It was a rookie hiatus, she had to get her feet wet. Soaked actually. Put through the ringer, the General is back to tell about it. Season Two begins with Communications Coordinator Hannah “The General” Lee. If you missed the General's Summer Break, check it out here. Otherwise, General-Lee Speaking is a Southern insider's look into the Utah Jazz, from what happens in the office, and phone calls to moma, to mostly what happens on the court and behind the scenes with the Jazz.

Socks, Lemonade and a little Jazz
(February 11, 2009) - I’ve been mad. Spittin’ mad. At Moma. Doesn’t happen often, but once in a blue moon she gets under my skin, and this time, into my socks. I don’t really have a tendency of leaving things behind, although apparently I’m good at it lately. I left a pair of socks at home while I was there for Christmas. Plumb forgot ‘em I guess. That, or Moma maliciously took them. I’m leaning toward the latter.

What’s the fuss all about you ask? Well, this ain’t just a pair of socks. It’s a pair of my faves, NBA socks issued through the Jazz. They must make ‘em with high dollar cotton, from covered fields on the best ground in Louisiana’s Macon Ridge. She says they’ve been keeping her feet warm on those cold hardwood floors and when she wears shoes, it feels like she’s walking on, well, cotton. But real good cotton, like that kind I just talked about. They don’t slip and slide she says. Her feet don’t sweat and the socks are real good for that problem she’s been having with that one foot. Says they’re made just right for old folks.

These socks are not like a box of chocolate. You ALWAYS know what you’re gonna get.

She even had the audacity to ask for more pairs. Didn’t even offer to send me back mine.

I wonder if Paul gives his moma socks. Bet she don’t steal his first though. I might just ask.

Socks down the tube, let me tell you bout this lemonade I had the other day. It was a few days ago, down in Houston, on my first solo trip with the team. That’s right, you heard it. I did everything right except bringing home another loss. It may have had something to do with flying right after one game for three hours, getting to the hotel at 3:30 in the morning, breakfast at 11, game at seven. May not have. I’m not one for excuses.

Back to the lemonade. It was the best I ever tasted in my life, straight from the heart of Houston at Irma’s, a place where they know you by name and treat you like family. I mean, they didn’t know me personally cause it was my first trip, but they knew the fellas I was with. Same thing at that one place where I had the best quesadilla EVER! Take that Moma.

Not too sweet, not too bitter, perfect lemonade via Houston, Texas.

I couldn’t really bottle any up to bring back or I would’ve. Word on the street is D-Will digs it too. We pretty much have the same taste in a lot of things. Lemonade, shoes, sports, probably socks too.

Now that Boozer’s back, the salutes have continued. At least someone’s showing some respect.

Oh yeah, something else that made me mad. Since my usual post at home games is up with the stat crew and ‘Hot Rod,’ I’m usually in the stats mix, keeping up with the numbers as they happen. I’ll admit, I do like to monitor Paul’s numbers, especially when he had the longest double-double streak in the league going in (ended at 19, longest since Kevin Garnett in 2006). I came back up from halftime to see this (see below). Paul already had his double-double. Beardboy (stats guy’s nickname, remember everybody around here has one) knew it. I knew it. RUDE! But maybe a little funny. Stats guy kind of funny.

No matter what, no one can cover up Paul’s production. Cheesy but true.

Just one game this week, L.A. on Wednesday at home and then we get a five day break. Much deserved and very welcomed for the team. I’ll find out where a few of the guys are going and let you know. Maybe the beach, maybe a cruise, maybe just home sweet home. But not me, I’m still mad at Moma.

Traveling With The Team
(January 14, 2009) - It’s 3:04 central time. According to an upcoming Game Time article, Kyle Korver has been asleep for 64 minutes and will be for another 26. Give or take a few.

I, however, have decided to forego the typical NBA nap period today to make note of the first leg of my three-game road trip, first of the season with the team, third overall (not counting training camp). Yes, I’ve just been looking at some stats and yes, I like to keep the occasional stat on myself. What person doesn’t?

The plane left Salt Lake at 2 p.m. yesterday afternoon, but before that, I had a little packing to do. There are a number of essentials besides a toothbrush that are must haves while on the ‘road.’ For example, a Jazz media guide is a hot commodity when you’re used to having 100 of them at your fingertips. See those scorecards on the far right? Those buddies are backups for the great Mr. 3003 “Hot” Rod Hundley. The seating chart there in the back is handy when a player wants to make a ticket purchase, such as D-Will himself earlier this morning.

Must haves for me on the road. P.S. No, that is NOT an ‘I love Jim’ notepad sitting on my desk, to the right of my computer, just above my keyboard with a heart on it. Nope, it ain’t.

So obviously it takes more than my tremendous basketball knowledge, incredible gift of writing, and love of all things Southern to do the job. Obviously.
Well while trying not to forget everything I needed, getting to the airport on time (no, I wasn’t the first, but I sure as heck wasn’t the last one to the aeroplane), and getting the right stats in the right hands before the yummy finger foods were taken away, something bad went down. Something real bad.

I didn’t know it until I’d settled in, took a quick nap, read a little from my new favorite author Rick Bragg, landed in beautiful OKC to the “No snow, no cold” rejoices of Ron Boone, boarded the bus to the hotel, checked out my fancy room, and met the group in the lobby for supper. Then I hear what sounded like “General, did you bring luggage on this trip?” I’m the only woman (I say it with pride dadgomit) on this trip. You don’t mess with a woman and her bags. But there was no messin’. My bags didn’t make it aboard the hopper.

