Full-Time General (September 21, 2007)


Every morning, on my way to work, I get the 411 on B-Ville and the surrounding wooded areas from my moma. Nothing really changes, but if it does, I’m going to know about it.

The other morning, I heard about my papaw’s feud with the squirrels. They’ve just been tearing up his pecan trees and he can’t get rid of ‘em. Where there’s a will, there’s a way. Aunt Ev’s the hero (again) and Papaw’s feeling a little bit better about life. That’s great news, front page if you ask me.

But getting an earful of news like this every day can make a person feel a little down in the dumps. Things are looking up in the pecan orchard, but what do I have to tell? I knew it would take a lot to beat the squirrel story, so I put in some extra effort and went out and got this jam up job that’s pretty much a dream come true.

After a couple blue moons, I officially became the Communications Coordinator for the Utah Jazz and Salt Lake Bees on September 11, 2007. Boo-ya! I’m pretty sure I almost wet my britches, but I think I was entitled.

So, I got on the horn with moma, heard her famous “I’m so proud of you, Han” and told her to beat that. She had nothing. Big surprise. She ain’t beat it yet.

Don’t think that, just because I have a bit more behind-the-scenes security than I did two weeks ago, I’m going to get the big head. I might start referring to myself in third person on occasion, but who doesn’t do that?

All hoopla aside, I’ve been getting a few emails asking how I got started in this business. Here’s the breakdown:

I have a degree in Sports Administration; that was probably my first start in the right direction. Then, I found a place with pro sports and good people. Utah. Then, I started looking for my ‘in.’

In the summer of 2004, my moma actually found out about a Jazz game operations internship. I applied. I interviewed. I didn’t get it. It wasn’t the greatest day of my life, but I didn’t give up. I did the fan thing and kept myself in the know and, meanwhile, I accepted an internship in the Salt Lake Community College Athletics department.

I worked in game operations and promotions for all five sports in 2004-05. I had to get another job to supplement my income, but I was getting my feet wet. The next year, I was given more responsibility at Salt Lake CC, being in charge of athletic events, writing PA announcements, picking up anything they would let me do.

Midway through 2006, I saw on this website that LHMSE was having a career fair in February. I stepped way out of my box, went to the thing, chatted it up with lots of folks, and got a phone call a few days later. It was my only phone call from conversations with at least 15 different people. I came in to interview for a Utah Jazz communications internship and scored.
I began working for the Jazz in March 2006 and thought it was the greatest thing ever. You’da thought they were gonna name a dirt road after me at home. (Can’t imagine what they’re cooking up now.) Not long after I got the internship, I received a promotion to Sports Information Director at the college. Things were looking good.

So, just over a year ago, I had three jobs; my adored internship with the Jazz, my much-loved part-time SID job at Salt Lake CC, and my ‘other’ job that just paid the bills. The bills got paid and so did my dues.

My duties for the Jazz increased over the last year. I wrote game program articles, went on player appearances, worked Jazz game nights, interviewed players and coaches, and the list goes on. That effort led to working in public relations for the Salt Lake Bees during the 2007 season. Forget the offseason, I knew I had more dues to pay.

I worked most game nights for the Bees, interviewed players and coaches, wrote game program stories, maintained the website, worked batting practices, oversaw mascot appearances, stayed up ‘til two in the morning putting together a postseason media guide, and, of course, the list goes on.

I’ve racked up as much experience as possible since I’ve been here and it’s literally paid off. No more three jobs for me. Once again, I’m happier than a possum in a persimmon tree.

Summer Cleaning (September 11, 2007)


A couple weeks ago, maybe more, my esteemed colleagues and I had the opportunity to do some spring cleaning in the Public Relations copy/coke machine/microwave/archive room by our cubicles. It wasn’t my momma’s version of washing the baseboards with soap and water, but boy did we do some cleanin’!

What was originally going to be a day job, turned into a good three days of blood, sweat, and tears. We took no prisoners.

We found head shots and team pictures from every NBA team all the way back to the George Mikan hook shot days. We found head shots of current employees from 20 years ago when big hair was more like a widespread disease than a trend.

We found a tattoo-less Dennis Rodman. We found pictures of the move from New Orleans to Salt Lake City. We found pictures of the groundbreaking and continual work to build the then Delta Center, now EnergySolutions Arena.

