Utah Jazz vs. Golden State Warriors Game 1
The Jazz clinched a second round playoff berth after an intense win versus the Houston Rockets in Game 7 last Saturday. As soon as the game was over I thought about getting tickets for Game 1 vs. Golden State on Monday night. The tickets went on sale 30 minutes after the end of the Houston game.
I have always wanted to attend a playoff game just because NBA basketball is so much better during the playoffs. The play is more intense, the players play harder and the crowd is way more into it. So I figured this was my best chance.
I dial up the ticket office at 10:40 p.m. on Saturday night. I'm somewhat giddy, but kind of feel guilty that if I'm successful in scoring tickets then that means that some diehard Jazz fan will have to sit home and watch it on TV. I'm not a diehard Jazz fan. I watch them when I can, I root for them to win, but I don't go into a shell after the game if they lose. Only BYU football games make me do that.
I finally get into the automated system. Through this whole process I will be talking to a machine. Whatever happened to good ol' human customer service. Someday I'll have a robot that will automatically dial and order these tickets for me. I go through all the options and find that the game will start at 8:30 p.m. on Monday. That's a late start, but I'll be OK. I'm still young and I can stay up till midnight if I need to. I find the cheapest tickets offered. $18 a piece. $24 each after Ticketmaster adds their surcharge to do absolutely nothing. Unless they are giving the computer I'm talking to a raise then they don't deserve an extra $6 a ticket.
I request four tickets. Now I'm assuming that Becky is going with me and if I had two extra then I'll have a lot of people at church on Sunday that will want to be my friend. I've always believed that if you can't make friends, you can buy them. It worked swimmingly for me with the Las Vegas Bowl tickets. Alas they don't have four tickets together available. I punch in the next option which is two tickets. Success. Section 121 Row 21 seats 7-8. They sound pretty good.
I'm feeling great until Becky gives me a look and says "What about the girls?" I'm thinking "I have a family? I've got Jazz playoff tickets everything else is secondary and therefore not important." But I say "Oh yeah, those wonderful little humans that seem to exist in our household yet they, for some reason, can't seem to take care of themselves." Not really. I say "Oh yeah, I kind of forgot about them."
So it's time to find a babysitter that will take the kids at around 7:00 p.m. and stay with them until about 12:30 a.m. when we get back home. Supermother-in-law to the rescue. Sidenote: My mother-in-law has a bunch of redeeming qualities. She's got the Celestial Kingdom sewn up. She happens to really, really love her grandkids. And I think our kids really kind of dig her. Maybe it's because she'll say "yes" to every question Aubree will ever ask.
Aubree: "Grandma, can I skip dinner and only eat treats?"
Grandma Stevens: "Why yes Aubree, because you are the littlest angel I've ever met and you could never do anything wrong."
Aubree: "Grandma, can I have the fudge chocolate cake with two scoops of ice cream?"
Grandma Stevens: "No, but you can have the fudge chocolate cake covered in chocolate sauce with three scoops of ice cream with whipped cream on top. And a cup of chocolate milk because you're so cute."
Sydney: (thinking to herself) "I'll just suck my thumb and give Grandma a smile so when I'm old enough I can cash in just like Aubree."
Supermother-in-law agrees to take the girls even though it is somewhat inconvenient for her. Becky and I really try to not take advantage of her by having her watch the girls all the time. We try to mix it up by taking advantage of Ann from time to time. But we're in a jam and we have a lifeline thrown to us. We really are lucky to have them so close by.
So on Monday we are off to Morgan to drop off the girls. We decide to have FHE in the car during our trip to Morgan. It's Becky's idea to have FHE in the car so as the patriarch of the family I put her in charge. We have an opening song or two (Follow the Prophet, Popcorn Popping, and I'm a Child of God) and then we have a quick prayer. Becky asks what the lesson should be. I suggest that we talk about obeying our parents and not whining all the time thinking this would be a good lesson for Becky. Becky doesn't get my hint and ends up lecturing Aubree for the next 10 minutes. Sydney sleeps during the lesson. She could turn out to be the rebel of the family.
After ditching the kids we're off to the game. It kind of feels like the old days when Becky and I could go and do fun stuff without having to worry about anything but ourselves. We get to the game in plenty of time and grab our tickets. Section 121 Row 21 Seats 7-8. We already know we're in the upper bowl, but we soon find out we're on the top row of the upper bowl. We're pretty much right behind one of the baskets. The players warming up actually look small. We have the worst possible seats in the arena.
But we are in the arena which is the important part. I absolutely love the electricity I feel at certain sporting events. Most events don't carry the electricity, but I felt it on Monday night. One other thing I love is watching people. I like airports for that reason alone. You get a nice cross-section of society in one place. And we're sitting in the nosebleed seats so we're definately not with the high rollers.
