Derek Fisher, agent of Satan? ...or, how Utah County District 65 showed that the Jazz can save the universe

Ed’s note: I started this post before Thursday's game, but was unable to publish it because I had to stay up late reporting on this story for a media outlet that will remain nameless. The LINKS ARE NOT OPTIONAL. Be patient, it’s going somewhere …and yes, I was on a natural high when I wrote it.

Okay, I’ve figured it out. I had the first part down, but had not quite put together the second piece of the puzzle until now. I have Don Larsen of Utah County District 65 to thank for my revelations.

Mr. Larsen has shown me the light—not only is Satan behind the current wave of illegal immigration, he is also responsible for Jerry Sloan’s preference for Derek Fisher and Matt Harpring. It’s the only rational explanation.

Derek Fisher is a succubus robot sent by Satan-worshiping, Ralph Nader-brainwashed cylons to destroy the Utah Jazz from the inside. ..Harpring is one of their sleeper agents, a ticking time bomb just waiting to miss a lay-up or commit an offensive foul when the game is on the line. It was so obvious and yet I couldn’t see it clearly, until now…

These two humanoid machines were sent by the cylons from the not-so distant future in an effort to gain control of humanity’s new home, planet Gliese. The planet’s light takes 20 years to arrive in earth’s telescopes. Astronomers have no idea what is currently taking place on the surface of Gliese. But, Mr. Larsen’s ideas illustrate the possibility earth colonies have already been settled, but are currently involved in a bloody war for control with Satan-worshipping cylon immigrants.

Mr. Larsen says Starbucks and Stock-to-Malone car dealerships on Gliese are at risk from a horde of cylon machines spawned by colonists in an effort to avoid immigrant labor. How the flesh-covered machines found the writings of Ralph Nader, no one knows. However, it might have started with Thursday’s speech at Utah Valley State College!

The cylons became voracious in their desire to destroy freedom and the intergalactic corporations which bring the world electrifying ad slogans and naming rights agreements that empower citizens in the new Happy Valley at the far end of the universe. However, due to the overwhelming will power of a lingering Midwestern work ethic, the machines are losing.

The machines have only one hope in their dastardly plot to bring universal healthcare and fluoridated water to the galaxy: Time Travel. After studying human history, the cylons identified one man and one moment representing the bastion of traditional, old-school conservative thought. In a sea of decadence, only this stalwart remains true to form. That man is Jerry Sloan. That moment is the 2007 NBA playoffs.

In order for the cylons to win, Jerry Sloan and the Utah Jazz must be stopped. They cannot win the 2007 NBA championship. You see…when the Jazz combined the energy and athleticism of Andrei Kirilenko, Ronnie Brewer, and Paul Millsap into a disciplined defense, yet flexible fun-to-watch offense their surprising championship inspired not only the sports world, but the WTO, the World Bank, and Rupert Murdoch himself. World culture stood on its head. . .People all over the globe began believing anything was possible. Old school and new school can compliment each other! People finally said to themselves.

Liberals and conservatives don’t have to fight. We can work together for the good of each other. It was a collective epiphany leading to peace, prosperity, and Starbucks coffee that actually tastes good. Humanity became stronger and more balanced than anyone every thought possible…and, it all had to do with a stroke of luck where the traditionalist Utah Jazz were provided with the kind of new age athletes the fanzz had always dreamed about.

Traveling back in time, the cylons identified all of Sloan’s weak points—puritan concepts of hard work, experience, and determination. Those things are easily faked they decided. All a player has to do is stay extra hours in the gym building muscle mass which is actually not very useful in the finesse-filled game of hoops. However, Sloan misinterprets such physicality as a sign of hard work. To display phony determination the machines were directed to dive headfirst toward the ball with limbs flailing whenever possible.

During a Rocky Mountain Revue game, the cylons discovered a brief flaw in their plan… The Rafael Araujo humanoid dove for a ball while he was at the scores table with his warm-up jacket still on. The basket-bots needed a little tinkering, they decided.

The new directive became: only throw yourself on the floor after being checked into the game, otherwise flail as much as possible.

The Harp-bot skin job was especially pleasing to Sloan. Eventually the coach was unable to resist the siren call of hustling, but ineffective machines.

David Stern and NBA officials were confused, but reticent. It did seem odd to play a football tight end in a basketball game. Starting an aging point-guard at the two spot was equally weird, but who was going to complain? The opposing coaches?

The cylons had thought of everything…except one thing. What, you ask? Don Larsen, that’s what.

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On this day, we all cry with Kirilenko, Part IV

He looks lost, barely a shell of what once was. There are glimpses of the man at full strength, but most of the time when you look into his eyes the message is clear: the best days are behind him.

