Last week at the Moore, during Glen Hansard and Markéta Irglová's concert, hundreds of audience members sang along with the Oscar-winning hit "Falling Slowly." This amazing moment happens at every concert, whether it is hundreds of thousands of fans singing "Bridge Over Troubled Water" in Central Park or 12 fans singing in Neumo's.
Yes, the concert sing-along is a cliché, but I've participated in hundreds of them. Once, I took my mom to a Neil Diamond concert and discovered that I knew the lyrics to every song.
Rock music is embedded in the American DNA. And NBA basketball is embedded in the DNA of certain fans.
When I first took my wife to Sonics games, she was amazed that I could tell her who was going to take the next shot, or more important, miss the next shot. I could tell her who was going to set a monster screen or commit a stupid foul. I know the game like other people know "Stairway to Heaven."
There are hundreds of us hyperliterate fans at every Sonics game. We are the elitist assholes who glare at you when you ask your seatmate, "What's illegal defense?"
To us, that's like asking, "Who's Chuck Berry?"