At first glance, Jae Crowder and Grayson Allen might seem like the Jazz’s version of the Odd Couple.
One looks like he was carved out of a mountain by Michelangelo himself, the other like a skateboarding neighborhood dude you’d call to mow your lawn.
One has lines of wisdom in his face, etched there by care and labor thrust into 463 NBA games, the other is all bouncy and fresh-faced, like a communications major wearing a Star Wars T-shirt, carrying a Pee Chee folder, lallygagging across campus.
One has the bearing of a serious, grown man who, like E.