That’s right, I’m talking about Jerry Sloan.

Facial expressions indicating deep contemplative thought were never his forte, it is true. However, these days when you look at the Jazz bench there is an old man staring off into space. A grandpa figure who looks like he’d rather be watching the game at home in a Lazboy, chuckling at the “Road Redwood” furniture ads and taking the occasional pipe break on the porch of his Evansville farmhouse.[1]

I’m not saying this to be mean, really I’m not. It just looks like it is finally time for Sloan to call it a day.

Listen, we’ve all tried to come up with some pretty fantastical explanations for his choice of playing Harpring over Kirilenko, Fisher over Brewer, Collins over the ball boy…but Occam’s razor must apply here: he is simply not paying attention.

Sloan’s brain is working at about 40 percent capacity, due to equal parts obstinacy and exhaustion. Since the 12-1 start, Sloan’s appetite for development has become progressively smaller. You can tell from the circles under his eyes that staying awake is no longer easy.

I know what happens to me when I’m hungry and tired, key premises of daily life escape me. The need for sleep and a full stomach cloud my vision. I’m awake but I don’t trust my own judgment. I’m a stranger on a distant beach capable of shooting an Arab…or, in this case, playing Derek Fisher at shooting guard.

As fellow humans we ought to cut him a little slack, but we won’t because he’s a public figure. We’re Americans, so we’ll rip him to pieces and pee on the remains.

It is clear Sloan is telling the truth, when he says, “I’m not a mood coach, I’m not equipped to deal with that.” We should give him credit for admitting as much, but the modern NBA coach needs to be capable of handling such complicated detail-oriented tasks as “motivation.”

Sloan should take a few mouthfuls of the sour liquid he insists his players swallow, I think its called “responsibility.” Today, basketball is a billionaire enterprise and coaching includes psychological, emotional, and maybe even new age non-denominational spiritual preparation.[2]

You can call Dr. Phil a fraud (I do all the time) but he has struck a chord with the way many people feel, and that is lonely. In America these days, people are consumed by a dread that there is nowhere to turn. As such, they respond better to touchy feely, than they do to fix-it-yourself-you-maggot drill sergeant impersonators.

In the Tribune, Sloan admitted he, “probably hasn’t gotten [Kirilenko] into a position where he’s as comfortable as he would like to be.” Sloan also admits, shamelessly, he has had only minimal communication with Andrei since he complained in mid-season that he didn’t understand his role.

Masha Kirilenko suggested part of the problem might be her husband’s less-than-complete command of the English language. An interesting prospect, indeed.[3] Andrei’s wife thinks an interpreter might solve some of the communication issues.

Unfortunately, Masha, you are assuming good faith on the part of Sloan. No matter what language Andrei uses, the lines of communication are not open. When asked why he won’t design a system catered to AK’s talents, Sloan has reacted like his 10-year-old child just asked why the neighbors dogs are “stuck together.”

I don’t have time for any of that rigamarole! Figure it out yourself, son. My way, or the highway. You don’t like it? Find yourself another place to cry. These shoulders weren’t made for tear drying… Bruising, Andrei. These shoulders were made for bruising.

A player’s input is not welcome in Sloan’s coaching world. Authority must be total at all times. Questions are the equivalent of challenging the judgment of the great John Deere himself.

Jerry, you want to know what you gotta love, or leave? — Modernity, baby. If you shun the world, it shuns you back. The old must make way for the new. It’s simply the law of give and take. In Jerry speak, “that’s just the way it goes.”

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[1] A fantasy soon to be a reality?

[2] Think Phil Jackson.

[3] Crazy enough, my niece is in the same pre-school as Fyodor, Andrei’s son. Fyodor barely speaks English. The poor teacher has to spend half of the class time making hand gestures to explain to this nine-foot tall six-year-old what is going on. The Kirilenko family’s commitment to American assimilation is less than 100 percent, and as you know. .. in America everything must be super-sized 110 percent!

On this day, we all cry with Kirilenko, Part III

After breaking down in tears yesterday, Andrei Kirilenko’s career may take a drastic turn for the worse. Andrei has been degraded a lot this year by his own organization. I would cry too.

The Jazz’s best defender and most unique talent has seen his minutes drastically reduced this season. Why? Because his play has been that bad? No. Not really. The answer is simple: Sloan is trying to recreate the era of Stockton and Malone wholesale. Through Williams and Boozer, the Frankenstein’s monster has taken on a remarkably disturbing life.

