A group led by Oklahoma City businessman Clay Bennett bought the Seattle SuperSonics in October 2006. At the time, one of the new co-owners, billionaire Aubrey McClendon, told an Oklahoma newspaper that the group “didn’t buy the team to keep it in Seattle. We hoped to come here (to Oklahoma City).”

This did not please NBA commissioner David Stern, who had a fleeting thought of keeping the Sonics where they rightfully belonged. The league fined McClendon $250,000.

Tut, tut, Aubrey.

Bennett tried to assuage Stern with an email that said, in part:

You are just one of my favorite people on earth and I so cherish our relationship. … I would never breach your trust. Aubrey and I have NEVER discussed moving the Sonics to Oklahoma City, nor have I discussed it with ANY other members of our ownership group. I have been passionately committed to our process in Seattle.

Is Bennett a bad guy for lying to Stern? Is McClendon a bad guy for telling the truth? Was Stern nothing more than a nicely tailored myrmidon for Bennett and McClendon?

The answer is all and none of the above.

Rich people buy pro sports teams so they can sell them at a profit someday. They pay their commissioners millions of dollars to put a nice spin on things. These rules are not hard-and-fast, but they fairly apply to situations like the one Columbus fans face. Major League Soccer is joining the big leagues, and the Crew is the Sonics — or the Colts. There are a lot of examples, but I like the Colts for the grotesque realism of their tale.

As rumors of relocation roiled in the late winter of 1984, the Maryland State Senate passed a bill to allow Baltimore the right to seize the Colts franchise by using the power of eminent domain. The Maryland House was in the process of passing the same bill — but before the House could vote, Colts owner Robert Irsay struck a deal with Indianapolis, packed all the team’s gear in moving vans and dispatched them to Indy — with each van taking a different route so the Maryland State Police couldn’t possibly stop them all.

You’ve got to respect the ambition.

This brings up another facet of these hostage situations: No city is a victim because every city is a victim. The people who run Indianapolis care as much about the people of Baltimore as the people of Baltimore care about the people of Cleveland. It’s just business.

The big grift has landed in MLS with a beachhead in Columbus.

Crew owner Anthony Precourt does not care about Crew fans. Does the Hunt family, which built an incredible soccer legacy here and sold it for a profit? The Hunts and other MLS “investor-operators” will show their hands when when the Board of Governors votes on the move. They’ll approve. Why? Not every owner likes this relocation business, but they all want know that they can do it, too, if they so choose.

MLS commissioner Don Garber has to be embarrassed by the public-relations nightmare that is unfolding as this legally fraught con game is being perpetuated — but Garber will get over it, just as every other commissioner in every other American professional sports league has always gotten over it. Garber is right next to Precourt in this power move.

A few folks in Austin might feel a twinge of agita, but it’s nothing that can’t be cured with a soccer-specific seltzer.

This business with Columbus is as morally bereft as any civic thievery you might conjure, which is part of the point of it. The masters of the universe are at work on the cradle of American soccer — and if they can rob the cradle, they can rob anything. That is the message they want to send.

Hokey as it sounds, the #SaveTheCrew movement remains the only hope. It continues to shine its banana-yellow light on what is right, and make the roaches scurry. It’s a slim hope, but it is something. Beam on, Nordecke. Be Massive, my friends.

marace@dispatch.com

@MichaelArace1