It’s an odd phenomenon that comes over me as I follow this iteration of Utah Jazz basketball. Noticing Will Hardy’s squad was ahead of New York at the first quarter break, 25 to 24 my immediate response was both unhesitant and instinctual.
“I’m not worried,” I impulsively spurted. “They’ll fall behind in no time.”
WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO ME?
Do I yet possess a competitive bone in my malnourished hooping skeleton? Has this Jazz team killed my desire for the smallest of victories? Am I, like the current Jazz roster, designed as a punching bag for the basketball elite?