During Boozergate, Sloan decided his team would again pound the ball inside to a slower, shorter, even more boring, but equally self-centered version of the Mailman. Meanwhile AK is told to stand on the perimeter and take jump shots, something that’s never been his strength.

Although they have been teammates for three years, this season is the first time Boozer and AK have both been healthy in the same season.[1] In 2004, Sloan already had a brilliant, modern power forward in Kirilenko. However, once given the opportunity, Sloan chose a low post, Boozer-centered team over an AK-led free flowing Princeton offense squad.

Last season, when Williams was benched for long stretches in favor of two journeymen now on the NBA’s unemployment rolls, Sloan was crafting a new toy—Stockton version II. Deron wasn’t quite sure he wanted to be “Stock 2.0.” Occasionally, he wanted to look for his own shot. Tisk. Tisk. Sloan said from the sidelines.

Sloan has been given a lot of praise for making Williams into a disciplined player. Some of this may be true, but an equal part of Deron’s rookie campaign was Sloan demanding that he cram himself into a pair of Stockton’s proverbial short shorts.

Due to Boozer’s many injuries and Williams’ initial reluctance, the actualization of the Stockton-to-Malone sequel was postponed until this year. But last November it all came together for Sloan. Andrei Kirilenko found himself the odd man out.

When Andrei played with Stockton and Malone, he was a bit player. This role is precisely where he has returned (If you look at Andrei’s statistics this season, they are almost identical to the years where he was playing with the twosome enshrined on the corner of 300 West and 100 South).

Kirilenko’s shooting woes have received a lot of press this season, but his current field goal percentage is better than it was last year and two of his previous years—including his best season overall, the 2003-04 campaign.[2] AK-47 is a once in a lifetime defensive talent. Not since Russell, or Olajawon’s 1994 campaign, has any defensive player had such a dynamic impact on a game. Pippen was close, but I’ll still take the 2003-2004 version of Andrei over anyone other than Russell. Provided with the right situation on the court, there is no reason why he is not capable of that same level of play.

Andrei saved the Jazz franchise from complete embarrassment once the two cornerstones moved on. However, today Sloan has decreased Kirilenko's minutes, touches, and really made no effort to move toward arranging the team around AK’s unique talents. All things considered, AK hasn’t really caused much of a fuss about dropping completely off Sloan’s radar. In this super-star celebrity centered world, he has been a very good sport. Kirilenko hasn’t fought back, or attacked Sloan. He hasn't even asked for more shots. In January, he simply requested that Sloan involve him more in the game.

Coach, um, the season is half way over and you obviously aren’t running any plays for me, or even letting me touch the ball. I’m the second best passer on the team and you never let me handle the rock. ..my role has changed, could you please explain what it is that I am supposed to do in this system?

Really, this is all Andrei asked.

Andrei should watch his words, the owner stated. The local media concurred. But, how could Kirilenko have handled it any more professionally? Further, why doesn’t Andrei understand his role? — because Sloan does not understand Andrei’s role. He has given it no attention whatsoever. Instead, he has shifted back to the old ways doing of things during the Jazz heydays of the late-1990s.

When Stock and the Mailman retired, Sloan was a divorcee on the rebound. He was willing to entertain AK’s hijinks when they were his only option. He dated AK, but he’s marrying Williams and Boozer. Now that Sloan’s got the babe he wants, the Coach does not return AK’s phone calls. Sloan would like to move on, and forget the AK-47 affair ever occurred.

When Stock and Malone were around, there was no Andrei-the-undeniable-havoc reeker to incorporate into his rigid system. In Sloan's preferred system, big men are given the ball in the post, and tough-minded guards set screens for cutters who take jumps shots when lay-ups aren't available. In this old-school offense, there was no role for a gangly slashing, passing, shot-blocking forward.

The conventional system is the situation Sloan knows best and will always choose when given an option. The mohawk, the letting your man go past you on purpose so you can block his shot from behind, the wild drives into the lane for an even wilder dish off…all that stuff made Sloan a bit nervous. Now it’s back to the tried-and-true pick and roll.

Andrei Kirilenko is as earnest a figure as you will find in pro sports. He feels confused, betrayed, and more than anything, hurt. From his perspective, the Jazz signed him to a max deal. It is fair to assume a team would only sign someone to big money, if they are committed to developing and utilizing their talents. The fact that Kirilenko was dealing with a small market team more hesitant than most to open their wallet, probably reinforced the commitment Andrei felt he had.

This season should have been AK’s coming out party. As with the Oscars or the Emmies, talent usually must wait a few years before getting proper recognition. The Defensive Player of the Year award that he should have won in 03-04? That award was supposed to be his this year. It was Andrei’s turn. The first NBA player to put up a 5-5 stat line in the post-season? That should have been his as well. He has every right to be upset.