We found old magazines with the original Dream Team. We found shorts shorter than Stockton’s. I, of course, found the Mailman’s mug shot from his La Tech days, which can be seen below next to an action shot that looks all too familiar.

We were up to our elbows in Jazz memorabilia. I reckon that’s what took us three days, but it was worth it. My basketball card collection ain’t got nothing on that room.

Now that it’s all in order and Jerry Sloan’s file is before the T’s and not after, I sure can find stuff pretty fast. Want to see some of the other things we found? Click that little button up yonder and email me. I betcha I can find it.

The General's Home Court (August 31, 2007)


So I went to the ribbon-cutting ceremony for the new Jazz court at Veteran Memorial Park in the WJ on the west side of the SLC the other day. I got there and did the typical intern duties. I ran to the grocery store for a last minute purchase, manned the drink buckets, and passed out popsicles. Glamorous, I know. I just about lost my fourth and fifth fingers on my left hand to small children. More than once. I ain’t even lying.

But the cool thing was this. Those kids from the WJ have one heck of a sweet court to play on. I would have turned cartwheels down the aisles of the Bienville First Baptist Church or went hunting without hip waders on a muggy Louisiana summer night for just a taste of concrete. Those kids have it made in the shade.

Now I could have had it a lot worse so I ain’t trying to poor mouth. That ain’t my style. I take what I’m given and make it mine. And that’s what I did in my backyard. Take a looksie below. It’s seen its better day, but that’s my basketball hoop. The ant bed is just an added bonus.

It’s not quite the original. When I was about 12, my sister’s boyfriend dunked on it and broke it. He really burned my biscuits. Show off. I had to wait a while to get a new one too.

Anyway, that’s where I became a baller. If I played on the grass enough, it became dirt. You might see the remnants. On occasion I’d have an audience. At least I thought I did. My mamaw and papaw would sit out on the back porch while I was hoopin’ it up. They probably couldn’t see me through the pear tree and forget it if the clothes line was full, but I used my imagination like any other kid would do.

I give props to my sister (not her old boyfriend), the least athletically gifted of the three of us. She was my defender. I wouldn’t let her shoot cause I’d spend more time chasing the ball than actually working on my game. Her defensive slides were like a combo of an upbeat river dance and a Maori war dance. Frightening.

My basketball goal is like a basketball goal to me. I reckon Paul and Karl might have had one like it somewhere down the road. I wonder if my moma can get me pictures of those…

Western Expedition (August 27, 2007)


I remember moving to Utah. My little Ford Ranger struggled across the midwest plains, but she made it. She wasn’t made for mountains that’s for sure. She fought me like a mule every time I’d try.

I wonder what Ronnie Price was driving when he first came to Utah. I should have asked him. He probably would have told me. He’s a nice guy. I met him. I like him.

He told me about having to move back. He was about to become a first-time home owner the day of his “Welcome Back to Utah” press conference at the ZBBC on the west side of the SLC. He said that when he went to go look at the house (the one that he was hoping to purchase), he was preparing to introduce himself to the seller. Ronnie was surprised when the seller walked up to him and said, “Price, I hope you buy my house.”

Maybe he’d forgotten just how many fans he had in Utah. Or maybe, the seller really wanted to sell his house. Either way, Ronnie’s move doesn’t sound any different than mine, except he might have a vehicle that’s a little more mountain-ready. “I have to be out of my apartment in Sacramento really soon. Fortunately I have family that’s going to drive down there and help me haul things back. It’s tough working on opposite schedules, but we’re getting things in order.”

Okay, so there’s another picture of me in the background. I just want to prove that I really am there, even if I’m just off in a corner.

Speaking of corners and moving, my brother went hunting the other night and came across a couple gators that sent him packing.

Meet Wally (August 14, 2007)


Meet Wally. I didn’t promise to come through with a picture of him, but I sure as heck did.

If you’re wondering who in the samhill Wally is, please revisit my Draft Day Revisited issue of The General’s Summer Break, paragraph two.

I ain’t so sure this is the style for Wally, but I think I can see him with hair. Maybe not Joakim Noah’s, maybe something more David Stern-ish.

Wally turned 92 years young just the other day, the day he had this picture taken. Want to know what the little fellow was doing? He was the number one guy in charge of the elevators at Franklin Covey Field, providing quality guest services to Salt Lake Bees fans. The Bees won that night and so did Wally. I don’t know many folks who make it past 92.

