Calvin Barrett is a writer, editor, and prolific Mario Kart racer located in Tokyo, Japan. Currently writing for SB Nation and FanSided, he has covered the Utah Jazz and BYU athletics since 2024 and graduated from Utah Valley University.
A BLINDING BEAM from the spiteful scorching entity in the sky remains laser-focused on your face. A death ray from outer space that is simultaneously compassionate and relentless, providing you with the life-giving warmth to carry on while slowly draining you of all
moisture and sizzling your now flamingo-fied flesh. Like bacon, you crisp beneath the summer heat. You glance to the right and see that some other muddy-faced anklebiter has successfully cooked an omelette on the sidewalk. Yikes. Sweat floods past your brow and into your vulnerable eyes.
They say the human body is comprised of 70% water, but the other 30% must be the sand and woodchips you’ve stuffed your mouth with as Mom’s naptime overlapped with your adolescent culinary awakening. The rubber truly complements the splintering woodchips in a manner one would never expect, but has no choice but to welcome wholeheartedly. A masterstroke in resourcefulness, and a triumph from the kitchen of a child.
From one platform to the next, you leap, climb, and swing higher and higher. The screeching yelp from your fraying, overworn Chuck Taylors alerts the neighborhood of each maneuver (Mom remains unconscious), transmitting a frequency high enough to beckon “Killer”, the McLanahans’ bloodthirsty rotweiler, who now crouches directly beneath your platform. Poised to pounce. Hungry for action; you are action. Rumbling through the clenched cage of drill bits, he calls a mouth, his bloodshot eyes absorb your fear and await any misstep. The slightest slip, the most benign blunder, could be your very last. You decide to proceed up the playground with a bit more care this time around. Dusting wood shaving off your Return of the Jedi tee, you chart a course for the slides at the summit.
Don’t look down. Yeah, just don’t look down.
For its intended audience, a playground is a haven of bliss and adventure. A glorious summit where the brightest minds in imagination collaborate in a viscous mixing pot of ideas. Some fantastic, others borderline unthinkable. It’s magnificent. It’s disgusting. It’s the playground.
Need Help? Dial 1-800-HOOPERS to reach the basketball addiction hotline
The Utah Jazz are basketball’s playground. For obvious, surface-level reasons, they’re exciting, energetic and, well, stuffed full of youths. For less obvious reasons, the Jazz are a basketball addict’s Cloud Coo-coo Land. Cotton candy. Sour Skittles. The world’s largest speaker system constantly blasting a 1,000-hour loop of “It’s Raining Tacos”. Unicorns (Porzingis, Durant, Wembanyama, etc) dance on rainbows. Basketballs are bubblegum and the citizens sleep on a bed of marshmellows after flossing with sour punch straws and washing it down with Sprite.
Dentists do quite well there, I hear.
If you find yourself giddy and anxious for the upcoming season of Jazz basketball, there is no way around this simple fact: you are neck-deep in basketball fanatacism and sinking. Don’t struggle — this pit of quicksand is unrelenting and ever-widening.
I don’t want to hear excuses or denial. Take a look at the roster — top to bottom — and you tell me that your fascination with the team doesn’t stretch beyond reasonable explanation.
Utah Jazz 2025-26 roster
Backcourt: RJ Luis, Keyonte George, Isaiah Collier, Walter Clayton, Elijah Harkless, Svi Mykhailiuk
Wings: Cody Williams, Taylor Hendricks, John Tonje, Ace Bailey, Brice Sensabaugh, KJ Martin
Frontcourt: Kyle Anderson, Kyle Filipowski, Lauri Markkanen, Walker Kessler, Jusuf Nurkic, Oscar Tshiebwe, Kevin Love
If you don’t mind, I’d like to take a moment and ask you a few reactionary questions to gauge your current state. This will only take a few moments, and it really helps with our research.
Thank you for your cooperation. We’ll start with some easy ones to get the ball rolling, and gradually ramp up the intensity. Please do your best to answer honestly. Let’s begin.
Okay. Next one.
Very good. Here’s another one.
Alright. One final question.
Do you feel that? The scorching burn on the back of your calves from hitting lightspeed on the metal slide? You’re in the playground now.
The very fact that you participated in this poll at all is evidence of your basketball obsession (if you decided not to participate, there may yet be hope for you). The game has its claws in you to such a degree that you are actively following storylines of two-way college stars, ancient relics obtained from the Miami Heat, and the potential of the 9th overall pick after an early season-ending injury as a sophomore. You are closely attentive toward the worst basketball team in the NBA last season.
These are not indictments, this is applause.
To the unsung heroes. To the late bloomers. To the underrated all-stars and the collegiate superstars. Here’s to the Utah Jazz, and those who follow them. For those who feel a kinship to this team, rest assured the rise is soon to come. No basketball success story follows a perfectly linear path. Supporting this team in its worst moment may pay off with a championship. It may not. But your basketball hyperfixation has not gone unnoticed.
Give the old tire swing a go, my friend.
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