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[1] In 2004-05, Andrei was injured for the first half of the season, Boozer was injured for the second half. Last season, Boozer was injured for two-thirds of the season and once he did come back his minutes were severely limited due to the recovery process.

[2] Meanwhile Fisher, an actual perimeter player, is shooting 39 percent, yet he receives no public scoldings from Sloan as Andrei has endured the entire year. Fisher hasn’t been getting the job done all season, but you get the feeling if Sloan could make cylon clones out of he and Harpring they would never be taken out of the game.

On this day, we all cry with Kirilenko, Part II

If any sophisticated Jazz fan were to plan a shortlist of how Sloan was going to throw away the series against the Rockets[i], it would contain three basic components: 1) Play Harpring over Andrei Kirilenko 2) Play Fisher over Ronnie Brewer and Giricek 3) Rely on Boozer far too much. Basically, the same things that botched the last 20 games of the season.

Instead of pointing this out, the SLC sports media wrote columns stating the Jazz simply couldn’t score enough points in Game One. Pretty sophisticated analysis, I’d have to say. The Jazz didn’t score enough points to win…wow, will someone please hire me to write sports journalism full time?! I wouldn’t even have to watch the games, much less write the columns. It would be entirely possible to farm the work out to some Indian tech center.

Game One was a low-scoring affair decided by defense, as are most playoff games. You don’t need a lot of points. In a defense-controlled game, how are you going to make stops when your primary line up consists of these five players? -- Williams, Fisher, Harpring, Boozer, Okur.

Among those five, there is only one competent defender, that being Deron. And, as much as I love the man-in-desperate-need-of-a-good-nickname[ii] , he is only adequate. There are only three good defenders on the entire roster: AK, Millsap, and Brewer—in that order. Giricek’s bizarre Croatian folk dancing can distract his man occasionally as well.

Let’s unpack this a little further. Millsap is the eighth, or ninth rotation man on the roster. His primary function has been to back up Boozer and spend a little time at small forward or center. Sloan only uses Brewer when the Alzheimer kicks in and forgets that he knows about his secret. (Maybe, next year Jerry will lose it completely and Brewer will actually start.) Even though Andrei Kirilenko has literally been the sole consistent defensive presence on a team that won 51 games, he gets no credit.

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[i] If I hadn’t moved, experienced a major work schedule change, and had no internet for half of the previous week you have to believe I would have made this post.

[ii] This column is coming soon.

On this day, we all cry with Kirilenko, Part I

In evaluating a basketball player’s effectiveness, there is one key element sports journalists get wrong more than anything else. A cultural obsession with statistics makes analysts lose sight of what’s most important. All they have to do is answer this question: How does the team play when player X is on the court?

Do they tend to stay focused? Do they make silly mistakes? Or, even more simply, does their team score more points than the opposing team when player X is on the court? When Andrei Kirilenko is on the court for the Jazz, the answers are: Yes. No. Yes.

The Jazz’s mysterious 8-12 limp to the finish coincided with Sloan’s mid-March preference to finish games with Harpring at the expense of AK. After the midway point of the third quarter, Andrei would disappear never to be seen again.[i] The result? A team previously known for composure down the stretch was instantly transformed into a team that collapsed in the fourth quarter. Coincidence? Hardly.[ii]

When I first heard of the HarpringSucks blog, my thoughts were probably pretty similar to most Jazz fans. “Wait, Matt’s okay. What are they talking about?” I never really had a lot of affection for Harpring, but I thought of him as a good sixth man who plays hard, scores in bunches, and gives the team some toughness that offsets his complete inability to stay in front of his man on defense.

Earlier this year, some Scottish filmmakers released a documentary about French soccer legend Zinedine Zidane where 17 cameras track him for an entire match against Villa Real. It’s amazing what you notice once you are trained in on Zidane, and Zidane alone. The ball appears to be simply an extended appendage of his body. His skill is like nothing the world’s most popular sport has ever seen. Nobody takes the ball from Zidane, unless Zidane is ready to give up the ball. Nobody.

Harpring is the exact opposite. I dare you to play the role of the Scottish filmmaker and focus on Matt for an entire game. What you will see is a turnover machine. He can’t pass the ball. I mean at all. When was the last time Harpring threw a pass where you said, “Wow, I can’t believe he saw that.” Whereas, with AK almost every game he throws at least one pass where you say to yourself, “I can’t believe he saw, much less threw, that pass.” The only passes Harpring makes that inspire awe are those that go directly into the hands of the other team.

