Getting Jazzed for the Jazz

Brad Thomson

Personal Blog Entry 1

This past Friday the Utah Jazz competed in the final game of their pre-season. Thanks to my fabulous Asian friend Chris Hom, I was able to go (It’s not racist. We’re friends, so be quiet.). The Jazz were pushing for their eighth pre-season win. If they obtained it, they would be going into the regular season undefeated.

This may not really amount to much seeing as pre-season play doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things, but it didn’t stop the more loyal Salt Lake fans from showing up anyway. There aren’t many things that people get attached to like they get attached to sports teams. The energy and pride people display at sporting events is quite unique, and the people surrounding me at this game were definitely proud. They were proud of their team, proud of their team’s performance, and proud to be from Salt Lake.

As we rode TRAX to the game and looked out the window it was interesting to see the concentration of Jazz paraphernalia increase as we neared the Energy Solutions Arena. Upon exiting the train we were bombarded by people selling last minute tickets and advertisements heralding various events that would take place in the arena later in the year. We made our way through security and found our seats.

Like at any highly publicized event, advertisements were everywhere. The inside of a sports arena is an icon of our capitalistic lifestyle, and a constant reminder that teams are not only there for the entertainment of the masses, but to make money. Businesses with a strong presence in the valley sponsored competitions and prize giveaways, banner ads wrapped around the seats, and the scoreboard flashed constant admonitions to drink sprite and buy houses from such-and-such a builder. Despite the prominent placement and psychedelic nature of the advertisements, once the game started they were the last thing on anyone’s mind.

A man behind me was particularly adamant about telling the players exactly what they should be doing. He explained to them what they did wrong, and when they made a good play he congratulated them heartily. It seemed a pity that the players on the court couldn’t actually hear anything that he was saying. Instead his words were lost on those of us who were surrounding him. This man and his pointless instruction were by no means out of place however. A boy who couldn’t have been more than thirteen adamantly explained to those around him who was who on the court and why this or that person was currently benched.

It was interesting to view Salt Lake thought the eyes of a sports fan. I’ve had the experience in other cities (mostly Seattle) but it was nice to see how citizens of Utah take pride in their teams and claim them as a part of their own identity.