Utah Jazz: Instruments of Action, Vol. 1
Watching all the players move along, It seems chaotic, but its orchestrated…Sloan knows just right where they belong.
Smears of sweat, reflections off their face.
The rookie seems panicked on offense,
Shouts from the sideline put him in his place.
From here I can’t hear a single word he’s said…
Just observe the point guard,
He’s running the play inside his head.
He’s criticized for being too old fashioned.
Big city players, have big city egos,
They just want sneaker deals, but lack the passion.
Mr. Miller says the past is here to stay.
From up here in the crowd,
I can only hope the future is a million miles away.
Jerry’s good manners seem to disappear.
The horn blows, the game begins,
The team colors seem so much brighter when he’s here.
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