Severance Arena

sit down kids, story time

Before you enter Severance Arena, the new home of the Los Angeles Clippers, you’ll meet Chuck. He’s a pink headed condor that became the Clippers mascot after migrating from a creative agency on acid. Now you won’t get to meet the real Chuck. That guy’s gotta stretch before tipoff. Instead, you’ll meet a cartoon of Chuck on your hopefully charged phone via the Intuit Dome app *fuck* I mean via the Severance Arena app. The cartoon condor will guide you through notification, location, and motion tracking settings as you desperately attempt to locate your tickets. I was outside Severance Arena with friend of the newsletter Brockwell, violently tapping on Chuck’s beak for my ticket as Brockwell attempted to transfer it from his phone. You see, each individual must possess their own ticket on their own account on their own phone. It’s because a ticket is not simply a ticket here at Severance Arena. In order to enter the hallowed and storied grounds of your Los Angeles Clippers…Chuck will also need to scan your face.

I gave Chuck my face but it didn’t matter because the damn bird never found my ticket. So as Brockwell severed his way into the arena, hunched over and looking deeply into the eye of a massive Amazon Echo - I was instructed to visit the ticket office for a substitute wristband. I found myself amongst a wandering group of ticket refugees…many of them young children (because they don’t have phones), acquiring wristbands from two very patient employees in Clippers jumpsuits. Turns out, the arena will let you tap a wristband at any Echo machine where facial scans are required. I know. How understanding of them. As my motion-tracking jewelry was being applied, I asked one of the jumpsuits a very blunt question. Do you secretly hope the Clippers don’t make the playoffs? This face scanning operation (or lack thereof) will be a nightmare. She laughed politely and told me yes. But not because of all the TSA Pre-Check cosplay. Instead, because she’s a Lakers fan.

I was being voluntarily scanned, surveilled, and severed that night for very good reason. The Knicks were in town. It was the second leg of a back-to-back and the night before, starting point god Jalen Brunson sprained his ankle in an overtime loss to the Lakers. That meant I was gonna see some Cam Payne basketball and therefore needed a cold cocktail immediately. So once Brockwell and I scanned our respective wristbands and faces through another few checkpoints, we ventured to the bar just before shoot around.

I always try to lay on the charm with an arena barkeep. It’s a twenty buck cocktail so every drop counts. The difference between an airport Chili’s pour and a country club cascade can come down to just a friendly smile and an acute observation. Let’s just say I executed. Took Victor the barkeep by surprise, injecting an ounce of humanity into regularly an automated exchange. I forget exactly what I said but Victor did me dirty…and I mean this in the best way possible. All I had to do now was tap my wrist to another Echo 10-15 times and this triple gin and tonic was all mine. I’m not exactly sure why another tap for the drink was needed. Chuck stores your card in the app and the arena tracks your face each time you make a purchase. Look up and you’ll see the ceiling of a Terry Benedict Casino. Cameras everywhere. Maybe the tap was just for good measure. Or maybe it was part of the slow pavlovian training process installed and executed by Lumen *fuck* I mean the Los Angeles Clippers.

Once in the seats, I really got a look at all. Much has been made about Severance Arena’s pursuit of the ultimate fan experience. Before my visit last Friday night, all I knew was that the Clippers built bathrooms at every turn and a “wall” of steep stands behind the opposing team’s basket. I thought the endless bathrooms were a good idea yet one that was solved, at least for those who stand, a century ago with the much forgotten urine trough. The Wall, on the other hand, was about as pedestrian as I imagined it. In its heyday (the first week of the season), The Wall looked to be buzzing on TV. Almost too buzzing. Sort of like the cultish student section at the for-profit Grand Canyon University or a 1-Iota assembled crowd straight from a taping of The Voice. Paid Clippers fans, no doubt. But on Friday night, The Wall had plenty of holes in need of filling. Their impeccable chants were faintly heard and rarely followed by the unpaid Clippers fans dispersed around the rest of the arena.

