As a kid, professional athletes and teams are larger than life; gods of old amongst mortals of today. You look up to them, literally and figuratively, while dreaming for a chance of an up-close visit, a conversation, or an autograph. They are called heroes, idols, role models, superstars, and celebrities and people who are untouchable. On your screen, out of reach, in your mind but never in your person, it’s almost as if they aren’t even real.

As a big kid now, those feelings still hold true, but I had to hold back my giddiness and fandom as I got an opportunity to interact with the Jazz on a professional level.

Context: I’ve written about Utah State football for the Desert News this season, putting out a weekly 3×3 column filled with notes, stats, and things of interest from the previous game, the upcoming game, and the Mountain West as a whole. It’s been a lot of fun to follow my favorite college team in one of their best seasons ever, while also doing what I love: writing. As a thank you, a guy from the Des offered me a media pass to cover a Jazz game.

I said yes, of course. 

Duh.

Jazz versus Mavericks, a Wednesday out of the ordinary

Last Wednesday, November 7th, the Dallas Mavericks were in town and my media pass was waiting for me. I was stressed throughout the day with other responsibilities, but my wife just kept telling me: as soon as you get in the car to drive to Salt Lake, it’s all fun and it’s all positive. Consider it another item on your Jazz fandom resume, she said. While I drove, I psyched myself up. This was a dream of mine since I started writing. Subconsciously, this really was a dream of mine since I was a kid adopting the Jazz into the fibers of my being. To cover the Jazz, like really cover the Jazz?

Dope was an understatement.

I met Ryan McDonald, of the Des, at the J-Note at 4:45 and he took me around to get my pass and begin the journey down into the basement of Vivint. For three levels, we went down into a cement cave surrounded by pipes and construction equipment. By 5:15, we were in a room, better categorized as an oversized closet, for Coach Quin Snyder’s pre-game press conference.

As we waited, reporters filtered in and my first memory took place. Kristen Kenney, the Jazz sideline reporter, came in with her coffee and took a sip. Immediately, she splurted and exclaimed, “Ah crap, I got a latte but forget to get soy milk.” I don’t know why, but I’ll never forget that line.

Snyder walked in exactly at 5:15 pm and spoke briefly, ten minutes, about the time he first met Mavs rookie Luka Doncic and the modernization of the three-point shot. I stood in the back at this conference, just grateful to be a fly on the wall and hear a basketball genius just talk hoops.

Regarding offense:

“Shots are worth more and over time as players start to shoot it more and more at a younger age, coaches start to get more comfortable with it and it becomes considered a good shot, we’ll see it become good offense. I would think the game would continue to gravitate toward efficiency. My guess would be the game continues to evolve and as we see players five years from now, their range increasing, maybe we’ll see longer and longer threes. I mean, we’ve seen that with above the break threes. If they start putting in a four-point line, we’ll figure out how to use it.”

Of Donovan Mitchell:

“He’s our most dynamic offensive player and a catalyst for a lot of different things. When we don’t have him, we have to be that more efficient. More precise.”

Next Stop: Darrell Griffith

Griff, named Dr. Dunkenstein, was invited to make a Jazz alumni appearance given his L’ville connection with Donovan Mitchell and the fact that the Jazz were wearing their purple throwbacks for the first time.

Again: fly on the wall.

Griff recalled his days of ‘ball as a scorer and how he would’ve done with more emphasis on a three-point shot. He told stories of being coached by Frank Layden and playing with Mark Eaton but also with Stockton and Malone, too. He spoke about Donovan Mitchell and what advice he would give the new sophomore. I could’ve listened to him for an hour as he told stories of his days in the league.

Our duties were done until the game started, so Ryan took me to the media room, named after Hot Rod Hundley, to grab dinner and mingle. Craig Bolerjack walked in, said hi to everyone. Matt Harpring walked by, so tall. Alema Harrington was a rock star, rocking a purple suit for throwback night. Kenney and her posses wandered to and fro, looking glamorous and Hollywood.

I was supposed to be eating, but I couldn’t help but stare at these people I see on TV.

I then walked back into the room where the journalists worked. Outlets were at each seat, plus stacks of papers the Jazz provided as notes or information. I set my stuff down and saw all these Twitter celebrities: Aaron Falk, Andy Larsen, Eric Woodyard, and the new TribJazz Eric Walden. These are guys I go to for my Jazz fix and inside scoop. These are guys that show the fanbase a glimpse of our team and these are the guys highest ranked on Jazz Twitter must-follows.

And I’m just hanging out with them.

The whole night felt surreal, but also just, like, real. It was all normal. These were people doing their jobs. People who had other interests and hobbies and who participated in conversations of such things. One beat writer wants to be a teacher. One beat writer jumped into an interview session late, saying “I had to do Dad things.” Another beat writer didn’t need to be there, but had nothing else to do and wanted a free meal.

These were people who looked normal, too. And the places were normal. The pre-game conference room, and even the locker room later, just felt normal. I was expected a big ordeal, something to awestruck, and it did but, like, it didn’t, too.

IDK. It was just normal.

I grabbed a bite, talked to a few people, but wanted to take advantage of my media credentials to sit on the front row for warm-ups. As I got there, Joe Ingles was finishing up and waved to fans as he walked into the tunnel. I then watched Rudy Gobert and Jae Crowder do their thing. Crowder, specifically, was automatic out beyond the three-line. He has been so good for the Jazz this year, and he was so good in his practice and preparation, too. Finally, the BFFs Donovan Mitchell and Ricky Rubio came out to practice ball-handling and shooting. I watched as Mitchell, who was listed as probable but later promoted to available, hit 4/8 threes from the top of the arc, went 3/3 from the right side angle, and then went 3/3 from the right corner. He then went through a dribbling routine with Johnnie Bryant, one of the lead assistants.