So, I hope Wally sees this. This is a tribute to him.

(Special thanks to a photographer named Brent.)

I Like Walking Tacos (August 8, 2007)


That’s me without my glasses. Typically, I take them off when I’m inside. Ain’t it bad luck, or is that just with umbrellas? Either way, I was on pit lane for the Rocky Mountain Revue, shades resting in my Jeep, and boy, do I have some stories.

Hats off to my friends in catering. I never had a walking taco taste so good. Actually, I never had a walking taco until Friday, July 13, 2007 on the beautiful campus of Salt Lake Community College inside the state-of-the-art Lifetime Activities Center (LAC). That was a mouthful, but go BRUINS! Well, I like walking tacos. They are delicious!

While I was well fed, there was a heck of a lot of action on the floor and in the confines of the west hallway of the impressive LAC. John joined Paul, making RMR history for the Jazz. Morris Almond showed off his pretty shot. I still like him. His parents were decked out from head to toe in Jazz gear. I like them too.

Okay, I’ll stop saying I like people and get to the point. Here are a few moments I won’t forget:

Louis Amundson, former two-week (close enough) Jazzman, spent the Revue playing for Philadelphia. Well, I like him too, but after his game on Tuesday, July 17, there was a truckload of kids behind me yelling at him to throw them his sweatband. A reasonable request, right? Amundson delivered. A kid got his sweatband and what did I get? I got splattered in the face with Louis Amundson’s sweat. Good times.

Al Horford was sporting a t-shirt and, I’m sure, some very expensive shorts, socks, and shoes. Some kid hollered to him, “Al, can I have your shirt?” Al looked down at his shirt and innocently replied, “What am I supposed to wear?” You wear your t-shirt Al. That’s what you wear.

I spotted Candace Parker in a crowd of about 20. She was the one whose knees hit my friend in the head. I don’t like Tennessee. I don’t like that my friend got hit in the head by some knees. I got an autograph. We’re even. (Her boyfriend is Shelden Williams, in case you were wondering why the heck she was at the Revue or even in Utah.)

Kevin Durant made his one game appearance. It was the day before he sealed the deal on his seven-year $60 million contract with Nike. I was there after the game, listening in on his time with Utah’s media. He was wearing a very long plain red t-shirt and very long dark-colored britches. I couldn’t even see the brand of shoes he was wearing. (I liked him though.)

Paul Millsap was wearing white adidas kicks on the final night of the RMR. I had to catch him when he came out of the locker room for an exclusive interview with a local TV station. I did my job that night as good as I’ve ever done. I waited 30 minutes. I said, “Hey Paul, I’ll walk you down to the interview room” or something like that. I’m not sure if he said anything. I reckon sometimes MVP’s are shy. I don’t know. Well, we walked in silence. Maybe he was just nervous about what to talk about. Again.

Draft Day Revisited (August 2, 2007)


I just got told I’ve got to catch up. They ain’t paying me to write stories a month after they happen. What “they” don’t know is that where I come from, folks still commonly declare the 1969 phrase “we landed on the moon” daily, in plum amazement with a hint of uncertainty.

Okay. It was June 28 and I was one of about 2,000 people down in the pits of the EnergySolutions Arena. It only took about two and a half hours for number 25 to roll around. I was pretty much sitting on my thumbs the whole time, except when Wally and I (Wally is one of the arena’s fine guest services personnel) discussed the possibilities of him having hair like Joakim Noah. That might not seem that funny; I reckon you’d have to see Wally though. Maybe I’ll get a snapshot of the little fellow.

So there I was, manning the press room like a cur dog treeing a squirrel, and I got the text message. Twenty seconds before fans and media knew, I had the low down on our first pick. I had to know. I had to run copies of his bio. It was critical. After I did that, I passed them out. Then, I went out and waited for Coach Sloan to make a statement and answer a few questions. He did and I listened. I got it all on my recorder. It’s still there.

I’d say moments, but it was more like an hour later, my esteemed colleagues pulled out the spider phone. It was time to talk to Morris and introduce him to the local media. Morris Almond, that is. The phone had surprisingly clear and concise clarity. I didn’t even get feedback on my recorder. I was in hog heaven. Morris was hyped, as was I. I heard his first words as a Jazzman. I just keep racking up on these special moments.

