arrived. Paul Allen had also got together a copy band and redid the lyrics. Even the other Blazers were surprised by this unexpected announcement and loving every second of it. It was Blue Oyster Cult's homage to a Japanese icon. Except the lyrics replaced the pool of water....and went like this.

With a purposeful grimace and a terrible sound

He fireblasts shots and pulls backboards down

The Lakers were like people on a subway train

Screaming bugeyed when they came in 'the lane'

chorus

O no they say its time to go

let's go GO-zilla

O no there goes San Antonio

all hail GO-zilla

I was joyously air guitaring in the moment and screaming along with the lyrics along with the rest of the crowd as the announcer in the background called him out onto the court and he sheepishly ran out to his laughing teammates. Suddenly a car horn was blaring and the aliens released me or my flashback ended. Several cars were impatient that I speed through the green light and I drove off down Boones Ferry Road as Jordan Kent caught a touchdown pass for the Seahawks.

"I Cipole, being of questionable mind and questionable body, do hereby state....I just may be back watching the Blazers after a lengthy sabbatical. I don't know how long ago it was I got my family up out of our 300 Level seats early in the fourth quarter, after watching Bonzi Wells and the Blazers get dimantled by 30 and vowing to never return. I felt rooting for high school athetes and college athletes was a far nobler cause. And a whole lot better return on the investment. However, as a kid my alltime favorite movie was an English monster movie made in 1961 called "Gorgo" which was along the lines of 'Gojira' the Japanese 1954 classic. Then it was Godzilla. Everywhere a "GO" has always captured my imagination and adoration. Here's hoping the new version of GOzilla will provide years of entertainment as he strikes fear into those who come into his path.