One game left?

How is this even possible?

A professional sports franchise should be an uplifting, unifying force, a great escape from war and the economy and the trials of daily life. But that's not what is happening here. This relocation ordeal is inflicting pain and suffering on a region that embraced the Kings like family members for the better part of three decades.

It's the place, and it's the people, and this became a special place a long, long time ago. Green Bay. Chicago. Salt Lake City. Portland. Sacramento, absolutely.

"I remember when Don Nelson and I were working in Milwaukee and we came here for the first time in 1985," former Kings coach Garry St. Jean recalled. "We won the game at the old Arco Arena by 30 or 40 points, and with three minutes left, everybody stood up and gave the Kings a standing ovation. We're looking at each other like, 'Huh?' Then before we got on the bus for the trip to the Bay Area, these nice concession people come running up with boxes of hot dogs, chips. We were riding away, saying, 'This is going to be a great place.' "

It was. It is. If the Maloofs file for relocation to Anaheim in the next few days, as expected, there will be plenty of recriminations.

The culprits in city and county governments know their names; creativity and collaboration have not proven to be their strengths. Geoff Petrie's stomach will churn because of some of his coaching choices and his slow response to the end of the Chris Webber/Vlade Divac era. Owners Joe and Gavin Maloof might even admit that they became so successful so quickly, so captivated by their sudden celebrity, that they lost their way. They stopped taking care of their basketball business, and, as a result, their basketball business went to hell.

But that's for tomorrow. Tonight is about a special place, special fans, and, yes, a special opponent: Kings fans should give Phil Jackson a rousing ovation when the Lakers visit in what could become a historic sports shutdown.

Our Friend Phil. Wow. How bizarre that someone from Deer Lodge, Mont. – the coach who orchestrated the heartbreak in the 2002 Western Conference finals – would have Sacramento's back as the Maloofs trot off to the NBA board of governors meeting in New York.

OK, so we know Jackson speaks for his boss, Jerry Buss, and for his companion, Jeanie Buss, neither of whom wants a third team entering their Southern California market. But this is Jackson. Despite the constant smirk and repeated pokes – he labeled Sacramento a cow town, remember – he appreciates passion. He also represents a lot of folks in this league when he rips the Kings leaving and reappearing as Royals, the attendance slump notwithstanding.

"Fan expectations change," observed Kings executive Jerry Reynolds, "and I think that's all that has really happened here. We went through so many great years. Our fans want better teams, and, unfortunately, we haven't had the product that 17,000 want to come see every night."

Or at least, want to pay to see every night. People still care. People still watch. It wasn't until the Kings' departure began to appear imminent that the locals began donning the emotional shields. The thought that their only major professional team might be improving just as it scoots away is almost cruel.

Cover pro sports in multiple cities for numerous years, and you learn the difference. Other places support their teams. Here, the team is taken to heart.

One of my neighbors' parents, both in their 80s, named their cat Peja. Fans snaked around a record store – waited for almost four hours – for Divac's autograph and his request to help orphans in the Balkans. Webber was incredible with kids. DeMarcus Cousins spends hours at charity events.

Then there's Joel Shannon. Joel Shannon is really why the Kings matter, why the business of pro sports is increasingly unconscionable.

Joel Shannon was an 11-year old who died from an esophageal defect in February 2007, while a Kings game played on a TV in the background. According to his mother, Joel wanted to be Divac, look like Kevin Martin, shoot like Mike Bibby. His bedroom was a purple shrine to the Kings and the Monarchs. When the ambulance arrived at the family's home in South Land Park for a final time, Joel was re-reading Jerry Reynolds' memoirs.

"The Kings were such a comfort," Susan Weiss-Shannon told me after her son's passing. On Monday, she emailed to express her sadness at the prospect of the team's departure and because, she wrote, her family still cares.

© Copyright The Sacramento Bee. All rights reserved.

Call The Bee's Ailene Voisin, (916) 321-1208.

• Read more articles by Ailene Voisin