Ailene Voisin

Once his purchase of the Kings is finalized, Vivek Ranadive should take a pick and a shovel, perhaps borrow a battering ram and a bulldozer, and obliterate the section of Sleep Train Arena that houses the team's basketball operations.

The Kings are staying in Sacramento. Can we say that again? The Kings are staying in Sacramento.

Several of the key figures in this Kings ordeal have been characterized as cartoon characters, extortionists, bullies (by me), greedheads and, occasionally, just typical, astute businessmen in pursuit of the American dream.

Don't you just hate bullies? People who hide behind their portfolios and their publicists? Billionaires who sneak around corners and sucker-punch with their financial data? Wannabe NBA owners who throw temper tantrums – in this case by tossing more cash into the coffer – days after the league's relocation committee recommends keeping the Kings in Sacramento by a unanimous vote?

If this Kings drama comes to a logical conclusion next week, with new owners and the promise of a new arena, and with the team's future secured and rubber-stamped by the NBA board of governors, Sacramentans can heave an immense sigh of relief and start rooting hard for the Indiana Pacers.

Seven-footers don't fear much. They deliver and absorb sharp elbows. They set jarring screens that freeze opponents and free up their smaller teammates. And they are thrilled beyond words that Shaquille O'Neal is talking trash on TNT these days instead of punishing with his massive size, strength and skill.

Sacramento's arena drama has gone on long enough. Seriously. "The Sopranos" came and went. Hall of Famer Charles Barkley started a new career and began gobbling up the Emmys. Heck, "War and Peace" proved to be a quicker read.

The cheering, the chanting, and soon enough, those damn cowbells. Wow. It's all coming back now.

An invigorated Kings-Warriors rivalry would further Northern California's reputation as a hotbed for professional basketball.

The left ankle – the good ankle – is the one bothering Stephen Curry this time. But that's a relief. Anything but the right ankle is a relief.

As the future of the Kings is analyzed, with financial, environmental and real estate issues subjected to intense, unprecedented scrutiny this week at NBA headquarters in New York, the man driving the process is the same commissioner whose own conclusions are likely to affect the outcome.

The screaming, the cheering, the chanting. That first standing ovation. That first Kings basket. That sellout crowd. All that stomping.

The Clippers keep crashing the party. They were here that first night and are here again tonight for what might be the final night of the Kings' 28-year stay in Sacramento.

You knew it had to be hiding around here somewhere. The resilience. The sophistication. The nasty streak. The toughness. The ability to attract some of the brightest minds and wealthiest investors in California, sketch out a massive downtown arena project, and then launch a forceful counterattack to preserve and protect the community's only major professional sports franchise.

This Sacramento-Seattle tango is a delicate dance, a West Coast feud, a basketball theme park and a Barnum & Bailey circus, all available for one late-season ticket package. This is one-stop shopping, with billion-dollar concepts thrown around like crayons in a kindergarten classroom.

The Maloofs are not people who sit patiently and quietly on the sidelines. The Kings' owners love fast food and fast cars, and right now, they are looking for the fastest exit out of Sacramento.

David Stern's trip to India this weekend had been planned for months. Coincidence and conspiracy theories aside – and yes, it certainly is tempting to give the award-winning series "Homeland" a Sacramento spin – the commissioner's overseas escapade is unrelated to Vivek Ranadive's involvement with the group attempting to buy the Kings and partner with the city on a downtown sports and entertainment complex.

League executives didn't quite expect this. No, they didn't. Instead of gaining some clarity in this two-city tango for one team – and that team would be your Kings – NBA Commissioner David Stern and several of his owners went off to dinner Wednesday with an even bigger mess on their hands.

The rallies in the park, the chants in the building, the gatherings outside the old arena. Then there is the campaign for corporate sponsorships, the inclusion of local owners, and the pledge for 2013-14 Kings season tickets, all motivated by the community's enduring passion for the region's only major professional sports franchise.

More than a decade has passed since these teams tangled in one of the most theatrical and controversial Western Conference finals (2002) in the NBA modern era.

Within the past five days – perhaps the most important five days in the history of the Kings – Sacramento thrust itself back into the game.

There was supposed to be a Ron Burkle sighting at The Bee on Monday, and then there wasn't. The mystery man canceled his appearance a few hours before the 2 p.m. tipoff, offered no reasons and remained true to his reputation within the arena of professional sports.