I realize I’m dragging this out, but when all you’ve got are the clothes on your back, a few dollars in your pocket, a Colgate toothbrush and toothpaste from the front desk, and nothing but a prayer in your heart for your bags to magically appear, a woman gets a little flustered. Worried. Concerned. Feeling up the creek without a paddle, downwind from a paper mill if you will.

It was pretty much me and my Colgate on the first night of the trip. At least I didn’t have bad breath. But seriously, who uses Colgate? Personally, I’m a Crest kind of gal.

Apparently I have a history with luggage issues (i.e. 2008 Training Camp). I’d like to not have those anymore. There’s no room for error on trips like these. None a’tall.

And there hardly were any. Bigs ups, thanks a mil, I owe ya big time, you saved my life Derek, Briggsy and a few solid FedEx workers. I got a 7:15 wakeup call this morning saying my bags had arrived. Now I can breathe. It was close to cowboy boots and a leather vest, or camouflage outerwear courtesy of the family’s favorite Bass Pro Shop for my game night attire. Please, enjoy a sigh of relief with me. And, coincidentally my bags went through Memphis (which is game two of three this trip) before coming to Oklahoma City. That airport sees the most cargo in and out than any other airport in the world, including my two big orange bags.

Crisis averted, now attention can be turned to the fun stuff. It was out to dinner with the coaching staff, TV crew, etc. for a celebration of “Hot Rod” Hundley and his 3,000 plus games called. Across the table and a seat to the right and I sat there and soaked it all in. I was having supper with one of the greatest coaches in the game and one of the best broadcasters in the business. Pinch me would ya!

I also shook hands with Thunder Head Coach Scott Brooks. He was a player in Cleveland when the Jazz’s head trainer Gary Briggs was in that same role for the Cavs. My supper was superb. Congrats “Hots”. You da man!

Shootaround at the Ford Center began at 10 a.m. Wednesday morning. Coach Sloan said it was a nice arena. It really was.

A few interviews later, and it was back to the hotel and a search for lunch. Earl’s Rib Palace proved quite tasty even though I walked right past the Sonic Headquarters of the entire universe without going in or enjoying happy hour. I hope Moma ain’t too disappointed. Jonathan and I also took a stroll down to the Oklahoma City Memorial on an extended lunch break. A recommended must see.

One of Oklahoma City’s most beautiful landmarks. America’s favorite drive-in and mine too.

A few emails, calls and whatnot later, I was on the bus headin’ to the show. Little did I know I was about to meet Marvin Mack, an apparent legend in Oklahoma basketball (boys and girls). The 35-year sideline vet was our locker room security guard for the night and was soon my friend. He had some great stories about Ronnie Brewer’s uncle and even told me how good Ronnie’s sisters are. A man once of the NAIA coaching ranks, he told me how he took his team on a holiday trip through Louisiana, playing any and every college team he could. He knows where Bienville is and I know about the first time he ever had red beans and rice. Did I mention people in OKC are really nice? Well, they are.

Don’t think all I did was talk to Coach Mack. There’s just a time when I have to be near the locker room with media in and out to ensure everyone gets taken care of. Memo and Coach Johnson did pregame interviews with FSN Utah and we had some last minute ticket buys to handle.

One thing fans may not know about is pregame chapel. Each team is in charge of providing a staff person to oversee 10 minutes or so of chapel services before tipoff, which is (of course) voluntary for the players to attend. Services in OKC were just a few doors down from our locker room. I saw a few players from both teams heading in and, all of a sudden, running down the hall to get to chapel is Jeff Green. Coach Mack says, “Ataway son, you’re a runnin’ for Jesus!” Jeff and I looked at each other and chuckled. (Credit to chapel or not, but Green had 23 points and 8 rebounds and his team won.)

That’s Lt. A. Bull (no foolin’, you can see his name on his shirt) and Coach Mack with me in the middle. Ford Center security at its best.

Sitting in the second row next our beat writers Tim Buckley and Ross Siler, the game wasn’t exactly no. 1 on the pop charts, but I had a job to do, and deep down I was cheering as much as I could. Didn’t work. Obviously. Neither did my fingers very well. In tracking turnovers for the coaching staff, timeouts and quarter breaks came signal time. This many for us, this many for them. The staff probably thought I was from the southside of the westside, crossing my fingers as I said peace. A little tongue twisted you might say.

Postgame was rather quiet. Even a little somber. Hats off to the Thunder (even though I just can’t get used to that name). A rush to grab stats before I’m the last person on the bus and I’m back at the hotel. I didn’t even get to say goodbye to Coach Mack. I’m sure he understands.
I did have cousins in the Sooner State. Mamaw’s oldest sister’s daughter Brenda, Moma’s first cousin, and her husband and son came to the game. I did say goodbye to them. I was glad they came.

A good night’s rest and it’s a new day. Let bygones be bygones and let’s go to Memphis and open up a can.

(January 15, 2009) - Today is an off day, no game, no practice since we have three games in four days.

I’m on the plane right now, enjoying some Cheetos (diet’s taking a downward turn for one flight). We’ll get to the fancy hotel at roughly 3:30 central time. Hold on to your hats, cause Moma’s coming to the Home of the Blues folks. And she loves Elvis, or ‘Ebis’ as she’s known to say. But she’s got her True Blue Jazz shirt and she is ready to rumble.

But before I get there, I’ll give you the lowdown on the actual travel with the team. All the players, coaching staff, TV and radio broadcasters, TV crew and PR staff ride together on a chartered plane from city to city, with lots of bus rides in between. The players sit in the front of the plane, the coaches in the back and the rest of the staff, including me, sits in the middle. It’s pretty much the opposite on the bus. There are also times to be quiet and times to talk. That was probably one of the first ‘rules’ I learned. It’s all about respect and Moma taught me well.