A name I haven’t mentioned yet is Steve Ballmer. He’s the billionaire owner of the Clippers and mastermind behind Severance Arena. I haven’t mentioned him for a very good reason. Ballmer’s the former CEO of Microsoft. A powerful man. He could have The Pioneer wiped from the internet if he read this. I think he would, too. After all, Steve Ballmer seemingly hates good things. If you have read anything about this arena, you’ve most likely seen him. He’d like the world to know it’s his brainchild. And his passion behind Severance Arena is well intended. He just wants to keep fans in their seats, actually watching basketball. Like I said, the ultimate game time experience. No waiting in line for the bathroom or concessions. Ever. And Ballmer hopes to have this down to a science. So much so, that he’ll need to scan your face at every entrance possible. If you check your arena app, it’ll even show you just how many times you’ve left your seat and entered the concourse. As you can imagine, during the rush hour foot traffic of halftime, this plan backfired. We waited in a hallway for 10 minutes as each patron scanned their face or tapped their wrist. One by one. So actually in a dystopian reversal of fates, maybe Ballmer knew exactly how to keep everyone in their seats. By making it truly impossible to get anywhere.

While I was waiting in this hallway, I thought back to the overwhelmingly positive feedback I’d read about Severance Arena. Admittedly, these were not anecdotal stories. Instead, media luminaries who raved about this technological marvel of architecture from the mind behind Windows Vista. I’m sure Mr. Ballmer has surely impressed his personal guests with planned demonstrations, efficiency statistics, and courtside seats. But for true salt of the earth ball knowers like myself, slumming it out in the Patron Tequila Lounge, the Intuit Dome was no marvel. Instead, a data-harboring maze as expensive and reliable as its star attraction, Kawhi Leonard.

With a couple of minutes left in the fourth, the arena app alerted me of my decreased serotonin levels. The Knicks were losing. Just kidding. Well, the Knicks did lose but the app did not alert me of any chemical imbalance (but I’m sure it collected and sold these metrics to Salesforce). Shortly after, upon leaving Severance Arena, my outie was finally awakened on a half-mile walk through Inglewood to the Uber pickup station. It was during this leisurely stroll that Brockwell reminded me he never gave Chuck his credit card number. Never scanned his face for food as well. I was the sucker who did, apparently…But did I? I couldn’t remember. I was severed. Then I got this email the next day.

NOW THAT’S CLIPPERS BASKETBALL. Suck it Ballmer.

Our inadvertent shop lift is the result of what’s easily forgotten in the mad dash to out-innovate. What has always worked and what about us makes it work? Hey…that’s what this newsletter’s all about. A newsletter that is now in peril after informing Steve Ballmer to suck it. But my critique is only fair. Severance Arena, or as its known to those not yet severed, The Intuit Dome, is far from intuitive and I’d argue not even a dome. It’s an arena attempting to solve human problems with technology devoid of human nature. Seemingly, this has always been a struggle for Steve Ballmer - might I remind you of the Zune? But who am I to judge? I write this from the grandstands (well…the Patron Tequila Lounge…let’s not get ahead of ourselves) while he spent 2 billion dollars reinventing the urine trough. I do respect that. Disruption and progress truly are two sides of the same coin. But for every Steve Jobs, there’s a Steve Ballmer. And for every——Well actually I don’t know if anything really does compare to Chuck the Condor.

After finally escaping the one lane residential traffic of Inglewood, we landed at The Daily Pint, a pool bar on Pico. You wouldn’t believe it, but around 1 AM, I ran into Victor The Barkeep. I swear to you this happened. Victor made sure to let me know he’s also a Lakers fan. Unimportant but funny. And then gave me his contact for the next time I’m severed. He’ll hook me up with drinks on the cheap. I asked how that’d be possible with all the Amazon Echos and Terry Benedict cameras watching. Victor said it’d be easy. He then relayed a plan to me so sophisticated, so covert - the advanced classified technology of Severance Arena and the all seeing eye of Steve Ballmer would never know what’s coming.

“pay me in cash”