Just some observations:
The guy next to me was probably in his 40's and was at the game by himself. I almost wanted to hug him because he was a) there by himself and b) a dedicated enough fan to go to a game by himself. He was my type of guy. Oddly I didn't say a word to him all game. Maybe because he was super intense and was rocking in his seat. I would make fun of him, but I do the same thing at BYU football games.
At one point they are launching T-shirts into the crowd. It kind of cracks me up that people will put their life at risk diving for a $5 shirt. I follow this one particular shirt into the crowd where it falls at the feet of this 65 year-old man and 10-year old kid. They both grab the shirt at the same time and start tussling for it. The man is victorious as he rips the shirt from the kid. The kid then walks down the portal with a glum look on his face. The man's wife then leans over to him and says something. Probably "Way to go tough guy. You sure showed him." The man then leaves his seat and heads down the portal in search of the kid. The man returns with shirt in hand having the same glum look. There were no winners in this battle.
Just down the row from us was a kid who was decked out in Jazz gear from head to toe complete with wrist bands and a head band. As the Jazz were making a few bad plays and losing their lead I kept hearing what sounded like someone throwing something against the wall behind us. It was kind of an odd, plastic, hollow sound. At one point I hear the sound again and then hear the kid's mom scream at him to "Knock it off!" Everyone turns and looks at the kid as he hangs his head in shame for being cussed out by his mom in front of hundreds of people. Interestingly enough he didn't make another peep the whole game.
After the game was over we were exiting the building when Becky spotted Pres. Monson. You could tell he was trying to blend into the crowd, but it's kind of hard when you are one of the most recognizable figures in Utah. Then you could hear all the chatter "Hey it's Pres. Monson." "Look it's Pres. Monson." Followed by "Let's go shake his hand." "Let's go say 'hi'." I actually felt sorry for him. Anonymity alone is why I never want to be famous. I would absolutely hate it.
By the way, the Jazz won their game. The crowd was the loudest I've ever heard in an indoor arena for a game. My ears were still ringing when I went to bed that night.
There you go. In order to make up for lost time you have three posts in 10 days. Don't expect that pace to continue.
I have always wanted to attend a playoff game just because NBA basketball is so much better during the playoffs. The play is more intense, the players play harder and the crowd is way more into it. So I figured this was my best chance.
I dial up the ticket office at 10:40 p.m. on Saturday night. I'm somewhat giddy, but kind of feel guilty that if I'm successful in scoring tickets then that means that some diehard Jazz fan will have to sit home and watch it on TV. I'm not a diehard Jazz fan. I watch them when I can, I root for them to win, but I don't go into a shell after the game if they lose. Only BYU football games make me do that.
I finally get into the automated system. Through this whole process I will be talking to a machine. Whatever happened to good ol' human customer service. Someday I'll have a robot that will automatically dial and order these tickets for me. I go through all the options and find that the game will start at 8:30 p.m. on Monday. That's a late start, but I'll be OK. I'm still young and I can stay up till midnight if I need to. I find the cheapest tickets offered. $18 a piece. $24 each after Ticketmaster adds their surcharge to do absolutely nothing. Unless they are giving the computer I'm talking to a raise then they don't deserve an extra $6 a ticket.
I request four tickets. Now I'm assuming that Becky is going with me and if I had two extra then I'll have a lot of people at church on Sunday that will want to be my friend. I've always believed that if you can't make friends, you can buy them. It worked swimmingly for me with the Las Vegas Bowl tickets. Alas they don't have four tickets together available. I punch in the next option which is two tickets. Success. Section 121 Row 21 seats 7-8. They sound pretty good.
I'm feeling great until Becky gives me a look and says "What about the girls?" I'm thinking "I have a family? I've got Jazz playoff tickets everything else is secondary and therefore not important." But I say "Oh yeah, those wonderful little humans that seem to exist in our household yet they, for some reason, can't seem to take care of themselves." Not really. I say "Oh yeah, I kind of forgot about them."
So it's time to find a babysitter that will take the kids at around 7:00 p.m. and stay with them until about 12:30 a.m. when we get back home. Supermother-in-law to the rescue. Sidenote: My mother-in-law has a bunch of redeeming qualities. She's got the Celestial Kingdom sewn up. She happens to really, really love her grandkids. And I think our kids really kind of dig her. Maybe it's because she'll say "yes" to every question Aubree will ever ask.
Aubree: "Grandma, can I skip dinner and only eat treats?"
Grandma Stevens: "Why yes Aubree, because you are the littlest angel I've ever met and you could never do anything wrong."