There’s food galore on the plane. Not the best news for me always, but for guys that are burning thousands of calories during a game, it’s a necessity. I haven’t had any fried chicken yet, but I’m dealing with it.

I stopped in to see the ducks at The Peabody before calling it a night.

(January 16, 2009) - It’s just a hop, skip and a jump to the FedEx Forum from the hotel in Memphis, but we take the bus anyway to shootaround Friday morning. The Grizzlies have a really nice practice facility in their arena that they so graciously let us use. Nonetheless I needed a GPS to find my way back to the bus from it. No media came, so it was basically a time for injury updates and to check on player ticket buys.
Coach Sloan did ask the team’s massage therapist if he could find the arrow in the FedEx logo. He found it. And I found the bus

A great start to a freezin’ cold day in Memphis. The arena sign said -6 degrees. Now I know what it’s like to be colder than a welldigger’s hind end in Idaho. I always wondered what Papaw meant when he said that.

Moma was waiting back at the hotel and we were off in search of some fine bbq, Memphis style. One Charles Vergo’s Rendezvous brisket sandwich with extra sauce, another look at the freezing temperature sign and it was back to the room for a stroll through emails and another review of our game night procedures. For someone who doesn’t travel everyday, there’s a lot to learn. Just because you get in the school doesn’t mean they invite you to the dance.

One of the keys to survival on the road is being early. Punctuality translates into people liking you and I like to be liked. I don’t like to be late and Moma don’t like ugly.

At the arena, I met Johnny our security guard. I met him once before, last season. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t remember it. I never forgot it. He helped me get settled in and worked with me on opening and closing the locker room for media, while also telling stories and having a good time with his fellow guards. Johnny was a multitasker. That proved true when the Sugarhill Gang, the halftime entertainment, got loud and proud and Johnny got the itchin’ to dance. As did “Hot Rod.” It was a sight for sore eyes and I loved every minute of it. Fun, I do like to have.

Johnny is one of the FedEx Forum’s best and not just because he agreed to take a picture with me.

Here’s Coach Sloan doing his pregame interview with “Hot” Rod in Memphis.

Aside from the dance concert, we won the game. I was able to get both players for the TV and radio interview and was feelin’ pretty good. The stats were a little slow coming to the locker room, but there were copier problems. I can relate, so I don’t get upset, just real antsy. I had to say bye to Moma before I was the last one on the bus. Moma cried. I wasn’t last.

It was time to leave, just a little turning back, just for Moma.

(January 17, 2009) -A late night arrival on day five of the trip had me wonderin’ where the heck I was. A couple hours of sleep later and I was still wonderin’. I looked outside and there sat Dallas.

Since we were on a back-to-back game, we didn’t have shootaround Saturday morning, just a team breakfast meeting at the fancy hotel. Jonathan and I helped get the coaching staff their requested stats and I lingered around to check on ticket buys. The Big D is home to quite a few of the players and just a few hours up the road from my roots. We had a lot of tickets to deal with, I felt like half the arena was gonna be on our side.

My sister came to her first NBA game. My high school coach came to her second. My sister is loud, my coach is loud. I heard a couple folks that were on our side.

Dallas had a great security guard in Jason Feller and he had a great last name. He knew my name. We hit it off. The Mavs’ PR staff was great as well. Power to the women in the NBA PR workforce, Dallas has two of them and rightly so.

The AAC’s Jason Feller, a real good, um, feller.

The game was great, and I made another friend sittin’ on the scorer’s table. Depending on the arena, but quite often the opposing team’s PR seat is at the end of the scorer’s table conveniently located next to fan seating. I had a front row seat, did better with my fingers and turnover tracking, and John Doe became my friend. He was short a thumb and nice. Not like the screaming kids in Memphis who drove me absolutely crazy.

It was a close one almost all the way to the end. Paul made his first appearance since going out three games ago. I ain’t sure how he even walked in those knee braces. They would’ve slowed me down like a speed bump. I met a couple that drove from Choudrant to see him play. They were decked out in La Tech gear. It was pretty.

Postgame after a loss is a downer. But Mr. Feller (I giggle) and I manned the locker room like pros. I must have blinked twice and we had our stats. Coach told the guys to stay together and keep their heads up.

I hate goodbyes, but I had to say it. I told them on the court. I told them just like Deron, C.J., Paul, and both Ronnie’s did. I just got back to the bus sooner.

Driving by a Popeye’s on our way to the airport, I could hear Brewer in the back singing ‘Love that chicken from Popeye’s.’ Me too, RB, me too.

(January 18, 2009) -Technically it was Sunday morning when we got back to Salt Lake. Roughly 1:30, maybe even 2 a.m. I was out of it, trying to situate my contact lenses. While deboarding, I walked by Brewer, Millsap, Price and Korver. Still sitting down. Still playing cards. Still having fun.
I was going home to have my fun elsewhere, away from really tall people. I’d see them again in a day or two anyway.

HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS
(January 5, 2009) - There’s nothing like going home. Some of us don’t get to do it much, but I’ll tell you one thing, when I get back to my giant cowboy greetin’, no stop light, school hangin’ on by a thread, everybody knows everybody hometown, I have a ball. I’m a stickler for my roots and I always learn something new every time I go back. It’s a rediscovery of sorts, in a world that never changes, but it does.

He welcomes passerbyers through Bienville all day every day.