Broadcasters love to mention the media guide garbage about Harpring’s family background in football. “How tough is Matt Harpring? I mean he goes about two-thirty, but that doesn’t even tell ya…Wow…I mean, he and Fish are solid.” Bolerjack will repeat some variation of this at least three times a game.

Not once, have I heard anyone make the most obvious comparison available—Harpring is a perpetual fumbler. The ball squirts out of his hands more than any one not-named Greg Ostertag. Except, Sloan rarely had Ostertag on the court when the game was on the line. Not the case with Matt.

Harpring also routinely has many turnovers that will never appear in the stat sheet. The guy commits at least two to three stupid completely unnecessary fouls each game. Most of these occur, but are not limited to, the offensive end. Harpring is like one of the metal centurion cylons out of Battlestar Gallatica, except instead of a complicated base ship to give him orders, he has tractor-loving puritan Sloan.

The Matt Harpring cylon is programmed to run specific routes on the court. If someone gets in its way, it does not abort the mission, but continues with the route. Toughness. TOUGHNESS will prevail over all! This is the only form of analysis provided to the Harp-bot.

Inevitably at some point in every game, Harpring will be trying to post up, screen, or move through the lane and he will thrust his hip or shoulder into an opposing player causing them to fly to the hardwood. Guess what? There aren’t first-downs in this game, you can’t do that. The ref immediately blows his whistle. Harpring will then turn, making a face of complete incredulity like an eight-year-old who was told he could not ride the roller coaster because he didn’t meet the 45 inch height requirement. “Sorry son, I just can’t let you out there. This is for your own good.” If Sloan were the brilliant coach every one treats him to be, this is precisely what he’d say to Harpring.

Instead, he is Jerry’s favorite student. "Little Jerry," they call him. How cute. How appropriate. How disgusting. I will now hang myself from the kitsch Energy Solutions signage. It’s Electrifying!

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[i] On April 7, Andrei was injured and missed all but the final two games of the regular season. However, at that point Sloan had already made his preference for Harpring clearly known.

[ii] Many people will point out that AK was injured midway through the 12-1. However, AK’s minutes were not redistributed primarily to Harpring, but Millsap. Paul's presence also results in favorable answers to the key effectiveness questions.

WANTED: GONZO SPORTS WRITER FOR FILL-IN HELP...will train...wait, no, won't train

Four spelling errors, three jumbled paragraphs, two misused quotes and a partridge-in-a-pear tree…so, my idea of having a relative fill in while my internet was disconnected over the weekend didn't work out so well.

The ideal candidate will have the following skills, or mindset:

• The ability to explain why Craig Bolerjack is the anti-Christ.

• An understanding of rudimentary basketball mechanics, i.e. Dee Brown is not a NBA shooting guard—nor does the fact Matt Harpring “goes about 230” have anything to do with being a “basketball player.”

• A sincere appreciation of the semantic power of the word “fragile,” e.g. when applied to the Jazz it represents the balance Sloan teeters between functionality and complete overwhelming Alzheimer.

• An agreement that Kevin O'Connor bringing Derek Fisher to the Jazz was a mistake on par with trading Dell Curry.

• A compulsive need to develop a cartoon featuring Jerry Sloan and Matt Harping as “Tractor Man” and “Plow Boy” a la Captain Planet; the pair circle the globe to re-educate villainous young basketball players who dare to dunk the ball, move laterally on the perimeter, and only fall on the court when actually necessary.
  

Experience:

Must have numerous published clips, preferably long-form or literary journalism … or, the desire to write scattered surreal rants on sports or western cultural topics worthless to most, if not all, long form and literary journals.

Education:

• An advanced degree in journalism they sort of regret getting…and maybe even another graduate degree they also aren't sure was the right move.

• Alternately, enough home schooling to know John Hollinger is paid way too much, Steve Luhm is the Armstrong Williams of the local sports media, and the "Brad Rock--the 'Rock Monster' ” ad campaign was previously the most consistent unintentional comedy moment of any Jazz broadcast, but may soon be replaced by the new “It’s Electrifying!” playoff television spot.[1]

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  [1] Larry Miller is wearing earmuff headphones while whistling the song “Hustle” out of tune for what seems like five minutes. He is swaying back and forth in front of a white background as if he was mentally challenged—which he would have to be keep Sloan gainfully employed for going on two decades.

Adrian Dantley retirement ceremony play-by-play

Two of the biggest reasons I remain a Jazz addict have little to do with their performance on the court. First, the organization may now have nearly a billion dollars in assets, but there are still many provincial small town remnants to its operation that provide me with endless ironic joy.

