PHILADELPHIA — Whatever you think about the Xfinity Mobile Arena, I think we can all agree that it would be a lot cooler if it was the Xfinity Arenamobile. You know, like a Bookmobile, except for underperforming sports teams. Put that baby on wheels and send the Sixers and Flyers right on out of here. Maybe New Jersey can still find them a few tax breaks. Heck, we’ll give you a tax break to take them.

The one guarantee about a new stadium naming rights deal is that everybody is going to hate it. Back in 1967, legendary Daily News sports columnist Stan Hochman described the newly named Spectrum as “obscure in origin, harsh in sound, and incompatible with a sports arena.” But he also noted that arena president Hal Freeman had wanted to call it the Playdium, which sounds like something that comes in a yellow plastic can. Needless to say, Spectrum aged well.

These days, names barely age at all. The Spectrum eventually gave way to the CoreStates Center, which then became the First Union Center, and then the Wachovia Center, and then the Wells Fargo Center. Each of the transitions brought a new round of reflexive grumbles. Mostly, they served to diminish the significance of names themselves.

Some will argue that the Xfinity Mobile Arena is the perfect name for the modern era: devoid of sentiment, missing a vowel and likely to go out of business within a few years. There is some merit to the argument. The Spectrum was a name with gravitas. It sounded like a place where important things happened. The Xfinity Mobile Arena sounds like a kiosk that shares space with an Orange Julius.

But, then, the Spectrum had a legacy. It had the Broad Street Bullies. It had the early ’80s Sixers. The Wells Fargo Center has a handful of Finals losers and a game that was canceled because the playing surface was too wet.

The Spectrum was where Dr. J and Moses played. The Wells Fargo Center is where Joel Embiid and Paul George don’t. I mean, what did we want them to call it? Josh Harris’ House of Sadness?

The sad truth is that it is hard to get worked up about the name of a building that nobody wants to go to. The Flyers and Sixers were among the five worst teams in their leagues this season. New York and Boston are hosting NBA playoff games. Philly is hosting evangelical conferences. The sports complex used to be a place where you went to watch the Sixers lose in the second round of the postseason. Now, it’s where you watch Tim Tebow give a sermon.

Don’t get me wrong. I understand our sentimental attachment to names. As a new father, I can tell you two things:

Fact is, we are well past the point of bemoaning these naming rights deals. Sports are a business. Athletes are well-paid contractors. These buildings no longer are temples of the human spirit. They are vehicles for monetization.

One can argue that there is a finer line to walk between revenue generation and cultural significance. There are plenty of corporate sponsors who might have given us an arena name that scored higher for creativity and/or local relevance. Philadelphia is home to a variety of iconic brands. Tastykake. Dietz & Watson. Steak ‘Em-Up.

Initially, I was surprised that the new sponsor wasn’t one of the billboard lawyers on I-95. The problem with Jawn Morgan Arena is that it actually would have been located in Orlando. And while Real Philly Arena has a nice ring to it, the guy already blew his marketing budget.

My personal favorite would have been the Center Jason Kelce Center. The Taylor Swift concerts would have offered some impressive cross-promotional opportunities.

How about Groundhog Gus? What’s a more fitting sponsor for a lottery team than the actual Pennsylvania Lottery? It benefits older Pennsylvanians, and the Sixers have a roster full of them.

On second thought, maybe we should just call it the Xfinity Immobile Arena.

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