Aubree: "Grandma, can I have the fudge chocolate cake with two scoops of ice cream?"
Grandma Stevens: "No, but you can have the fudge chocolate cake covered in chocolate sauce with three scoops of ice cream with whipped cream on top. And a cup of chocolate milk because you're so cute."
Sydney: (thinking to herself) "I'll just suck my thumb and give Grandma a smile so when I'm old enough I can cash in just like Aubree."
Supermother-in-law agrees to take the girls even though it is somewhat inconvenient for her. Becky and I really try to not take advantage of her by having her watch the girls all the time. We try to mix it up by taking advantage of Ann from time to time. But we're in a jam and we have a lifeline thrown to us. We really are lucky to have them so close by.
So on Monday we are off to Morgan to drop off the girls. We decide to have FHE in the car during our trip to Morgan. It's Becky's idea to have FHE in the car so as the patriarch of the family I put her in charge. We have an opening song or two (Follow the Prophet, Popcorn Popping, and I'm a Child of God) and then we have a quick prayer. Becky asks what the lesson should be. I suggest that we talk about obeying our parents and not whining all the time thinking this would be a good lesson for Becky. Becky doesn't get my hint and ends up lecturing Aubree for the next 10 minutes. Sydney sleeps during the lesson. She could turn out to be the rebel of the family.
After ditching the kids we're off to the game. It kind of feels like the old days when Becky and I could go and do fun stuff without having to worry about anything but ourselves. We get to the game in plenty of time and grab our tickets. Section 121 Row 21 Seats 7-8. We already know we're in the upper bowl, but we soon find out we're on the top row of the upper bowl. We're pretty much right behind one of the baskets. The players warming up actually look small. We have the worst possible seats in the arena.
But we are in the arena which is the important part. I absolutely love the electricity I feel at certain sporting events. Most events don't carry the electricity, but I felt it on Monday night. One other thing I love is watching people. I like airports for that reason alone. You get a nice cross-section of society in one place. And we're sitting in the nosebleed seats so we're definately not with the high rollers.
Just some observations:
The guy next to me was probably in his 40's and was at the game by himself. I almost wanted to hug him because he was a) there by himself and b) a dedicated enough fan to go to a game by himself. He was my type of guy. Oddly I didn't say a word to him all game. Maybe because he was super intense and was rocking in his seat. I would make fun of him, but I do the same thing at BYU football games.
At one point they are launching T-shirts into the crowd. It kind of cracks me up that people will put their life at risk diving for a $5 shirt. I follow this one particular shirt into the crowd where it falls at the feet of this 65 year-old man and 10-year old kid. They both grab the shirt at the same time and start tussling for it. The man is victorious as he rips the shirt from the kid. The kid then walks down the portal with a glum look on his face. The man's wife then leans over to him and says something. Probably "Way to go tough guy. You sure showed him." The man then leaves his seat and heads down the portal in search of the kid. The man returns with shirt in hand having the same glum look. There were no winners in this battle.
Just down the row from us was a kid who was decked out in Jazz gear from head to toe complete with wrist bands and a head band. As the Jazz were making a few bad plays and losing their lead I kept hearing what sounded like someone throwing something against the wall behind us. It was kind of an odd, plastic, hollow sound. At one point I hear the sound again and then hear the kid's mom scream at him to "Knock it off!" Everyone turns and looks at the kid as he hangs his head in shame for being cussed out by his mom in front of hundreds of people. Interestingly enough he didn't make another peep the whole game.
After the game was over we were exiting the building when Becky spotted Pres. Monson. You could tell he was trying to blend into the crowd, but it's kind of hard when you are one of the most recognizable figures in Utah. Then you could hear all the chatter "Hey it's Pres. Monson." "Look it's Pres. Monson." Followed by "Let's go shake his hand." "Let's go say 'hi'." I actually felt sorry for him. Anonymity alone is why I never want to be famous. I would absolutely hate it.
By the way, the Jazz won their game. The crowd was the loudest I've ever heard in an indoor arena for a game. My ears were still ringing when I went to bed that night.
There you go. In order to make up for lost time you have three posts in 10 days. Don't expect that pace to continue.
posted by Scott's Blog at Tuesday, May 08, 2007
2 Comments:
Wow, scott, I went to check your blog on a fluke and behold I actually have to catch up.
When I was in High school I got into the Jazz when they were in the playoffs against the Chicago Bulls. Those were the times of Stockton and Malone. Ah, the good ole days.
I like going to live sports much more than watching them on TV. At home, I can always find something more interesting on.
That was fun to read. I swear, Scott, you can make the most boring post come alive. I almost didn't read it because I saw it was about a basketball game, but then I got sucked in. Good writing, good writing. I loved your observations of the crowd.
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