The second reason? Despite being so very predictable, there are still a great many mysteries surrounding the organization – for instance, the size of Larry Miller’s left elbow (also see: Sloan’s Deep Dark Secret, post #1).

In this vein, I bring you a play-by-play of Adrian Dantley’s “Jersey Retirement Ceremony"...

In middle of the second quarter we are given an interview with Larry Miller where he says, “yeah, I was a little more hesitant than I should have been to get this done.” This qualifies as the largest understatement by a celebrity since Robert Mcnamara stated in The Fog of War documentary that, “using Agent Orange was maybe a bad idea.” A little hesitant, Larry? Try unbelievably so…can’t imagine why Sloan gets away with being “hesitant” to play Brewer.

Standing at half court, Hot Rod commands the attention of the crowd to introduce honorary guests, except the list he has been given does not match the order of the line. The mix up starts when John Stockton is announced as “Ron Bonne,” and then half of “AD’s ex-teammates” are introduced as if they were role playing at a swingers party, forcing them to stutter step backwards not knowing quite how to react. They then shake their heads while slapping hands with Dantley on the most important night of his life.

Then, for about five minutes AD’s high school coach lays on the praise. With five or six cameras in his face, it becomes quite apparent AD has a strange lip-piercing twitch which is almost painful to look at for too long. Clearly, it is the sign of a very anxious individual, and may be even OCD. An incredibly socially awkward habit that explains a lot. When you look at Dantley, all of a sudden you get the feeling that, to him, this is a job interview and the boss has 40,000 eyes.

As the next five speakers are handed the microphone, it becomes clear only Frank Layden and the high school coach actually came with a plan for what they were going to say and rehearsed it ahead of time. Sam Battistone, Larry Miller, and John Stockton figure they can just wing it. Stockton practically says “thanks AD” and pitches the microphone to Miller while running for cover back into the tunnel, where he peaks out from behind the rafters to observe the rest of the ceremony safely. Ok, that’s not true, but his speech lasted about ten seconds and none of it was memorable—a vintage Stockton public appearance.

Finally, AD is introduced by Hots as the “only Jazz player to average 29 points a game over his seven seasons with the Jazz—still a record.” Uh, yeah, I bet it is a record. Holy H-E-double-hockey-sticks! Boozer averages 20 or so now, and it seem like he scores 25 every game to offset the occasional off night…Dantley’s record will stand until Premier Stern institutes the upcoming rule where players can only play perimeter defense while standing on their heads.

Wearing a pin-striped suit that looks like it costs as much as the entire Mr. Mac organization, AD takes the microphone.[i] He puts up his hand up as if he is about to speak but is over-whelmed by applause. Dantley then does that weird lip-piercing thing, but now it’s a little clearer why he was doing it in the first place.

AD is on the verge of tears. He can barely hold it back. This wasn’t going to happen, he didn’t believe the day would ever come. Twenty one years. There was no reason to believe it would come, but here he is actually living the moment. Nightmares, dreams they all messed together in his mind around this one moment. He simply does not and cannot believe this is real.

After about three botched attempts to speak, he gathers himself and says, “good things happen to those who wait.” One of the most poignant and touching moments in sports I’ve seen in a long time. However, it was not my favorite of the night.

After Dantley graciously says a paragraph or two about all the other names hanging in the rafters[ii], we are not given a quasi-motivational speech about how to live your life through the lenses of an athlete (as we were with Malone’s JRC). Instead, AD gives us this, “Today, at our luncheon, I told Larry that with Phil Johnson and Sloan starting to get older…I expect a phone call. He better bring me in for the interview of the job with the Utah Jazz.”

While scratching his chin, Larry smiles with a face that says, “Don’t push your luck.” However, the second head growing out of his left elbow made a different expression which leads me to believe AD’s request is no longer far fetched.

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[i] For a bonus…who remembers what the Mailman wore to his “jersey retirement ceremony"?

[ii] Including Hornacek and Maravich, whom he never played with, as well as Malone who was the main reason he was told to pack his bags in the first place (who was also conspicuously absent from the arena).

The sky is too falling

Salt Lake Tribune writer Gordon Monson says the sky is not falling. He is simply wrong. I know so because Foxey Loxey told me. The speech was hurried and he was kind of out of breath. It took me awhile to understand what he was saying between the huffing gasps, but all-in-all Loxey presented detailed evidence the sky is indeed coming down on our heads.

