“Climb with us.”
That was the headline on a recent Utah Jazz email sent far and wide, meant to sell season tickets for the coming NBA slog. And that word “climb” caught my attention.
That’s what the Jazz are attempting to do.
Strap on some harnesses, slip on the boots, pick up a few piton hammers and use a whole lot of rope to get to the mountaintop. Why? Because it is there, out there, up there, somewhere.
It stirred to consciousness words written by Paulo Coelho, the famous Brazilian author who wrote, among other books, “The Alchemist.”
The wise one offered this bit of profundity: “The way up to the top of the mountain is always longer than you think. Don’t fool yourself, the moment will arrive when what seemed so near is still very far. …”
Very, times 10.
If you’ve ever ascended a sizable mountain, you know Coach Coelho to be correct. Many years ago, I climbed a mountain with two of my cousins, a bit of a mistake considering both of them previously had been named high school cross country All-Americans. We commenced the ascent at the crack of dawn and step by step we hiked and crawled toward the top. The tease was on, though, since the higher we went, the more we thought the summit was in sight, and then we thought it was in sight again, and again.
The moment did arrive when what seemed so near was still very far.
The Jazz’s climb is still very far. The difference being, it never seemed so near, at least not since management opted to unload three All-Stars and other quality pieces in disassembling a perennial playoff team because those decision-makers presumed they were smart enough to use a stack of accumulated draft picks and newfound financial flexibility to go to infinity and beyond.
The real Jazz similarity now to my personal climb all those years ago is that we boldly decided to commence our hike from darn-near the mountain’s lowest point. So have the Jazz, sporting that NBA-worst 17-65 mark this past season.
The ascent got steeper when Lady Luck kicked the Jazz from the No. 1 spot in the lottery to the No. 5. And the Jazz — and their fans — lost some elevated ground, sliding down to misfortune. Can the Jazz find a boost in the draft not named Cooper? Maybe a Mini-Cooper?
Even if they do, the temptation that makes the climb more arduous for everybody involved is tanking once more in the 2025-26 season. Horrors. But barring a major, yet-unseen trade or acquisition, the Jazz might do it all over again. That’s right. They might lose games on purpose to get a or the top athlete next time around, dressing that pursuit in the team’s favored word of late — development.
I see the pain on your faces. It’s understood, especially considering the longtime undulations — peaks and valleys — that already have been experienced around here. Jazz fans have been about as devoted to the cause, come what may, as any franchise could hope to expect, manifesting that devotion by filling so many seats, laying out so much cash for bad basketball. There are teams that have had it worse, but a Utah base that under previous ownership and management absorbed moments of disappointment, but saw many more wins than losses, is not accustomed to so much defeat.
Devotion has its snapping point, too, when the request gets stretched too far, when the ascent gets too steep, when the cliff starts leaning not away from the climbers, but toward them.
It was announced on Monday that a new sherpa is joining the climbing party, the son of an old sherpa already onboard. Austin Ainge, Danny’s boy, is becoming the president of Jazz basketball operations. One might sniff nepotism in that hire, or one might sniff new energy, new direction coming from a 43-year-old who, like his father, once played at BYU, and like his father, helped the Boston Celtics to success. Austin worked at various stages and in various ways for the C’s for 17 years.
Skeptics will howl at that move. Wannabe believers, hanging on as best they can, will hope for the best, and prepare for more of the worst.
Austin Ainge claims the tanking is done.
But the losing might not be.
Speaking of preparation, in Coelho’s quote, a line that followed what was mentioned earlier, finishes his thought like this: “ … But since you were prepared to go beyond, this is not really a problem.”
Two questions remain.
The first is, are the Jazz prepared to go beyond? In other words, when the top of the mountain is still so far off, do they have the acumen and wherewithal necessary to scout and select the proper talent, to make the right deals and decisions, to outsmart everyone, to successfully make the climb? The second one is, do Jazz fans have the willingness, the patience, the mental and financial resources to go on putting up with what’s unfolding in front of them?
One last thing the author wrote about the climb: “Be happy when you reach the top. Cry, clap your hands, shout to the four winds that you did it. Let the wind — the wind is always blowing up there — purify your mind, refresh your tired and sweaty feet, open your eyes, clean the dust from your heart. It feels so good what was just a dream before, a distant vision, is now part of your life.”
Uh-huh, and remember, thousands and thousands of people have died climbing mountains, sweaty feet, opened eyes, tickets bought, and all. The mountain my cousins and I climbed had a sign on it that read: “Climb at your own risk.”
Moving forward, pour your heart out and your money on the Jazz again, but read the sign if and as you do.