Mamaw’s been sidelined with the pneumonia, Papaw’s finally on the right medicine so he sleeps like a baby all night long now. 59 years hitched and it’s starting to show. Moma’s prowess in the kitchen helped me put back on those few pounds I did lose so I could eat her fried chicken and gravy, chicken dressing, banana pudding, and icebox fruitcake, among a slew of other things. My Aunt Ev and Uncle Jim took me out to their farm, showed me where they’re going to build a house in the same place where my Granny (Mamaw’s moma) raised my mamaw and her brothers and sisters for a while in the 1940s, sharecropping on borrowed land.

This banana pudding will make you want to slap yo’ moma.

I saw Con’s new bulldog and she’s a big’un. My cousin Mike was telling me that it snowed in Louisiana the other day and then he changed the channel. His new baby sure is a gem. I had a sleepover with my niece Kaitlyn and her little sister. Kaitlyn was born on November 19, 1999, the same night I broke my nose in a basketball game that we were well on our way to winning, but an elbow literally crushed our chances.

My sister’s three-year-old daughter is the spitting image of her daddy. She used to only talk to me on the phone if her moma told her it was Hannah Montana calling. That sure took some creativity on my part. We’re friends now though; at least I think we are.

Well in the words of Papaw, “one monkey don’t stop the show.” I’m back now, the ice cold snow replacing a 76 degree Louisiana Christmas day. Daily phone calls to Moma will resume. I’ll still get the goods. Life off, game on and Happy New Year.

So, while I was gone some things, if only a few, did get done. Personally, I was able to track down college and high school photos of Mr. Kyle ‘Long Socks” Korver. Making the connection to Pella natives as a Willie P graduate no doubt hurried along the process. Keep an eye open for those treasures in an upcoming issue of GameTime.

Hallelujah, we’ve got stairs on the platforms! I saw ‘em with my own eyes and they are as pretty as a magnolia on the first day of spring. Media members now have even better access to their seats in proximity to the press room and locker rooms. Hot diggity!

A fan, a man named Brian Kingdon, apparently saved Paul Millsap’s life while I was out. Maybe not his life, but his hefty double-double streak that currently leads the NBA was brought back to life. The on-top-of-it Jazz fan alerted authorities of a statistical error and by golly he was right. Bigs up BK, you da man!

Thumbs up Brian Kingdon!

I remember something similar happening to me in high school. I was basically on fuego the entire game, you know, really feeling it. I ended up dropping 44 that night, my career-high, but didn’t know it until a good time later from the opposing team’s scorekeeper. Thanks Coach!
That actually wasn’t similar at all, was it?

pre-CHRISTMAS ROAD TRIPS
(December 21, 2008) - I hit the road today. The road to sweet home Bienville via Continental Airlines barring the unexpected. Moma’s gonna be waiting up way past her bedtime to see that I get home safe. I can’t let her down. And I won’t.

But before I head to the house, I’ve got a few things to say. Road trips aren’t all that bad. I happen to like them. Like the last time I took one home. If you’ve never ridden in a vehicle for a solid 24 hours, I don’t recommend it. Good times were had, no doubt about that, but when you’ve had enough BBQ sunflower seeds to sprout the whole state of Kansas, it’s time to pull over. Tour a cathedral or something. Or maybe, write back and forth on notepads to this car of guys who rip on us for having Utah license plates, yet their’s reads Montana. Hey, if it adds adventure, sign me up.

D-Will and the General believe. Do you?

That’s a little like this annual pre-Christmas road trip the Jazz are on. One more game to go, one more night in a hotel, one more night away from the family before Santa comes. Maybe I can’t speak for them all, although I can vouch for one PR guy. He just wants to come home. Home for the holidays.

Don’t get me wrong, we’ve seen some exciting things from the guys on this road trip. That huge 22-point comeback win in Jersey, the defeat of the Pistons in double OT. But there has been the excessive sunflower seed eating as well. Tough losses in Chicago and Boston. A win in Milwaukee might just light up the cathedral of the road trip blues.

So, while we await the team’s return home, which will surely be safe, on time and to some good home cookin’ (if not, I’m sure Moma will send me back with some), enjoy the holiday season and know that road trips don’t last forever. The team will soon be back in the confines of the ESA, doing what they do best. As will I when I get home

D-Will and the General believe. Do you?

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HANNAH, WHEN YOU GONNA DO ANOTHER BLOG?
(December 18, 2008) - If I’ve heard it once, I’ve heard it a thousand times. “Han, when you gonna do another blog?” Sometimes Momas just don’t understand. Since my last post, I’ve had some turkey, took a sick day for a wicked cold, spent a week in Vegas with baseballers from all across the country, got a shout out from a Jazzbotter, went on hospital visits with Jazz players and coaches, and am now holding down the fort this week while Derek’s on the road with the team and Jonathan’s out on vacation.

As part of my gig with the Salt Lake Bees (the best Triple-A baseball club this side of the Mississippi), I travel each year with a handful of my co-workers to the Winter Meetings. But there was no National Finals Rodeo for me. We seminar and meet it up ‘til we are blue in the face and, in the tradition of minor league baseball, we ‘share’ ideas.

It may not have been at the big show, but my Uncle Sonny is a champion in someone’s eyes.

Well, the most memorable sharing that went on was in Caesar’s Palace on the night of December 9.

Me and the gang were scouting out places to eat in The Forum Shops and stumbled upon an early Christmas present at Il Mulino. Call them golf buddies, associates or just plain friends, but I was happier than a deer eating corn when the owner of the restaurant (also owner of another Triple-A team) invited us in to be his guests. Pun pretty much intended here: I was well out of my league. Couldn’t read a thing on the menu and neither could someone else at my table. Having an Italian last name, he just needed some reading glasses to help me out on the menu. And what do you know, Pasquale the Waiter reaches into his coat pocket and, in his deep Sicilian accent says, ‘I have men’s and women’s. Let me clean these for you.”

