SACRAMENTO -- My mom isn't a big sports fan; I’m thoroughly surprised when she decides to watch the Super Bowl. She barely understands the rules of football and got into baseball by my stepdad’s persistence. But as I grew up, she always loved watching basketball and the Sacramento Kings. She and I, among many more in the greater Sacramento region, adored the Kings. As the city's sole team, on any given night, it was the hottest ticket in town from the team’s arrival to around 2006, aka 1 A.A. (After Adelman).

I remember seeing Michael Jordan play his last game at ARCO Arena, being introduced to a rousing 3-minute standing ovation. I still get chills thinking about seeing His Airness live from the bottom level of the 17,317-seat, crappy, but always electric venue. I remember the snooty usher who gave me a nasty look and directed me back to my seat so I would stop taking pictures in the aisle. I remember that same usher chastised my mom as she tried to give a bereavement card to Bobby Jackson, her favorite player, after his mother had died.

I remember seeing Shaquille O’Neal’s last game in Sac as a Laker, as the Gary Payton-Kobe Bryant- Karl Malone-Shaq-Phil Jackson squad played, and ultimately lost, one of many battles of the once-epic rivalry. It was a month and a half before I learned that my mom filed for divorce from my dad. I can’t even imagine how much she spent on those tickets while paying lawyer fees.

I remember trying to find Mike Bibby’s house in my hometown of Davis. I remember crying as a 10-year-old when the Kings were eliminated in the 2002 Western Conference Finals. I remember seeing my favorite stars, Chris Webber and Peja Stojakovic, get traded. I remember going to Doug Christie’s basketball camp (with Jackie there, of course), where he whispered a secret to me about one of the camp’s coaches who shared my name.

I remember watching the end of an era. In one of the last playoff games ARCO hosted, the Seattle Supersonics and Jerome James (seriously) destroyed the Kings. The team wasn’t as good as it used to be, of course. It was the last game my mom and I attended -- for a while, at least.

But on the horizon, it appeared rebuilding would happen. They’d be back to being a top-four team in the West in no time.

We all know that didn’t happen.

It’s oddly fitting that the city that ended the franchise’s glory days may also end the Kings’ stay in California.

When the Kings were thought to be gone in 2011, the whole city mourned. Longtime television broadcasters Grant Napear and Jerry Reynolds signed off weeping. But Mayor Kevin Johnson snatched the franchise from the jaws of Anaheim and kept them in town while pushing an arena effort. He almost succeeded. Well, until he and the city were Maloof’d.

Now Seattle may get its Supersonics back, ripping a team away from another city in a similar vein theirs was ripped from them. But as Seattle cheers, the hypocrisy of stealing a franchise from a deserving market, who supported crappy and great teams alike, is not lost on anyone. Not to throw stones or say Seattle does not deserve a hoops team -- it does -- but the city of Sacramento fought and fought to keep the team in town. It worked tirelessly to create a palatable arena deal, which the Maloofs agreed to and shed tears of joy over. They raised hands with Johnson at halftime of a game, claiming victory, then backed out. Seattle (the city, not the fans) did essentially say, “Eff it. No arena deal. If you want to leave, leave.” Sacramento did not. It wants its team, no matter the disingenuous dealings of the owners or its current lack of prestige.

Regardless of semantics, both situations are terrible. Both fans deserve teams to root for and owners who are not unbelievably inept and scummy.

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I had to return home for what could be the last Kings game ever. Sitting in LAX, I called a friend reminding him of my return for the game. The guy to my left asked about the game. “It’s tonight? Not tomorrow?” He was going back to Sacramento, visiting home from his new home in Phoenix. He wanted to try to get tickets, to see what we both knew would be a special night. While we waited, the PA announced a flight to Seattle at our gate before ours to California’s capitol.

My mom and I arrived at the parking lot around 6:30 pm, an hour before tipoff. We moved to the "Playing To Win Tour" tailgate, where radio personality “Carmichael” Dave Weiglein posted up after a month-long, nationwide trek to spread awareness about keeping the Kings in town. His last stop was his first one: back in Sacramento, with a hundred strangers talking, cheering, chanting, hugging, linked by one thread.

“This is the fuel that got us through the tour,” Weiglein said. “Other than seeing my wife and my kids, this is also my family. People that don’t know each other, people that have never met before, we all speak the same language, and that’s Sacramento Kings. It’s amazing.

“Unless you’re in Sacramento, unless somebody from Chicago or Florida or New York or wherever, were standing here right now as we’re surrounded by Kings fans, and all the love and passion that we have, you can’t understand it unless you’re here,” he continued. “It also helps to be born and raised here, because Sacramento itself is its own language. It’s its own way of life. We don’t have the best reputation across the country as far as being a destination spot, but for those that are from here, there’s no better place to be. I’ve been all around the country in the last month, there’s no place I’d rather be than right here.”

