I was raised in a more or less traditional Hispanic household in one of the Demilitarized Zones in Oak Cliff. Having grown up in "the Cliff", I learned a few of life's simple truths, like "After midnight, running isn't just for exercise," and "Some people won't take no for an answer . . . but they will take your wallet." Of course, one of the most important truths I learned was "NEVER argue with your father." It's not that my dad hit us or anything, but even if you win the argument, how smart do you feel sleeping in your car after he's locked you out of the house.
With this in mind, it absolutely surprised me when I decided to go verbally toe-to-toe with my dad on the arena deal. I don't even remember how the conversation started. There had been, like in most fights, events leading up to it. After the last Stars game I went to, I pick up a "Let's build it" sign for our yard. I proudly pushed it into the hard, cold ground in front of our house. And every morning that week, I would find it uprooted and thrown into the flowerbeds, looking none too pleased about it either. I finally planted the sign on my half of the lawn.
And it came to pass Saturday afternoon, my dad would bring up the arena issue to me. I imagine he was tired of pulling up my hapless little sign. He was mainly concerned that the citizens of Dallas would be paying for it and that the arena would bring nothing to the city (and in the case of the Mavericks, took things away). I reminded him that the taxes would only come from hotel and car rental taxes, not from the local taxpaying public. As far as bringing nothing, major corporation have moved into Dallas and have gotten all sort of tax breaks and whatnot that, in the long term, add up to significantly more than what's being put up for the arena. However, the one point I made then that I hadn't considered before was this: If we vote down the arena, Dallas becomes the butt of one of my favorite jokes. It used to be, whenever I went to one of the suburbs, I would carry on this one-sided dialogue.