And because of a number of complaints from Jazz fans, some of whom said the image was too hurtful on account of the club’s losses to Jordan’s Bulls in the 1997 and 1998 NBA Finals, the Jazz pulled the shirt from their shelves. Did we get that right?
Look, I covered those Finals series, watching them unfold from up-close.
I saw the Jazz compete, saw how excited the city was to have its team in those Finals, saw Karl Malone freeze up at key moments, saw the best basketball player in the history of the game beat the Jazz, even after I predicted that the Jazz would win that second series because I thought they were the better team that year, saw Jordan steal the ball from Malone, saw him bump off Bryon Russell and hit the infamous game-winning shot to eliminate the Jazz again, saw the disappointment rise up in so many fans here when the championship was lost.
I witnessed all of that and wrote about it, day after day after day.
But … are you kidding me? A quarter of a century later, you’re telling me some Jazz fans haven’t gotten over those losses, to the point where they whined about the Jazz selling a shirt that was being sold all over the league, and then the team capitulated to those cries and tears, taking away the shirts with the offending logo that is part of a widespread brand now sewn onto jerseys in many sports, college and pro, that nearly everyone else on the planet recognizes as and for what it is … a freaking logo?
Can you hear the laughter coming from other NBA cities, chuckles born from and aimed at the sensitivities of a fan base that still hasn’t recovered from games played so long ago? Here’s the real irony: The fact that that shirt bothered enough Jazz fans, some 25 years later, for the team to stop selling it probably put a wide smile on the face of the billionaire whose image still haunts them.
Whereas, if folks around here just accepted the logo for what it is, an image representing the Jordan brand, a sports shoe and clothing company associated with Nike, and made no fuss about it, Jordan wouldn’t be grinning and fans from other NBA cities wouldn’t be laughing.
I get how fandom works. People care about their team and they care about their connection to it. It’s been described to me by psychologists that these teams, in whatever sport, represent the people of a community, as though they are modern knights of the round table out doing nonviolent battle with knights from other city-states. We all can see the energy that goes into that care factor, that rooting effort.
That’s why otherwise rational, full-grown adults act like maniacs in the stands at games, people who are bankers and lawyers and doctors and teachers and accountants and mothers and fathers and bishops and priests and nuns and civil servants by day behave like schoolchildren at night in the arena.
Those psychologists have said there’s healthy therapy in the mix for those who can let loose in that setting, who can identify with “their” players, and feel good when they win and feel bad when they lose … as long as they don’t allow themselves to be eaten up by that representation, as long as they don’t go home and smash in their television or bust a hand by punching a wall or by taking their disappointment out on those in their household or go into a funk that disables them as functioning human beings over extended periods of time.
Twenty-five years is an extended period of time.
Let it go, Jazz fans. Let it go. Jordan isn’t just the player that beat your team so long ago. He beat a lot of teams. And now, he’s an older man, a sports icon who most people recognize as the best, most important player to ever put on an NBA uniform, to ever lace up … well, a pair of Jordans.
Don’t know about you, but I personally own four pairs of J’s, and I love ‘em. I’m not exactly a fashionista, but I get compliments on those shoes almost every time I wear them. Why? Because people really like them. Even a whole lot of Jazz fans.
When those fans here in Utah look at them, nobody thinks, “Oh, those are the shoes that stomped on us back in ‘97 and ‘98.” No. They think, “Nice shoes, dog. Nice shoes.”
The Jumpman shirts with “Utah Jazz” printed on them are pretty cool, too.
Breathe it out, Jazz fans. It’s gonna be OK. And if you don’t like it, don’t buy the shirt.