When asked to verbalize what the team means to the region, Weiglein simply turned around and yelled, “Hey, Kings fans! Go Kings!” to which people enthusiastically reciprocated the sentiment. “That’s what the Kings mean to Sacramento.”

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The line to enter was the longest I’ve ever seen, down the winding path from the front door, almost pouring out into the parking lot by the southeast entrance. Prince’s “1999” was blaring. Inside, fittingly, it was akin to ARCO Arena before the dawn of the 21st century. The place was packed with people in black and purple attire. Only a handful of Clipper fans could score tickets. It was the kind of crowd that coined the famed and vaunted “ARCO Thunder” moniker. Without context, one would think it was a playoff game, or one of the league’s best teams playing at home. But it was a 53-loss squad, trapped in mediocrity. No one cared. It was their team.

The guy next to me was nervous the whole fourth quarter, clenching his beer with a vice-like grip. But after a Marcus Thornton 3-pointer or big play, he would look my way and give me a high-five. “We got this,” I would reply.

Though the game didn’t turn out the way anyone desired, with a 112-108 Clipper victory despite DeMarcus Cousins’s insane 36-point, 22-rebound performance, fans remained in the arena an hour after the game’s conclusion, chanting the typical “SAC-RA-MEN-TO” and “HERE WE STAY” cheers present all game.

Before moving to the lower level, a man with his girlfriend rested in his seat with a sullen look. He thought this was the end. I tapped him on his shoulder and said, “Hey, man. They’re gonna stay. See you next year.” He looked up and replied with a small smile, “Yeah, see you next year.”

After the game, Isaiah Thomas, Toney Douglas and Travis Outlaw came out to see the fans. A while later, head coach Keith Smart returned to the court to address the crowd, thanking the fans for showing up and displaying patience with the young team during the past season. Current assistant coach and fan favorite Bobby Jackson, the 2003 Sixth Man of the Year as a King, spoke to the crowd, concluding with a confident, “The Kings ain’t going anywhere.” Mom beamed.

Jason Thompson walked around the court, high-fiving the loyal fans who remained. Cousins made a quick appearance. Thornton popped out, signed a fan’s painting of him and left. Napear graciously acknowledged the crowd before departing with his wife and two sons, soaking in the moment before walking down the tunnel. To everyone, this was a celebration of the team and its fanbase. Two years ago, when perception was that the team would move to Anaheim, the final game was a wake. This atmosphere was jovial, celebratory.

“There’s no room in my brain right now to contemplate this team not staying,” Weiglein said. “If for some reason that’s what happens, it’s still gonna hurt just as bad as if I contemplated it right now. They’re not gonna leave. They’re gonna stay. We’re the good guys in this story, and that’s the way it goes. You have to believe in stuff like that, whether it’s impossible or feasible.”

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A future without the Kings back home would be tough. All the memories will still be there, but the chance to create more with friends or family won’t be. I’ve been trying to brainwash teach my 5-year-old nephew about sports. Not being able to take him to a professional game close by when he’s a bit older will suck. I can’t imagine my childhood without ARCO. All my friends were Kings fans growing up. Though some don’t follow the NBA anymore, we all still know about Game 6 and 2002. We all still hate Kobe for his elbow to Bibby’s face. And that is a common bond I will never trade for anything. Though the team may ultimately leave, our love of the Bench Mob, floppin’ Vlade Divac and Christie’s uppercut on Rick Fox’s chin will remain.

I’ve been bugging my mom about watching the Kings again. The last two years, I assured her they would at least be competitive, more so this year than last. Oops. I missed seeing how she would yell at the TV after someone made a crazy layup or was seemingly unjustly called for a foul. If the team had new owners and were good, at the very least, legitimately competitive for a playoff spot, she would return watching them. Many Sacramentans would -- look at Here We Buy.

“What do the Kings mean to Sacramento?” Weiglein asked. He then pointed to the fans at his tailgate. “It’s this. It’s amazing. It’s passion. It’s love. It’s positivity. And in this day and age, it’s tough currency to come by, and we’ve got it in leaps and bounds.”

The other night, my mom was in her prime. Screaming at the team like she used to, pumping her fists and exclaiming a Marv Albert-like “yes!” every time the team did well. It made me smile.

“It’s just not the same now without Chris and Vlade and Peja,” she says.

“I know, but they can be good soon,” I reply. I may be right. I could definitely be wrong. I just want to be able to see it up close.

Reach Senior Sports Editor Will Robinson here. Follow him here.