Foxey toured the local radio talk show circuit, his picture was in the paper standing in front of a powerpoint presentation with the title “findings”, and he spoke at the UN while holding a vile of Matt Harpring’s urine, for Christ sake! How could he possibly be wrong? This morning I went to Smith's superstore and bought the biggest tub of peanut butter I could find and nine rolls of tape with an ape on the label (…indicating it was indeed strong like an ape and not silly, or weak, like a monkey, i.e. the competitors tape). Then down to Fanzz where I picked up nineteen Kris Humphries jersey’s which I have fixed into a makeshift quilt which could also double as a land sail for a skateboard.

I also purchased the latest copy of WWE’s Investor's Business Explosion, you know so just in case the sky isn’t falling I’ll come out of the whole affair better off…you never know, during half time tonight Sloan might slip and break his hip on a puddle of Larry Miller’s tears.

The breakup you can't make

Context: Jazz lose by 30 points to a mediocre but desperate team. The game is out of control by the 9 minute mark. The team has lost 10 out of their last 15 games.

Have you ever dated a girl that’s smart but also a bit wild and crazy? Things are hot, heavy, and even intimate at first. An incredibly exciting experience overall, you just can’t get enough. But sooner or later, the “crazy” part catches up. There is that distinct moment—it could be when she quits her job over something minimal, or sleeps with another guy because she was “drunk and didn’t know what she was doing”— and from that point on you know it's over but can’t leave because she’s upset and vulnerable and you still care. You can see the exit, but aren’t quite sure how to take it graciously.

This is how I feel about the remaining five games of the 2007 Jazz season and the upcoming playoffs. Whether I like it or not, I’m tied to this team and can’t shop around for a better organization that would fulfill my needs...of living vicariously through televised athletics.

The next three weeks are going to be painful, but unavoidable. How bad are things going to get? That's about the only question worth debating at this point.

Retire Sloan Mission Statement

In lieu of the last six Utah Jazz games, we at Benoitfor3 have felt compelled to redesign, shift gears, and change names. This post and the previous are far more serious than we would like, but there is an immediate need to help nudge a faithful old stead down to rest.

It is important to acknowledge what Sloan has done for the Utah Jazz organization. The team won more games in the 1990s than any other organization in the NBA, including the Chicago Bulls and San Antonio Spurs. Upon reflection, we feel that some day this feat will gain the appreciation it deserves. Sloan’s amazingly long tenure has been invaluable to the franchise. Consistency is a word that will forever be associated with the Jerry Sloan system of old school basketball which Karl Malone and John Stockton benefited from on their way to Hall of Fame and record-breaking careers.

Not since Vince Lombardi or Tom Landry has a coach been so in tune with the community he represents. Sloan's hard nose, no nonsense demeanor wouldn’t have worked for as long anywhere other than Salt Lake. However, it is time for a change.[1] The current Utah Jazz team is the most talented squad the organization has ever assembled, which heightens the urgency for new direction. Sloan is misusing, or abusing, many of the players potential.[2]

Sloan's accomplishments are many, but his failures are also plentiful. Unfortunately, now it is clear the negatives now outweigh any positives. There is another side to the coach's consistency and that’s his predictability—including an inability to adapt dynamically to change as it occurs on the court. Sloan’s greatest strength is also his greatest weakness.

When Sloan’s preconceived notions go awry he does not alter his plans. Rather he digs his feet into the dirt and plows against the unforgiving soil, believing his strength of will can overcome any obstacle. Sloan’s substitution patterns have always reflected his obstinacy, but recently they have gotten worse. When something is clearly not working on the court—say Derek Fisher guarding a player twice his size, CJ Miles’ failure to recognize the shape of a basketball hoop, Harping’s inability to defend anyone faster than Dick Bavetta—Sloan does not try alternate options, he sticks with said option until the game has gotten out of hand and the final buzzer has sounded.

Sloan is often lionized for representing traditional values in American sports. While he is an endearing curmudgeon, he is also deceptively hypocritical. When predictably poor tactics and rotations bequeath losses from the jaws of victory, he throws up his hands and takes no responsibility, instead blaming his own players lack of effort. (Somehow, he even manages to undermine a players work ethic before they have ever even donned a uniform...watch the video.) Such behavior is traitorous to his own values—discipline, accepting responsibility, no excuses. The coach expects accountability and responsibility from everyone not named Jerry Sloan.

In three weeks, following a thrashing by the Houston Rockets, I fully expect to read this post-game response from Sloan, "Look, I can't teach Brown how to be tall, okay? It wouldn't have mattered who was guarding Yao, I figured I might as well give Dee a shot. There is really nothing you can do in those kind of situations. The guy was just on a roll."

A coach absolving himself of responsibility is like Ken Lay saying he had no idea Enron’s accounting practices were faulty.

