I like to tell people that sports brought me to Seattle.

This is technically correct: My first trip to the city was to watch a college basketball game. This was back in 1987, and I was 12 years old.

The truth is that generosity is what got me here, though.

My family lived in Southern Oregon, and my father’s health had taken a significant turn for the worse. I loved sports, and a group of guys who’d gone to school with my Pop decided to do something exceptionally nice by flying me up to Seattle to watch a basketball game in the Kingdome. No, that’s not a misprint. There were basketball games in the Kingdome. Specifically, the NCAA Tournament would come every few years, and on the morning of March 22, 1987, I boarded an Alaska Airlines flight to Seattle so I could watch the UNLV Runnin’ Rebels rally from an 18-point deficit and beat the Iowa Hawkeyes in the West Regional final, earning a berth in the Final Four.

The changes can be messy. They are not always fair, and they engender passionate disagreements, and while this isn’t easy or comfortable, it is part of what makes the city feel so alive.

It is not an exaggeration to say that day changed my life. It was the first major sports event I attended, encouraging an interest that would eventually become a career in sports journalism. It shaped my understanding of what friendships can mean, and the difference they can make in this difficult and occasionally tragic world.

It also made Seattle into a beacon for me. A bright spot in what was a difficult time for me and my family. My father died two years later at the age of 38, my mom subsequently remarried, and I had a difficult relationship with my stepfather.

Seattle became something for me to shoot for, and while that basketball game wasn’t the only reason I decided to attend the University of Washington, it was a significant nudge in that direction.

Recently, I’ve found myself thinking about that trip for a couple of reasons. The first is that the NCAA Tournament is coming back to Seattle in March with six games played over two days at Climate Pledge Arena, which brings back some exceptionally fond memories.

The second is that the current political climate makes it fairly easy to lose sight of just how remarkable our city still is. I bristle when I hear conservative politicians use Seattle and other West Coast cities as a punchline. I cringe when I hear locals talk about their very valid concerns over the housing crisis and the impacts that is having upon public safety and economic growth.

I’m not trying to minimize the depth of the challenges that exist or dismiss the concerns and strong feelings they engender. I’ve spent too long in this city to unilaterally vouch for the wisdom of our local government no matter how well-intentioned the motives may be. What I do disagree with, what I passionately object to, is the belief that Seattle is dying. The truth is that I’ve been hearing that ever since I arrived in 1993. The movie Singles had been out for more than a year at that point, grunge was too mainstream to be considered cool, and Don James had resigned as the Huskies’ football coach. Seattle’s moment had passed, I was told repeatedly, and it was too bad I hadn’t been there when it was cool.

Thirty years later, Seattle is bigger in just about every way, and while I’m not foolish enough to insist that everything is better, I do find it comical that there’s a new crop of people shouting the same old refrain.

In fact, the single most consistent thing about this city is that there is always someone insisting that Seattle is headed downhill, when what they really mean is that it’s changing. That’s what cities do, though. They evolve in everything from housing policies to public transportation to which businesses drive economic development within the region. The changes can be messy. They are not always fair, and they engender passionate disagreements, and while this isn’t easy or comfortable, it is part of what makes the city feel so alive.

There is a vitality here. An excitement. An energy.

I believe I felt that the very first time I visited, though I certainly wouldn’t have been able to put it into words back then. I was something of a country bumpkin from a small timber town on the east side of the Cascades. The biggest sporting event I’d attended up to that point was an American Legion baseball game. I was struck by the size of the Kingdome first when I saw it from the freeway and later when I was inside, though I’ll admit to being a little perplexed by the stainless-steel urinals in the bathroom.

Thirteen years later, I was standing in Kerry Park on the south side of Queen Anne Hill watching as the Kingdome was imploded in what was one of the city’s messier changes. It also turned out to be one of the most important, clearing the way for two absolutely beautiful stadiums where I’ve spent too many days to count covering this city’s sports franchises. I’m old enough that I covered a team that no longer exists (the Sonics) for a newspaper that no longer publishes (the Seattle Post-Intelligencer), but I refuse to become cynical about this place or its people.

We’re trying. All of us. That effort, that desire, is part of what gives Seattle its vitality, and I’m going to be certain to remember that on March 21 when I walk into Climate Pledge Arena to watch the first round of the NCAA Tournament. I like to think that somewhere in that arena there’s going to be a 12-year-old boy who’s visiting Seattle for the first time and finding the same magic that I experienced back in 1987.