I could have picked five bushels of peas before number 55 hit the screen. Word was out about a trade so my job was a little different this time. No bios to run. Thank goodness. The copier was having fits.

I pretty much acted like I knew what I was doing and waited on official confirmation of the trade, which never came. June 28 was soon turning to June 29 and it was past my bedtime. I left the arena at 12:01 a.m.

I ain’t complaining. I even got up the next day and went to his official welcoming party at the ZBBC.Did I mention before that I like Morris? I do. Want to know something else? I was the one who gave all the TV cameramen a ten second heads-up before the fellow southerner made his way into the press room. Yep, that was me.

Big Baby (July 30, 2007)


I did it on purpose, but if I pick up where I left off with draft workouts, I reckon I’ll start with Glen “Big Baby” Davis. I admit, LSU is not my favorite. The Fighting Tigers are number two in my book. Go Dawgs! Go Lady Techsters! Free publicity aside, let’s talk “Big Baby.”

Well, the TV didn’t lie. He’s a big ‘un. I stood right next to him at the ZBBC on that Sunday morning. I’d been waiting. I told my moma he was going to be there. She wanted tickets. There I was with another one of them smiles on my face. I couldn’t help it. He took all media availability to catch his breath, but I didn’t care. I was grinning like a possum.

Of course, he took a minor beating about his weight issue. I didn’t think it was very nice. I would have asked him about his nickname, or his favorite player, or maybe if he wanted to be friends. I didn’t say much though. Actually, I didn’t say anything at all. I don’t have a mouth like my sister’s. However, the few minutes that we did share, amidst the cameras, recorders, and media members, were special, to me anyway.

Davis was no doubt the man of the hour. Levon Kendall did dazzle me with his hair, but that just about did it for day five.

Day six…Jared Dudley was one heck of a fast talker. Reyshawn Terry smiled a lot. And that’s all I have to say about that.

Day seven…Having eight players to talk to was tough. I put my game face on before I even walked through the door. Nick Fazekas was first. It was his last workout. He said he made some friends along the way. I told myself not to even ask. I liked Jason Smith. My camera was misfiring. He waited ‘til I got it working and let me take a picture of him. I felt like an idiot.

Day seven cont’d…Coby Karl was not as big as I thought he was. He was nice. I like nice people. I’ve been rooting for him. Marco Belinelli was wearing a sweet outfit, pretty much matched his accent.

Day eight…I had to take a day off. Don’t even ask.

I didn’t miss draft night though. Something to look forward to in a couple days.

Revue in Review (July 25, 2007)


We all know that the Rocky Mountain Revue just wrapped up and Paul Millsap basically owned the show. I was there, I know. But, a few things had to take place before the Revue could get underway.

Jazz management threw together a list of invitees to work out before draft night on June 28. I was tickled pink when I got that list. It, of course, was filled with college players that I’d seen umpteen times on TV this past year. And, of course, it tickled my fancy to find out that another native Louisianan would be trying out for the Jazz. LSU’s Glen “Big Baby” Davis wasn’t scheduled to come until midway through the workouts, so I’ll save him for later.

Day one…Mr. Arron Afflalo was the man in the spotlight, or at least the camera light. He was nice, well-spoken. I’m happy for Detroit. I did feel bad for a few of the other players that day though. So bad that I went up and asked Matt Lojeski how his workout went. He wasn’t very wordy. I didn’t pry.

Day two…The talk of the town was Morris Almond. I wondered why. (P.S. No I didn’t.) He took the media swamping of the day and handled it like a pro. He was impressive and I didn’t even see his workout. I made up my mind that he was the one for me, well, for the Jazz. My heart is taken, remember?

Ohio State’s Daequan Cook was also in the “Almond Workout.” I admit I was a little excited to get to see him too. It didn’t take long for that excitement to wear off.

Day three…Welcome to Utah, big men. Chris Richard, two-time national champion Gator, admitted he was a heavy sweater. I liked him anyway. I was curious to see Herbert Hill, pretty much because Herbert is my brother’s middle name and he hates it. I just wanted to be able to say ‘hey Herb’ without getting the fire knocked out of me.

Day four…I’m not sure who was supposed to be the highlight on this day. I reckon it was Sean Williams, but he was nursing his wounds in the back so no one had a chance to talk to him. Major Wingate was fun to talk to. I liked Kyle Visser’s hair.

Four down, four to go. I’ll keep ‘em coming as long as you read ‘em.