I liked to have fell out of my chair. Nevermind the napkin service, deliciously fresh parmesan cheese, and the best and only sea bass I’ve ever eaten. Nevermind the fact that I was doing my fine dining a table over from Jerry Reinsdorf (Chicago Bulls and White Sox owner) and two tables down from the one and only Nolan Ryan. Throw that mess out the window. Our waiter (I don’t even know if that’s the right technical term) had reading glasses. I’m so going to tell my grandkids about that one.

I’ll be honest, I don’t know if anything else in this entry will beat what I just wrote. But I’ll try. Boozer might just be the guy to do it.

During the Jazz’s annual visit to Primary Children’s Hospital, I was grouped with Carlos Boozer, Brevin Knight and Matt Harpring. Doing my darndest to keep dry eyes, we went from room to room and visited nearly 30 kids that day. I mean, mostly I stood in the hallway, coordinated a few interviews, and practically got saluted by Boozer every time he came out of a room. I’ve got proof now. People just can’t make that stuff up.

One of Boozer’s many salutes to the General at Primary Children’s Hospital.

The visit was great though. The players are really good with kids and it’s great to see a little happiness in a place that can be a little drab. Moma always said, “Whoever is happy, will make you happy too.” Moma, Mark Twain, same difference, but it’s true. It is.

Now, to my shout out. Better late than never. Thanks a mil Annie Whitaker! She showed a little love for me and what our department does in one of her recent posts on Jazzbots. She pretty much hit the nail on the head.

So with Derek in Detroit today and Jonathan taking a break in San Francisco, this week has been a week of tying up a bunch of lose ends before I head home for the holidays.

Oh yeah, remember when the Jazz made that 22-point comeback against the Nets in New Jersey the other night?

I do. Sometimes we have 7-point first quarters in our lives. But if we make 96 more points to finish the game, we can most likely overcome anything. Just something Moma really would say.

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THANKSGIVING LETTERS
(November 25, 2008) - I’ve been busy and all but I did find time to write a few Thanksgiving cards to the ol’ fam back home. I even made them myself. Hey, a chalked pumpkin adds to the sincerity of a message. Just ask Moma. She’ll think it’s cute.

As I was writing and after my hands were chalk-free, it made me think about all the fan mail that our department receives on behalf of the team. As I’m sure is imagined, we get all kinds of things, from photos to sign, to letters expressing deep love for the Jazz, to letters asking for memorabilia, to letters to players who aren’t on the team anymore (or alive), to letters with full blown fictional stories about the team (those are followed by sequel, after sequel, after sequel…)

Sometimes they’re fun to read, sometimes not so much. I picked out a few excerpts of some recent deliveries. No, I’m not poking fun, just sharing in the Jazz fan love.

But before you start reading those, here’s a holler for a Happy Thanksgiving. Whether it’s a holiday away from home (like me) or a holiday where family comes to you (like Deron) or a holiday where you go downstairs and everyone’s there (like Utah), I hope it’s a great one. My celebration began early, with the team’s annual Thanksgiving dinner for the homeless at the ESA on Tuesday. A great opportunity to be hospitable and giving to those less fortunate, I know it made Moma proud. She always says, “Han, remember where you came from.” Oh, I remember. Letters like this don’t let me forget.

My niece Kaitlyn keeps me filled in on what’s happening at her house in Castor

We’ve all got our dreams, we just hope they come true.

Some things are just more important.

It’s okay, maybe this person didn’t see the news. In 1988.

Mandy Harpring and I became friends at the Thanksgiving dinner. At least for a little while. She was popular with the media and dang good dishing gravy and cranberry sauce.

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1,000 WINS
(November 14, 2008) - Jaywalkin’ Jonathan got his $70 ticket lowered to $40. I’m not sure what his plan was when he went to the courthouse but it worked like a charm. Just in time for his East Coast road trip, little extra cash for a porterhouse or maybe a souvenir from our nation’s capital.

Last week was a big week in Jazz Town. We all got to witness history when Coach Sloan won his 1,000th game as head coach of the Jazz. It was pretty incredible. I got dibbs on that never happening again. Kind of like when Mamaw killed a chicken snake on the back porch with a garden hoe. It was pretty incredible. And it ain’t ever happened again.

Postgame radio interview on the court, AK, Ben Bagley and the General.)

Before that, Beesman Matt Brown came back to town on Wednesday for the Olympic Appreciation Night with the Jazz and Salt Lake Bees. He and I are like a professional athlete and a PR person. He’s a good feller, as Moma would say. Dang right. Good enough to be an All-Star, an All-Star Game MVP, a All-PCL team member, a member of the 2008 USA Baseball team that won bronze in the Beijing Olympics, and to be a September call-up for the 100-win Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim. That’s probably shout out enough.

Matt Brown, meet DWill. DWill, meet Matt Brown.)

The Olympic auction and Kyle Korver’s Coat Drive was a success. Here’s a holler out to all those who contributed. HOLLER! It was a garbage bag full of new coats zoo in our office earlier this week. We brought in 810 coats and at least 60 garbage bags. Kyle’s going to deliver those next week. He’s gonna need a couple U-Haul’s.

Let’s see what else…I had to go to the ZBBC on the west side of the SLC and have our photographer get some snapshots of the innards of the facility. It’s one of the best practice places in all of the NBA. You can learn more about it in an upcoming issue of GameTime and maybe on utahjazz.com if you’re lucky.

The lights were out in the ZBBC. It must have been NBA naptime.)

Moma got some print time last week too. She shared her rhubarb cake recipe at her monthly literary club meeting and it made it all the way to the Shreveport Times. Personally, I’m not a fan of rhubarb, but I hear the cake is just to die for.

