Dodgeball with Deron and Kyle

The Utah Jazz are a team that's really easy to ignore. A competent, perennial playoff team with a rich sense of history and traditions, it remains, to me, one of the teams in the league that I care the least about. I know, I know: Stockton and Malone played here forever and they were great and it was awesome or whatever (despite never winning a championship). And yes, I know they do well and I know they have some great players. Consider Deron Williams: He's almost certainly the second best point guard in the league and, if you are an idiot or from Utah, perhaps the best point guard currently in the league. The point remains: The dude is really, really good. He's the only one even close to taking the mantle of best point-guard in the league from Chris Paul (and indeed, head-to-head, there's no point guard who I think Chris Paul fears more). That said, I find it hard to care about him. Why? Because of Utah's culture of dullness. No matter how scintillating Deron Williams is, he still plays in Utah, where the list of edgy activities includes drinking Coca-Cola, staying up past midnight, and being not-white. It's a hard shadow to escape from, and no matter how much of a baller I know he is, the dullness of Utah is such a powerful force that just manages to shut down whatever neurological receptors allow me to be interested in him or like him.

Now, consider Kyle Korver. There was basically no way I was going to like him, a corn-fed, God-fearing, white-boy spot-up shooter from the Midwest who is maybe best known for vaguely looking alternately like Ashton Kutcher and Jon Heder.

That being said, I kind of like both of them a lot now:




Apparently, as you might expect, the tournament filled up pretty quick, but there's a waiting list open. If I was in Utah, I'd totally sign up. Playing dodgeball with a couple of doofy millionaires for charity? Absolutely.

I wonder if this means I like the Jazz now? I don't know what to do about that.