Michael Ventre

For many years, Al Davis and his Raiders have represented the gold standard among sports franchises when it comes to abandoning one city and crashing another. In the early 1980s, Davis waged a bitter legal war with Pete Rozelle and the NFL over whether the Raiders could leave Oakland and move to Los Angeles. After reams of legal briefs had been issued and countless billable hours had been amassed, the Raiders won the right to relocate to the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum in 1982.

Forget for a moment that Davis took his team back to Oakland again, and indeed might have moved three or four more times if he followed through on threats. Davis’ method was old school: Full frontal assault. He ran through L.A.’s city limits as if he were storming Normandy Beach, and foes be damned.

That method has worked for other franchises as well, including the NFL’s Colts, Browns (who became the Ravens) and the Rams, and the NBA’s Kings, Hornets and Grizzlies.

But we live in more sophisticated times, and they call for more strategic thinking. Clay Bennett, an Oklahoma City businessman, understood this and that’s why he opted for an approach that included the kind of infiltration not seen since “The Manchurian Candidate.”

And as a result, Bennett’s way of doing things may have supplanted the Davis method in modern American sports.

On Wednesday, it was announced that the City of Seattle and the Sonics had reached a settlement in their lawsuit. Seattle had sought to force the team to complete the terms of its lease, which would have kept the moribund club in the Pacific Northwest for the coming two seasons. But Bennett broke out his checkbook and, when it is all over, may end up paying $75 million to move the franchise to Oklahoma, where a new arena awaits.

Bennett came to Seattle as a savior. The franchise was crumbling, the fans were grumbling, and the players were stumbling. Attendance was down, and the once-proud days of Lenny Wilkens, Fred Brown, Slick Watts, Gus Williams, Dennis Johnson, Jack Sikma, Tom Chambers and others were just a Space Needled memory.

At first, he said he would keep the team in Seattle if the club could get a new arena from state and local officials. Meanwhile, one of his partners, Aubrey McClendon, announced to an Oklahoma City newspaper that, “We didn’t buy the team to keep it in Seattle; we hoped to come here.” Apparently McClendon, who was fined a quarter of a million bucks by the NBA for his remarks, was of the belief that the only way folks in the Pacific Northwest could get news all the way from Oklahoma was by pony express.

Then Bennett explained, “As absolutely remarkable as it may seem, Aubrey and I have never discussed moving the Sonics to Oklahoma City, nor have I discussed it with any other member of the ownership group.”

He was right about one thing: That seems absolutely remarkable.

E-mails surfaced during depositions for the lawsuit brought by Seattle that suggested the Oklahoma City owners were hornswoggling the populace in Washington and never had any intention of staying there, with or without new digs.

NBA commissioner David Stern took time out from looking naïve over RefGate to weigh in on the Bennett matter. He put his lawyer hat on, ignored the subterfuge that was blatant, and announced that he supported the Sonics’ owners and believed they acted in good faith. He knew he probably would lose in court, and indeed accepted that the Oklahoma City carpetbaggers pulled a fast one with precision and he could do nothing about it even if he wanted to, which he didn’t.

So now, after about two years of posturing, the Sonics are on their way to Oklahoma, barring any obstacles put forth by the remaining lawsuit brought by former owner Howard Schultz, who apparently misses ruining a sports franchise and wants in again.

This whole episode opens the gates for anyone to move a franchise in a more insidious way. Because of the 24-hour news cycle, people perform dastardly acts in public life and private business and get away with them because attention is quickly diverted by The Next Thing That Comes Along and outrage dissipates almost as rapidly as it builds.