Dwight Howard trade brings sadness to city of Orlando

ORLANDO — Sadness.

That is all.

Just sadness.

Hollow, hopeless, heartbreaking sadness.

That is what it feels like to be an Orlando Magic fan right now.

Not anger. Not blame. Not even relief.

Not now.

Not when you are forced to say goodbye to Dwight Howard, the greatest player in your franchise’s history, as he takes his talents to Hollywood.

As one of my buddies from Ohio tweeted Thursday: “Dear Orlando, We Understand. Sincerely, Cleveland.”

How did “The Happiest Place on Earth” become the saddest sports city in America? Last week, Central Florida got five years of probation from the NCAA. This week, the Magic gets five years of irrelevancy from the NBA.

Sorry, but there is no way to feel good today if you’re a Magic fan. On Thursday, your team traded in its vintage Maserati and just pulled up into the driveway in a 1986 Chevette.

The Lakers get Howard, the most dominant, dynamic center in the league. The Magic gets some young players, some draft picks and a half-off coupon at Jiffy Lube.

Magic fans knew this day was coming and have had a chance to prepare themselves, but it doesn’t make it any less devastating. The finality of Howard’s departure gnaws at your insides and makes you wonder whether you will ever again fall in love with an athlete again.

Nearly a decade of love and loyalty and hopes and dreams has been flushed down the toilet. Howard, just as did Shaq before him, has stepped on Orlando’s heart on his way to L.A.

You know what this is like? It’s like being in love with the woman of your dreams, and she dumps you for some new good-looking guy with a lot of money and a lot of bling.

And, finally, after years and years, you get over the pain and depression and cautiously allow yourself to take the plunge with another woman who you believe is the new love of your life. And then you know what happens?

She dumps you too — for the SAME STINKING GUY!

Sad, jilted, lonely, cursed.

This is what Magic fans must feel like. Like their team is the new minor league affiliate of the Lakers.

This hurts even more than Shaq because Howard was supposed to be a different kind of superstar. He was the young man who preached “loyalty before anything” and said he wanted to be in Orlando forever and ever and lead the Magic to multiple championships. He was our Superman, the Man of Real — real values, real character, real principles.

“What hurts the most is Dwight isn’t who we thought he was,” says Dennis Salvagio, the famous Magic superfan whose alias is “The Fat Guy.” “We thought he was loyal and would stick by us until the end.”

The people here loved him unconditionally. They cheered him loudly and proudly. They built a new arena for him and even nicknamed it “The Dwighthouse.” They poured their hearts, souls and disposable income into him.

I still remember the time I told my daughter Jessica a story about Michael Jordan getting cut from his high school basketball team and going on to become the greatest basketball player of all time.

“Daddy,” Jessica corrected, “Dwight Howard is the greatest basketball player of all time.”

The fans started movements like “Keep Dwight in Blue and White” to persuade him to stay. They started websites like StayDwight.com. One local band even recorded a song — “Let’s Fight for Dwight” — and did a music video to go with it.

Well, the fight is over.

There is sadness.

That is all.

Just sadness.

mbianchi@tribune.com

Bianchi is a columnist for the Orlando Sentinel.