How does it go? "Something, something, determination, something. Zions - We haven't forgotten who keeps us in business." Who? 'cause it ain't Carlos Boozer.
News flash: Carlos is going to have surgery and sit on his behind a few more months. What a shock. I admit it; I hopped on the "dump Boozer" wagon a while back. I listened to my brother call him "Wusser," "[----]er," "Loozer," and "that lazy --------------." I learned that Paul "double double" Millsap was the lowest-paid player on the team. I answered the phone when my mother called mid-game to say, "The Jazz shouldn't let Carlos do color commentary. He doesn't even pretend that he wants to play."
I heard the jokes about the Zions Bank commercial: "They used still photos because Boozer couldn't make it all the way through a layup." "Slow mo? That's live action." "They couldn't show the whole film; Boozer signed with Wells Fargo before they were done making it." Etc.
I have struggled with the Jazz-ticket concept for years. Each year (except for a Brokeback Mountain boycott), I signed up for shared tickets, but would feel a twinge as I walked past a homeless individual or realized what the Humane Society or the Red Cross could do with the ridiculous sums of money I was forking over. Unfortunately, I love the Jazz. I tape games. I rewatch close ones (when we win). I time my jogging so I can do it while watching a game or listening to Hot Rod. I went to Sloan's first game while recovering from surgery.
But I am sick of the "Oh, I stubbed my toe, I'd better sit out for six weeks" vibe we get from even our own players now. As someone who watched John Stockton and Karl Malone play through dislocations and everything else, I have a hard time when Andre Kirilenko rides the pine because of a sprained finger tip. It's the same trainer that Karl and John had -- what could be the difference? You say advice from agents; I say wussiness.
What does this have to do with Utah politics? OK, nothing. But I feel better.