Millers & E.S.A. confirm: “It’s all about the Fans”

[TameKate]

I have been a Jazz fan for about 22 years now. My father loved football and often went to Las Vegas and the like to card bet on his favorite teams. (Usually not successful). The only time he had any success on betting was when he asked me, who was 10 at the time, who would win the super bowl. Now in the mind of a 10year old the only football team that would win is the Chicago Bears. I figured the Bears were a big scary animal. So my dad placed a bet for them , for me, and to his surprise they won. I was the only 10 year old kid I knew who had 100 dollars! Much to my father’s dismay, I thought Basketball made more sense. At least the game wasn’t stopped all the time by silly flags or guys who belched like the kids at school. Then he was proved wrong again, when the first pro-team we could get behind wasn’t a football team, but a basketball one.

My one and only Jazz game that I was able to see was Feb 18, 1991 vs the San Antonio Spurs. You see I was 16, just barely had my license and the miller organization gave out Sub-for-Santa at the time. Since I was helping to raise 4 of my mothers grandchildren, they were a part of that Christmas and a part of that program. I begged my mother to trust me since the kids received tickets in their Christmas packages. I could take them, I would be very careful driving in the big city with little kids, and I would make sure they were all safe. I would protect them, but come on. I was 16, licensed to drive, and if I had to take Attila the Hun I would have, to go see the Jazz. It was amazing. I not only was able to spend some of my money to get them all small basketballs and waving banners but we got to play choo-choo train up one side and down the other in The Salt Palace. (You know the big circular area where you walked all the way up on a ramp?)

The downside was that I did not fit in the seat. I am a large woman, have been for most of my life. Movie theater seats and Arena seats never seemed to work. When I was 16 it didn’t matter for that game. I spent the whole game sitting on the very edge of the seat before where the arm rests started. Between kids, bathrooms, nachos, pizza, sodas, and yes one instance of having to find a guy to take my two small nephews to the bathroom, I was never sitting in the chair anyway. Near the end of the game I sat on the stairs next to my 2 nephews just so muscles could rest from the strict pose. I still enjoyed the game and cheered with them until my throat was raw. I made sure they were safe, full and happy. When they slept in my car on the way home I cried the whole way silently, realizing that I could never go to another Jazz game because I did not fit.

When the new Delta Center was ready for business later that year; I thought maybe I can go after all. Larry Miller had to know that there were some people in Utah that did not have “heineys” that rivaled Barbie right? Instead of asking I did the stubborn teenage thing and decided I had to find out for myself. I signed up with a local temporary staffing to do vending for an event. When I peeked inside (since I was not allowed to go in the arena itself), I cried again because the seats looked even smaller then the ones in the Salt Palace. I realize now that if I would have just asked someone, or went in and looked anyway, there were places that I could go, and I could see my precious Jazz Team. Instead, I missed the jazz, missed the Oingo Boingo concert which was one of the only 2 bands I wanted to see, and I missed out on a lot for a very long time.

18 years later, things have changed. I still make my own playoff boards, I still either listen or watch every jazz game I can and I still wish sometimes that I could find out what it would be like to watch the team. At least, I did wish until October 15, 2009. I would always give my tickets to my boyfriend to go see the Jazz with his buddies. I couldn’t go right? Well while Ben and Vili were at the preseason Jazz vs Denver game, they received 2 more tickets to see the preseason Portland game. I tried to be stoic and tell them how happy I was for them but the tears I have not cried in years over the jazz threatened to start again. Reading my face, my boyfriend talked to one of his bosses at work, who recommended Runar. Ben made an appointment with people and went down to the ESA ticket office, and gave me the best present family or Santa could ever give me. I got to see a game.

Turns out, that the handicapped sections all around the ESA not only can hold wheelchair access, but could be used for someone in my situation as well. Ben’s best friend gave up his ticket in a heartbeat for me to go. They were able to work out a deal to switch to the seats I needed and I had MY first jazz ticket, just for me. It wasn’t my niece’s or nephews, it wasn’t for anyone else but me. All that week I could barely breathe, and my lips would tremble talking about the ticket. Turns out Runar (or someone) talked to the office (or Gail Miller). I received a picture of the ESA to hang on my wall, and was told about being able to go in early and see the practice before the game. Nothing, other than the birth of my daughter, could explain the amazement that I felt. I was going to see my team play.

We went down, and they let us in the doors at 5:30pm. Ben , Vili and his brother walked with me through the doors and into the Arena. Ben, cheesy as he is, said “Welcome to the Energy Solutions Arena, home of the Utah Jazz Baby.” For a minute I was secretly angry as I saw nothing but red on the bulletin boards and signs, until it changed blue and I realized this was real. I stood on the platform for a minute that separates upper and lower bowl, and seeing the arena I cried for only the second time in my life over the Jazz. The screen was bigger than I remember in the Salt Palace. The seats seemed closer as if even on the upper bowl, one jump and you could touch the players. When that arena was designed, Miller must have been very proud. It was the only arena that actually felt like a team home, where the fans came first. I was in complete awe. Anyone who saw me noticed the large girl with the white jazz hat who bawled like a baby.