It ain’t just me and Moma getting’ the love though. Moma’s baby sister, I call her ‘Con,’ is a huge fan of Teddy Allen. Who’s Teddy Allen? He’s just the guy that dubbed Karl Malone the “Mailman.” He has his own column in the Shreveport Times. Con lost her dog of 14 years about a year ago, just about the time that Teddy wrote an entry about the death of his own dog. Okay, the sadness ends here. Con wrote a letter to Teddy and he posted it. Con came up with the name of my blog. I posted it. She’s got skills.

R.I.P Maggie.

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BIENVILLE BOOGIE
(November 3, 2008) - It’s Moma’s birthday today and on my drive in she shared with me something I had never heard before in my entire life. I don’t even remember what brought this up, but words to be remembered is what they are.

The “Bienville Boogie” goes like so:

Step on the starter
Step on the gas
Move on over
The Bobcats gonna pass

We got the Bienville Boogie
Yea, Oh man
The Bienville Boogie
Boogie woogie all the time

Now I know why the Bienville Bobcats were a force to be reckoned with in the 1950s and 60s.They had the best ‘fight song’ in the ARK-LA-TEX and Moma on the team (in the late 60s that is). Who dat talkin’ about beatin’ them Bobcats? Who dat?

Oh, now I remember. She was talking about Collin Raye, saying that she liked his new Jazz theme song. Collin Raye ain’t got nothing on the Bienville Boogie.

Happy Birthday Moma! Now, it’s time to get caught up on opening week.

In the pregame dress rehearsal last week, I got a little shell shocked when the fireworks went off, jumped out of my seat and dropped my phone down the bleachers. Not real sure why I didn’t see it coming, but Jody Genessy from the Deseret News quickly (and boldly I might add) replied, “Not a lot of field action, General?”

I didn’t mention that one Civil War reenactment I was in. But, it was good timing and I even laughed. Kind of had to though, everyone else around me was and I already looked like a fool.

Same day, Jonathan’s blackberry went down (which is a real emergency in this business). The sucker wouldn’t take a charge so he trucked it across the street to the Verizon Wireless store, came back with a brand spanking new one, but had to go back to get info off his old one. That’s when the cop on a motorbike rode in, cut off Jonathan and slapped him on the back with a jaywalking ticket. Again, tickle me pink and call me Rosy! We couldn’t find Gephardt’s number but Jonathan did manage to get the fine lowered. The reason: he’s a first time offender. Probably a last time offender too.

Jonathan wasn’t jaywalking here. Just getting some postgame interview requests. Those are free.

We unveiled the Game Night Staff banner in our press room office on opening night. That’s the MVP on the left. It just doesn’t take much for some people.

It was the unveiling of the Game Night Staff Awards for 2007-08. The banner hangs high in the press room.

Opening night itself was a little bit of a blur, but we made that game our own. Got the W.

Halloween literally creeped up on us and we were all in a tizzy trying to find a costume. I know, I know, my costume was lame. It was down to Dora the Explorer or nothing. So I was the moron that no one knew who I was, but I did win a micro-component system or other that I wouldn’t have if I hadn’t dressed up. So booyah band boy and Robert Whaley!

The company treated us well, good eats, family entertainment, but I could have done without the creepy ragamuffins in my face when I walked in.

The entire department at Halloween 2008.

Yeah, they were a little close for comfort.

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FRESH STARTS; LIFE OFF GAME ON
(October 27, 2008) - When the team went East to Colorado and Illinois, I went West. The beautiful beaches of sunny Southern California. The surprisingly short lines at Disneyland and the really long line at Pink’s. The grand tour of Angel Stadium.

The party’s over now though, no more preseason hoopla for me. But it sure was picturesque. Moma couldn’t make the trip. She was knee deep in book festivals and house warmings and cooking and planning the family reunion. What a shame.

Some beach in San Diego and yes, The General wears her sunglasses at night.

So with the vacation behind me, it’s all about preppin’ for the regular season opener. Kind of like Moma is gettin’ ready for the family reunion. It’s everyone on her daddy’s side. They’re a rowdy bunch, but some of my Moma’s favorite cousins will be there. Frog, Moose, Farty Marty and the list goes on. I really hate I’m going to miss it.

The refresher course for Season Two starts with our department’s two interns. No free tators for these out-of-staters. It’s been a barrel of a million things at once.

First, it’s learning the roadways from their new home to the ESA and ZBBC and in between.

Second, my name is “General.” Or is that first?

Third, here’s the intern manifesto. Read it. Memorize it. Don’t lose it.

Fourth, no seriously, my name is “General.”

Fifth, let’s do the dang thing.

And that’s where we are now. TB and Faith (names changed to protect the innocent, but mostly because the only person around here without a nickname is the nicknamer Derek) have helped us get a head start on “GameTime,” our game program that will feature the detailed goods on this year’s team. They’ve both endured the goings-on of a home game night and neither one has yet to jam up one of the 50 copy machines in the building. Things are looking up.

I even brought a little more life to my closet. The NBA Dress Code ain’t just for players. Or is it playas?

The rust has shaken free. It’s “Life Off Game On” people.

While the General was gone, the team in Assembly Hall.

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I BET YOU WISH YOU HAD YOUR OWN BOBBLEHEAD
(October 14, 2008) - I was riding down the road the other day and the inevitable happened. I came upon a car with a slew of bobbleheads sitting in the rear window. There were a few cats, some dogs, I may have even seen a donkey. It was precious. So precious it made me want one. One, not 50, and of a person, not a puppy.

