Are You There, God? It's Me, Jazz Fan

I don’t know how much more my delicate sports-fan psyche can take.

I knew getting attached to Carlos Boozer was dangerous. I know what everybody says: “Professional basketball players don’t care about you.” “They only care about themselves.” “Get too attached and they’ll break your heart every time.”

But that’s just in other cities, on other teams. It’s different here.

We put statues of players who didn’t even win championships in front of our arena. We’ve had the same coach for 20 years. Some of our players never even used agents.

How could this happen?

I believed him when he said he didn’t want to play for any other teams, and when he said he’d play as hard as he could to make the Jazz a contender again. Why wouldn’t I? He would never do anything to hurt me. He’s so nice, so smart. He went to Duke. He’s from Alaska.

Those people in Cleveland were just jealous. They don’t know the real Carlos like I do.

I gave him everything a fan could. I cheered for him. I spent a month’s salary to see him play. I bought his jersey for my kid. I stood by him even when his defense made Lamar Odom look like Hakeem Olajuwon.

I told myself “Of course he belongs on the Olympic team.”  

Why? Why? Why?

Sure, I thought it was a little over the top when the Jazz marketed him and Deron as the “Next Stockton and Malone,” when deep down I knew the “Next Stockton and Bill Walton in the later stages of his career” would have been more appropriate.

But I didn’t say anything. I figured it was close enough.  

How could I have been so naïve?  

It did seem strange that an injury that can keep him out for three months can’t get diagnosed after seven MRIs and an exploratory surgery. But what do I know? I'm not a doctor. He’s just being cautious so he can be healthy in May and take us deep into the playoffs again.

Right? 

Maybe he really doesn’t want to sign with Miami. Maybe he still wants to play for the Jazz and opting out is just a good business decision, like he said. That whole thing in Cleveland was just good business after all, and he’s a businessman.

Besides, who wants to live in Cleveland?

I did hear those rumors that Derek Fisher really just wanted out of Salt Lake City and played Larry Miller like one of those traveling salesmen who sells life insurance policies to old people, but it just doesn’t make sense.

Why would anyone want to play in Miami or L.A. when they can play in a great place like Utah for such a cool guy as Jerry Sloan?

Why would anyone want to leave when they can play for such great fans like me?

I’m so confused. I feel lost.

I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have Deron. At least I know he’ll never leave me.

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