Oddly, the Utah sports press embraces Sloan’s rebuffs. Jerry must know what he’s doing, they say. This has led to a culture where fans also give Sloan the benefit of the doubt. However, that culture of trust is receding and for good reason. The rotten core of the apple is coming to the surface and browning the skin. Please, Jerry, give somebody else a chance to make this farm grow.

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[1] There are many talented and creative coaches out there willing to work within the modern boundaries of the NBA that include the new defensive rules and an up-tempo system of play which David Stern has demanded. We feel Stan Van Gundy or Marc Iavaroni would be very good replacements. Iavaroni is a former Jazz player and the top assistant on the most creative club in the NBA. He is anxious for a top coaching gig and could provide a system that would be both fun to watch and successful.

Van Gundy has a proven record of success in Miami. He might be a very good coach to develop Andrei Kirilenko’s unique distributor potential. The style of play he initiated in Miami utilized multiple ball-handlers and free-flowing ball movement that confused opposing teams.

[2] Deron Williams is immensely talented, but he is not John Stockton. However, this does not stop Sloan from trying to mould him into his favorite pet of old. Williams offensive potential is being under utilized because he is crammed into the Stockton’s old shorts. He is starting to shoot only when Sloan has deemed the “percentages” to be correct...which couldn't be more disturbing.

• Carlos Boozer is not Karl Malone. He does not, and probably cannot, play defense with the same ability. Boozer is very useful, but simply because he is a sieve on defense means he cannot be the franchise player Sloan wishes him to be.

• Andrei Kirilenko is one of the most unique talents in the NBA, many coaches would die to have the chance to work with someone of his ability. Rather than design a system to accommodate AK’s unusual abilities, Sloan has decided to blame most everything on Kirilenko.

• Lastly, Ronnie Brewer. This has been addressed in our previous incarnation Benoitfor3 (below see: "Sloan's deep dark secret...") in such detail to this point, we will not rehash.

Jazz reporters complicit with mass destruction

Utah Jazz beat reporters have sold their souls for access. Like the White House press corps prior to the Iraq war, Salt Lake City sports reporters have developed an odd culture of reverence to the organizations they are entrusted to examine. Their access is so cherished that they will not risk it to provide the public with the real story we deserve to know.

No reporter at the Deseret News or Salt Lake Tribune has had the guts to write a piece condemning Jerry Sloan for the pure insanity of starting a 6’1’’ man at shooting guard. Is there a good reason for not using Ronnie Brewer, or starting Gordon Giricek? What is it? Jazz fans want to hear it. Jazz fans are DYING to know. Any real journalist would give us this story. The reporters all know there is a great story here, but they won’t come out and say it: The emperor has no clothes.

Here’s the deal: Jerry Sloan holds strange nonsensical affections and grudges against players that are completely independent of how they perform on the court. Like Bush, Sloan is an ideologue who fixates. He wishes things were true, rather than looking for actual empirical evidence verifying they are indeed true.

Like Bush, Sloan is leading his organization into war (sports is sanitized warfare) on false premises: Derek Fisher’s veteran leadership and over-all nice guy demeanor makes up for the obvious facts—he is far too small to play the shooting guard position effectively in the NBA; cannot shoot; and, is not a great perimeter defender.

We’ve come to expect this rally-round-the-flag reverence to power in American politics at the beginning of a real war. But in sports? This is truly odd. This is the one area where being as obnoxious as possible is welcome. So, why the kid gloves?

Here is the piece unique to Utah’s culture. If Sloan were a coach in Los Angeles or Detroit — or any city other than still-provincial Salt Lake — he would be massacred in the press for his un-explained personnel choices.

After Tracy McGrady averages 40 points against the Jazz in their upcoming first round loss, perhaps Sloan will face some scrutiny. However, as the botched media coverage prior to the Iraq War proves, journalists must be constantly critical and anticipate developments before they become terminal. Danger is indeed on the horizon…it’s even beginning to effect my sleep.

In my dreams, I see a baby-faced man wearing white. His outfit is trimmed in purple and gold. He is taking long-range shots over and over again. Twenty thousand Delta Center voices gasp, and then groan. I hear Hot Rod Hundley’s smooth voice saying “Benoit for …” BRICK. BRICK. BRICK. The words linger in the air and then scatter. The letters rearrange themselves into the shape of Dee Brown’s ever-cheerful face packing up his locker in early May. The scene shifts to the deck of an aircraft carrier off the coast of San Diego. On the flight deck is Derek Fisher wearing a tight-fitting flight suit. A lone hoop floats in the air, behind it a game of one-on-one is being played. A towering Saddam has burned Fisher on six straight jump shots. Wearing a tutu, Sloan watches and screams at a man holding the whistle.