Then I heard a story. A story from Derek, told to him by the Jazz’s massage therapist. A story that I’m about to tell. It’s a hoot.

He’s been called Scranton’s favorite son and “The Mayor of Scranton.” Scranton, Pa. is Gerry McNamara’s hometown. They love him there. So much that, in 2006, the year Gerry graduated from Syracuse with a NCAA Championship ring on his finger, his hometown minor league baseball team honored him with his very own bobblehead. Yep, the then-Scranton Red Barons, Triple-A affiliate of the Philadelphia Phillies, gave the first 6,000 fans through the gates at PNC Field on August 16, 2006 a Gerry McNamara bobblehead doll.

Gerry admits it. “It’s pretty cool to have a bobblehead of yourself. Especially because I love Syracuse, I loved playing there, and obviously I love my hometown.” I love my hometown too Gerry, but Bienville doesn’t even have a high school baseball team. Moma really was mayor once. She got the roads paved. I ain’t seen any bobbleheads show up on her front porch.

The story doesn’t end there though. Gerry’s hometown is also hometown to a popular television show.

“One of my brother’s good friends works at the Scranton Times and he runs a lot of promotions stuff for “The Office.” When I was overseas last year playing basketball, he contacted me through my brother and asked if they could put my bobblehead on the show. I said absolutely. Why not?”

His bobblehead isn’t just in the show. It’s on Dwight Schrute’s desk. Tickle me pink and call me Rosie.

He’s got an attic full of bobbleheads at home in Scranton, but Gerry’s never seen the show.

“I don’t even watch it, but I’m waiting to get all the DVDs. My brother loves it. Most of my family loves it. It is pretty funny to see that my bobblehead is on such a big name show.”

I can see it now. A Gerry McNamara bobblehead in my rear window. More like on my desk. Next to Dwight’s.

Gerry McNamara bobblehead.	See him. Right above Dwight’s nameplate and to the left of Dwight’s bobblehead of himself.

(Photo credits: milb.com & blog.syracuse.com)

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PRESEASON 2008
(October 9, 2008) - Coach Sloan strapped in for his 21st season as head coach of the Jazz last night. General Manager Kevin O’Connor hunkered down to start his 10th year as the brains and reigns of the organization. But combined, the two ain’t got nothing on “Hot Rod.” Well, in terms of years that is. Years with the Jazz. In the same position.

“Hot Rod” Hundley’s famous “…and the cowhide globe hits home” rang again to begin his 35th season in the headsets last night. I wasn’t listening to him, but I know someone who was. Eighteen year professional sports radio engineering vet Tony Noto heard him. He had to. He had buttons to push and volume to control.

Mr. Noto, seen here with “Hots,” got his start in the radio business the year “Hot Rod” retired from playing professional basketball. It was 1963. The year Patsy Cline died in a plane crash. The year Buddy Rogers became the first WWWF Champion. The year zip codes were introduced in the U.S. The year John F. Kennedy was assassinated.

No they’re not brothers. Tony Noto and “Hot Rod” Hundley were coworkers at the Honda Center in Anaheim during the Jazz’s preseason opener Tuesday night.

Moma was in sixth grade at Southside Elementary in Jonesboro-Hodge. It was the year of her first boyfriend. Wiley Dickels. He was short and had freckles. She had cat-eyed glasses. He bought her a turtle at the zoo in Monroe. She took it home. It died.

No turtles were involved that I know of, but it was a busy year for Rod and Tony. A lot of excitement, good and bad, going on in the world. The beginning of a new era. “Hots” would hit the road to the Phoenix Suns, then the L.A. Lakers, until he found his way to New Orleans and has been with the Jazz ever since. Tony has seen it all, the NBA, the NHL, the AFL, the WNBA and MLB.

Forty five years later, those two are still at it. Nowadays, they’re the ones living the dream. Tony sits in the good seats at Lakers games. Front row, right next to the $2500 thrones. Rod does the same on any given night in the NBA. Two peas in a pod.

The photo speaks volumes. Haha. Get it?

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TRAINING CAMP 2008
(October 3, 2008) - I’m over it. The whooping Boise State gave La. Tech. You win some, you lose some. This week I won.

I traveled to Idaho and stayed in a hotel where I heard the home sickening sounds of southern accents. No, it wasn’t a refrigeration conference like last year, this year it was the La. Tech football team and its loyal followers. It was like soaking in rays of moma’s fried chicken and gravy for four and half days. Hhhhhhmmmmm…GOOD.

I grubbed with the Jazz’s finest beat writers, all three of them. I heard stories from umpteen years ago about some football player’s daddy, who was the cousin of his mother’s fiancé’s cousin’s sister who was one heck of a ballplayer herself. Just messin’.

General on the blue turf at Boise State University.

As seen in the photos, I made my way onto the Bronco’s blue turf. Not real sure what I was doing with my hands, I reckon I was just happy to be there (and in a hurry, since we weren’t really suppose to be there). A big “Holler!” to my boy Mr. Security Guard. Captured with me on the Smurf Turf are my mentors, Derek and Jonathan. We go together like peas and carrots.

Back to the basketball side of things, my first training camp was like a training camp to me, except, of course the fact that I didn’t have to physically exert myself, sweat profusely and desperately plead for oxygen. But I’ve never had to do that. Just that oxygen thing once in Colorado. I definitely blame it on the elevation. Thanks Coach!

I have my favorites from camp and am definitely excited for the season to start. It’ll be fun to watch how things play out. Heading into the preseason without any major injuries, besides McNamara’s whiplash, Knight’s strained back, and a little sea-sickness from K. Lyde, is a plus. Kosta is a hard workin’ rookie. Price can still jump out of the gym and is quicker than a duck on a junebug. It might be “The Year of C.J.” and it might not. I’d go on, but I’m tired. The ‘NBA nap’ didn’t exist this week.