Toney Douglas was in Sacramento the day Tyreke Evans turned heads with his size and length, with his ballhandling and bruising strength, and mostly, with his slashing, scintillating drives to the basket.

We miss them, don't we? The Monarchs, I mean. While Mayor Kevin Johnson only recently bundled the disbanded WNBA franchise into his attempts to save the Kings and facilitate construction of a downtown sports and entertainment complex, his frequent mention of the Monarchs evokes mostly fond, pleasant memories.

What do you do with DeMarcus Cousins? Seriously. What do you do with DeMarcus Cousins?

The NBA commissioner – always the most influential player in these arena ordeals – turned Friday's visit with the Golden State Warriors into fright night for Kings fans.

Mitch Richmond is buying back into the Kings. Emotionally, for sure. Financially, he hopes. And we knew that.

About a year ago, Jim Les had moments when he wondered if his friends were right. Maybe he was crazy.

Patrick Patterson, the key acquisition in the trade that sent rookie Thomas Robinson to the Houston Rockets, arrives with an intriguing portfolio that includes a close relationship with DeMarcus Cousins.

So let's be honest here. The 2012 offseason was not kind to the Kings.

Kevin Johnson might not be able to pull this off. This arena ordeal is a real doozy. Forget about Seattle for the moment. There have been plenty of sleepless nights this past decade right here in Sacramento.

While Sacramento Mayor Kevin Johnson intensifies his pursuit of a new ownership group for the Kings, there is no one-stop shopping for NBA investors. They come in all shapes and sizes, with varying degrees of baggage and divergent personalities, and with significantly larger bank accounts than the average Dick and Jane.

There is something to be said for admitting a mistake and cutting your losses. Most of the Kings' front-office types regarded rookie Thomas Robinson as an undersized power forward with bad hands and poor basketball instincts.

Oh, so that's right. It's not impossible. Small-market cities and counties actually solve arena financing riddles, secure the future of their major professional sports franchises and consistently put a quality product on the court.

Relocation is a terrible word. It's the phrase that fans dread and cities fear, and that has stared down David Stern since he was named NBA commissioner in February of 1984.

If Isaiah Thomas decided to write a book, he could steal the title and borrow a few themes and spin his own "Tale of Two Cities."

These All-Star Weekends aren't what they used to be.

If the Ron Burkle-Mark Mastrov money men come up with a viable plan to purchase the Kings and construct a sports and entertainment complex – and Mayor Kevin Johnson insists they will – then the NBA board of governors will have one whale of a decision to make.

The final score won't change, and neither will the officiating calls or noncalls during the 49ers' final, futile possession in Sunday's Super Bowl.

Colin Kaepernick almost engineered the greatest comeback in Super Bowl history. Almost. This close. Five yards and a cloud of … fists, grabs, shoves? Five yards and a penalty that might have been called?

Vernon Davis is an art buff and a convert to 49ers historian. Names, dates, places. Positions, seasons, scores. Legends and legacies and memories.

Jim Harbaugh says Colin Kaepernick's a natural, so maybe his emergence is really that simple. A fairy tale set in fantasyland. A football story that becomes more dramatic by the week. An ascension so ridiculously swift and sure, so premature, that the 49ers' front office folks are even scratching their heads.

Chris Culliver apologized and apologized. He repeatedly recanted the ugly comments he uttered earlier in the week about players and the NFL and why gays need to keep their distance.

NEW ORLEANS – Alex Smith wants to discuss his demotion about as much as Ray Lewis wants to talk about deer and antlers and substances he swears he didn't ingest.

With the Kings closing out a wild week and escaping this increasingly fluid sale/arena/Sacramento/Seattle ordeal with a long trip, the time felt right for some impressions, insights and observations.

Yes, it makes for intense conversation around the water cooler, in the newspapers, on social media and on sports talk radio. Basketball is a game of passion and partisanship and more than an occasional cheap shot to the ribs.

Moving forward and thinking big – and doing it very quickly – Sacramento has to make a compelling case.

What on earth was Colin Kaepernick thinking? Seriously. What was he thinking? In the biggest game of his life – the biggest game played here since the Braves won the 1995 World Series – the 49ers quarterback directed the comeback that trumps all NFC Championship Game comebacks.

This is a guy who mentions bar fights. His bar fights. So, really, there is nothing Jim Harbaugh does or says that should surprise.