A Night at the Jazz

Long story short: Last summer, I was the last-minute substitute auctioneer at a "ward service auction." We traded services we each could off, i.e. book-repair, home-cooked meals, editing, etc, in exchange for canned foods for the homeless. A member of my Bishopric offered two free regular-season Jazz tickets (he works for the Jazz).

I saved all my canned food specifically for those two tickets. It came down to me and a dude from Russia. I lost. I was crushed. I suppose as MC I could've cut off bidding while I was still ahead, but us substitute-auctioneers live by a code of honor. But all's well that end's well, for the same Bishopric guy told me later in the parking lot that since I was such a good sport about it, he could still hook me up with Jazz tickets.

This was last summer. When the NBA regular season finally started again, I was a little hesitant to broach the subject with, "hey, that pair of $80-$400 tickets you mentioned off-hand you could get me once? Could I still get those?" But, he was cool, and actually reminded me--multiple times--that he still owed me a pair of tickets.

So, last night I finally followed through in getting those tickets from him, when the Jazz played Cleveland at home. I assumed he'd just meet my date and I in the lobby, hand 'em off, and then she and I would seat ourselves up in the rafters somewhere. I was wrong.

Apparently there are catered meals for VIP ticket-holders down below, and he invited us down to eat with him there before tip-off. Been awhile since I've had a decent marinated steak. The Spurs-Bucks game played on big-screens while we chowed down. The silverware and center-pieces were all so nice I was almost afraid I'd break something. Well, that is till I filled up my paper-cup at the fast-food-style soda-fountain.

We sat about 15 rows away the court; normally at pro sporting events I spend as much time watching the jumbo-tron as I do the court itself, since I'm normally so far away that I can ironically see the game better on the TV. Not this time. Utah blew out Cleveland (clearly losing Lebron did them no favors), but it was still a fun game to watch just by beholding up close and personal all those marvelous displays of athleticism.

I once taught English in China, and though there's a Chinese Basketball League, even they prefer watching the NBA--Yao Ming was their hero for making it over. My students picked English names; I taught at least a half-dozen Kobe Bryants. Also taught a couple Steve Nash's and Alan Iversons (this was '06).

So yes, I can confirm that games really are funner to watch up close. (And yes, "funner" is and should be a word; if "bigger" is a word, there's no reason to deny other adjectives the same construction.) And I don't even like to play basketball. Haven't even tried to follow the NBA since the Sonics moved to Oklahoma. Couldn't tell you the names of Utah's starters if my life depended on it.

We hung our coats in the same waiting room as friends and relatives of the players hang out in. Overheard Andrei Kirilenko's Mom and sister talking in Russian. Actually saw Kirilenko in person. Didn't talk to him though; couldn't think of anything to say besides "ya ni gabaru pa ruski," which didn't strike me as particularly clever.

I was told the Russian guy in my ward did in fact go up and talk to him--I read "The Brothers Karamazov" last Fall, and from it I've realized that general gregariousness, talking loudly and at length with whoever, even (and especially) total strangers, with great conviction about things one perhaps does not fully understand, is in fact quintessentially Russian.

When we went to go get our coats back after the game, the security guard wouldn't let us pass, but then my Bishopric guy said casually "They're with me." And good thing we were with him, cause I couldn't have found that coat-room on my own; that building is absolutely huge and all the gray corridors look the same. Of course, it's like my Bishopric guy said, "If you have to work for a living, this ain't a bad place to do it." He attends almost every home game. Free. He's a contract lawyer for the Jazz. For the first time in ever, law school suddenly don't sound too bad.

But then, it's also like my High School English teacher once said: "You can be rich, or you can have rich friends. I prefer the latter."