I almost forgot, I found my luggage, my cell phone and got my room key card operating. I ran into Deron in the hallway of the hotel. He said “hey.”

Oh yeah, and Booz got my name right all week.

Derek, Jonathan, and the General.

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TRAINING CAMP 2008
(October 2, 2008) - I’ve never been to training camp of any kind. It was nothing but chunking hay bales and watermelons in the 100+ degree Louisiana heat during my summers growing up. On that first day in Boise, I was sure as heck glad that I was on the sidelines at Taco Bell Arena for the week. I was happy as a hoot-owl too that I found my luggage Monday night, but that’s another story.

Two-a-day practices, two hours each, run by Coach Sloan. All I could say was I hope they ate their grits. I didn’t, but those protein bars came in real handy. Not sure what I would have done without them.

Day 1 was a day of acclimation. From the layout of the maze of a hotel, to the directions to BSU, to how hard it is not to watch every minute of a practice coached by a Hall of Famer. I dug deep and remembered his words. “Don’t show anyone you’re tired.”

Coach Sloan dropped some funnies during the practices that I have to keep to myself and assistant coach Tyrone Corbin had one of his own. He asked to borrow my pen and it happened to be a pen from my daddy’s feed and supply store. So he proceeds to ask, “What do you feed?”
(Circle L Feed & Supply located just south of downtown Bienville, La, “Circle L, we deliver!”)

Korver and I hammed it up for a good two minutes (the recorder said 1:49, but two sounded better) while he was lacing up his new Converse on Day 2. He liked my Jazz jacket. I told him thanks. I asked him if he ever ran the rolling hills of Iowa to get in shape for basketball season. He didn’t. But, I had to. The coaches at Willie P didn’t play around. He knows Willie P too, we were rivals with his parents’ alma mater. (Willie P, a.k.a. William Penn University, in Iowa is my alma mater.)

A football game at Taco Bell Arena quarterbacked by none other than Jeff Hornacek

Well, Kyle says this, “I used to just shoot all the time. I’ve always prided myself in working hard, but I don’t think I worked very smart. That’s where the stuff this summer really came in to play. I was working hard and smart. It felt good. I used to run, dribble the ball with my left hand, basics like that, but nothing very productive when I look back at it now. I used to shoot all the time, in the backyard, the gym, anywhere there was a hoop, I was shooting.”

His working hard and smart this summer was a result of a visit to Santa Barbara and Marcus Elliott’s Peak Performance Project. “The Jazz recommended it, I went down there and it was just a different way to train that I’ve never done before. It was very technical. He’s measuring how much power you have coming off each leg, using video so you can watch yourself make your turn, make your jump, make your lift. That was definitely good for me. And for just the last few weeks, pretty much every single guy was back in town in Utah, just playing pickup games in the morning, shooting, and working out.”

I also did my best to ham it up with Kosta too. It was tough, but here’s what I got.

The General: Are you sore at all?
Kosta Koufos: No ma’am.
The General: How do you feel your first day in training camp went?
Kosta Koufos: It went well. Learned a lot.
The General: How do you feel like the rest of the week is going to go?
Kosta Koufos: Pretty solid. I’m just here to work hard.
The General: Do you feel like you’re in pretty good shape coming in?
Kosta Koufos: Oh yeah, pretty good.

Sounds a lot like my first interview with someone else on the team. I’ll try harder next time.

I met Coach Sloan’s childhood friend and it came out that we share the same last name. (Part of the issue with my unfound luggage). He got a kick out of that and apparently we’re friends for the long haul. He says we share the same nickname. No way!

Meanwhile, before the players arrived at the arena for another morning practice, I found this. The team attendants and assistant trainer/equipment manager Brian Zettler had a pickup game of their own going on with Jazz legend Jeff Hornacek. Yeah, he was there to work on shooting techniques with the players, but the Broncos just had the leave the football laying around.

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MEDIA DAY 2008
(October 1, 2008) - Season Two. I've got the game plan down pat now and I'm living large. Well, not exactly, but let me give you the low down on media day.

Don't get your hopes up for any exciting stories about Paul Millsap remembering my name, giving me a shout out, or even cracking a smile. He just asked me where he needed to go. That's my boy!

But Boozer dropped the 'what's up Hannah Montana' right out of the gates. Was that really necessary? I mean, if I've told him once, I've told him five times, it's the General. He got it right later and even threw out a salute. I'm cool with that. He and I talked a little baseball. He caught a few Yankees games this summer. He even asked about the Bees. Then, of course, it was time for him to take another photo.

Coach Sloan and I caught up too. He doesn't like baseball. He says it's like watching corn grow.

It’s me, checking my list, while new Jazz intern Jennifer talks Iowa with Korver at Media Day.

Memo's new hairdo and beard was a sight for sore eyes and the new proud papa Collins somehow wound up with a box of donuts that he was offering to the lot. It's a girl!

Brevin Knight says it's hard being away from his family, especially after having spent every day of the summer with them. He gets his new place this weekend while his family stays in Charlotte. He's been doing it for 12 years now.

The rook did the typical rookie duties. He was practically the last to get his photos taken, the last for the one-on-one interviews, pretty much the last Greek there. It was all yes sir and yes ma'am from Kosta Koufos. My moma's kind of guy.

Besides running around in really uncomfortable shoes, the day was a success. We made it our own. Then, a couple hours later, I was on the team plane facing backwards but trying not to let my lunch go. But beautiful Boise here I am. I'll get the goods from the experience here and send it your way.

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