I was able to ride the elevator down and walk along the tunnel to where the jazz were out practicing on the floor. I said hi to Runar as we walked. This had been the closest I could ever dare to breathe near the team or the court and it was spectacular. I watched most of the team and rookies practice. I even got signatures from Ty Corbin, Brewer, Milsap, D-Will, Memo, Matthews, Nelson, and even Jeff Hornacek. I cried again seeing each one sign the ticket or playing card for me and waved and told them thank you. Milsap, Memo and Hornacek told me thank you back. I was shocked at how nice the team was in general. Scott Layden ran away from autographs but was still polite. You see all these things on the tv and radio about people and their attitudes when they are pro, or stars, and the Jazz forgot to take the class on that. I was extremely thankful. The Ushers talked to me and explained a few things and showed me where to go and even listened as to why I was crying so much.

Once back up in our section 4 seats, the staff was still top-notch. They pulled out these folded chairs and the seats had a lot of room for flailing elbows and cheer jumps. I was shocked how close we still looked to the floor. I remember watching the movie “Eddie” with Whoopi Goldberg. I was expecting to want a microscope and did not need one. Larry Miller should be commended at the fantastic views and placements within E.S.A.. The game was easy to watch, comfortable, and I was in my own “fan heaven”.

The fans in the ESA are respectful, the staff goes beyond the call, and even ticket management and Gail Miller took the time to listen to Ben as he told of the girl who never got to go to a game. They took care of me and treated me like royalty; as they do all of their fans. Later as my boyfriend, Ben, went back to the ESA ticket office to try to get tickets for a normal season game (I hope we can pay them all off now lol), he was greeted by everyone that helped make my dream come true. They cared, they were as happy as he was, and they showed just where the heart of pro sports resides. I posted a blog earlier this summer about players getting too big for their britches, and forgetting that the fans come first. It is easily apparent that the Utah Jazz/Miller Organization/Energy Solutions Arena do not belong in that category.

I wish for everyone to get to experience what I experienced that night. I wish to see down up front when I get a ton of money, and I wish to get the rest of the team and coaches signatures someday. I hope good things happen for the Jazz, Gail Miller, Runar, Justin, T.J. and Vili. Thank you soo much for the memory. I will cherish the new playoff board as I always have, putting the Jazz prematurely in the #2 spot in the west. Bring it ON!!

TameKate

[UtahQuad]

I just wanted you to know you are certainly not alone. Years ago as a kid we got to drive down from Jackson Hole once a year to go to a game, and it was just awesome, I can remember each time like it was yesterday. Well 6 years ago I was injured, and lost the ability to walk and have to use a wheelchair. When I moved to Utah, the only thing I wanted to do was go to games again. After talking to many people there, my dream once again became reality. Much like you, I found out that they did have a place for me in my chair there. The reason I say this is because, well you probably saw me there at the game. I am the one in the blue and white wheelchair sitting in parking space #2 in the disabled row in section 4. I am the one who sits there all dressed in blue, with my jersey on, cheering for the team, and ringing my white cowbell with the Jazz logo made by a friend of mine (thank you Wyatt). Now I am one of the fortunate ones to be able to call that parking space there mine, and to get to go to all the games. It has always been an emotional place for me, from tears to anger, to pure joy, that arena has been home to all of it for me.

I am now 31 years old, living on my own, and going to games. I rarely miss a game, and if I do, it is because I either am VERY sick, or the weather is so bad that the 45 minute drive from Orem becomes a hinderance. There have been many times I thanked the almighty that I have what I do, and realize that of all of the people in that arena, I am one of the luckiest ones. In the few years that I have been a season ticket holder, I have been shown kindness there that makes me feel like the place is a second family. About a year ago, I got to benchwarm, and while there, got to chat with the players, and Deron was the most personable person I have met in a long time. You see I wear his jersey, and the publically for sale D-Will shoes from footlocker, as well as more stuff. When he walked up to me, and signed not only a new authentic jersey I had bought for that moment, but also a game worn warmup jacket, he had to comment on the shoes, pat me on the back, and just smile and chat with me for over 5 minutes. That time to me was a moment beyond words. Everyone there commented later that I looked like a little child at Christmas, staring at all the presents left by Santa. A few weeks prior to that, I was down in the tunnels prior to the game, and saw Gail pushing Larry in his chair, and as they approached, Larry commented and said "hey now that is a cool chair, I need to get one like that don't ya think?". He and I sat there for a few chatting. Frank Layden and his wife were also just awesome over the past year as I got to see them before some games.

The something happened, Larry passed on, and I cried so hard, like it was a father, grandparent, or best friend moving on. I can still remember sitting there in the arena, on a surreal night, as the lights turned off, and the only thing lit was Larry's empty seat, with a single white rose on it. In that moment of mourning and sorrow, I came to realize, that as much as the staff and the players were part of the team, so were the fans. I watched many fans cry, wipe their eyes, and watched them pull together.

For 26 years I have been a Jazz fan, and that will never change as far as I can see. Now days I feel a part of the arena world there. When I get to the game, I probably shake 100 peoples hands, and hug another 40, before the game has even started. When I am late to a game, or am absent due to some sickness, the next game, I come in to 50 different people worrying about where I was, and if I was OK. These people truly are a second family. We as fans included. I feel like my second family is as close knit as my real family, despite its large size. And now you too are included in that too my friend. Next time you come to a game, stop by my seat there in the arena, seat 2, row 26, section 4, portal D, and say hi, shake my hand, give me a hug, as you see we are ALL part of the Jazz family!!