 

Warm-ups wrapped up and I had more time to kill so I wandered the basement tunnels and took pictures with my media pass (making sure no one was looking) and then went into writing mode to prep for my takeaways assignment that would be due as soon as the buzzer sounded.

And then it was game time.

I sat on media row, surrounded by reporters from ESPN, the AP, the Athletic, and Spanish-broadcasters, too. As the game tipped off, I cheered and exclaimed approval at plays but needed to be reminded I was to stay objective and neutral (oops). The game was a route in the Jazz’s favor, a 117-102 win including two highlight-reel dunks by DM45, and sitting amongst my idols as peers was just awesome.

But all of that was just the beginning.

After the horn

Once the buzzer sounded, we all rushed back downstairs into the cellar and were ushered into the closet room for Snyder’s postgame. This time, we had chairs and I was front row. Snyder walked in and the room went silent. He answered a few questions again, about Donovan’s play and how the start of the game was good team play, but still seemed in a serious mood despite a win (they were on a four-game losing streak prior to the night). It was business from a man who knows his team hasn’t lived up to their potential yet.

On defense:

“I thought we really competed. Ricky, in particular, his pick and roll defense, just competing at the point of the attack. We wanted to play our defense with some heart, which I believe we did, now we just to add some smarts. I think we came out with the right frame of mind.”

Seven initial turnovers, resulting in 13 points:

“The fact that we converted on the (turnovers) was good. I think we came out with the right mindset defensively and got rewarded for that. We weren’t gambling. We want to defend but also be disciplined at the same time. That’s where the fouls come in and we need to stop fouling.”

On Donovan Mitchell:

“Every game is a new challenge for Don. Every quarter for every game. That’s the way he has to approach it. That’s how the team has to approach it. We’re just taking what is in front of us day by day. Not thinking about where we should be, or where we were, or where we want to be. That’s the focus Donovan needs –  to just be in the moment and make the right play at the right time and attack while he’s doing it.”

Locker Room Fist Bump

I then went with Ryan into the locker room where a Mitchell and Griffith tag-team interview was underway. I was stuck in the back but had a smile on my face and a light in my eye to just be in the locker room. Like, the Jazz locker room. Like, the FREAKING JAZZ LOCKER ROOM. I simply looked around in circles at each stall while the interview was going on. I noticed Mitchell’s Old Spice deodorant on the shelf, but not in the organizational basket. Crowder was off to the side putting on lotion and Ekpe Udoh was a BFG just trotting around joking with staff, media, and personnel. Towels and jerseys were being thrown to the laundry crew in the middle, scattered on the Jazz carpet.

Griff’s interview ended so I paid more attention to Mitchell and even moved around to get a better look.  He was sitting there, with recorders and cameras in his face like it was no big deal. He looked up to us, given that he was sitting and we were standing, and it felt kind of awkward. At this moment I finally understood the fishbowl expression.

Once DM was finished, everyone shifted onto Rudy Gobert. I had debated all night how to act in front of Mitchell as I am a fan first and writer second. I love his game and love the guy’s off-court attitude and personality. I wanted to take a picture but that would be too unprofessional. Could I ask for an autograph? What if I lied a little and said it was for my son? I was too nervous, and too conflicted, to do either so as he walked by I looked at him and whispered, “I’m new at this media thing, but I just wanted you to know I’m a big fan and I just love ya.” He looked back at me, straight into my eyes!, and lit up with a big grin and said, “appreciate it.” To which I said, “anytime brother” and gave him a fist bump

Yeah, I fist-bumped Spida Mitch.

And it was awesome.

I went through the interviewing process with Gobert and Ricky Rubio mesmerized by the accents in person. Gobert was so tall and muscular while Rubio’s man-bun was released and everywhere. Gobert talked about the upcoming date with ex Gordon Hayward while also giving some insight to their off-court relationship.  Rubio talked about the team and the offense as if he had a bball Ph.D. Sure, he admitted, the first half of basketball was really good for the Jazz, but “we got to be more ambitious.” He added, “We want to be that team that never stops. Keeps grinding. Keep playing hard on defense.”

Last up for me was Derrick Favors, wearing a Paper Root, purple Prince shirt. He was asked about Gordon Hayward, too, and joked that the arena “could be empty” but that “it was going to just be another game for us.” And then the locker room began to filter out. Ingles never passed through, which was a bummer, but I was up close with so many of these guys and in the weirdest environment given they were in and out of showers and changing (I saw a lot of skin).

I was part of it.

Dreaming

I eventually went back to my car and sat there before taking off, empty that the night was now over. I let out a sigh. And another. And then another.

As soon as I found out about the opportunity, it was all anticipation and excitement. The day of, those feelings were still there but turning into nerves. And now, in about six total hours of work time, it was over.

Sigh.

What if, I wondered, this was my full-time job? What if I could interact with the players and Jazz staff on a regular basis that they knew me. We could have inside jokes, conversations about life, and connections outside of hoops. What if, I thought, I didn’t have to just make this another notch on my Jazz fandom resume, but a lifestyle? Instead of being giddy as a fan, I could be a peer, friend, and colleague? For one night, it was both. Next time?

Wait: would there be a next time?

I drove home, content and satisfied but still numb on the inside to its reality and conclusion. As I climbed into bed, I rewatched videos and pictures while remembering of the night’s events to just hold onto the evening for a minute longer.

It wasn’t just a dream but as I began to dream, it was all I wanted to have.