Never, not in a million years, did I think Utah Jazz fans would be at the top of my Shitlist for D-baggiest NBA fans ever. I thought for certain that top spot would forever be reserved for the fat, hairy truckers, hookers, and hicks that cheer on the Sacramento Kings- fans whom, thanks to the early-2000′s, I regard with more disgust than Celtics
fans. At least Celtics fans have the championships to back up their trash talk. Sacramento, which I lovingly call the armpit of space and time, has neither a championship nor a front office capable of bringing it’s long-lost championship dreams to fruition.
And let’s be real here, to say that I hate Jazz and Sacramento fans more than Celtics fans is saying a lot, because I am a Lakers-till-I-die kind of girl. I’m a cut-me-and-I-will-bleed-purple-and-gold kind of girl.
But now it’s May 29, 2010, and here I am, in New York City, seething with disgust for a team who’s former owner I generally thought of as truly a one-of-a-kind guy in a sports world ruled by the bottom line mentality, a Mormon so devout he never attended Sunday games for the team he OWNED. Here I am, hating Jazz fans, the only fans in the history of the NBA that I would have once told you actually had class and truly deserved to win a championship.
Do I think Lakers fans deserve championships? No. Hell no, but we demand them, because we’re a bunch of bitchy Angelenos, most of us who have nothing worse to bitch about than traffic on the 405 or how the lady at the tanning salon gave us an over-priced, streaky spray-on. When we’re winning, we show up to games with celebrities, agents, rockstars, and shell out absurd money for crap tickets, because we can. When we’re losing (2006-2007, anyone?), no one shows up except for the diehards and Jack Nicholson. Hell, when we’re losing like that, we can’t even rely on Mr. Kobe Bryant himself to show up. In a losing season, I’d bet my life on him being the first to board a jet plane and get the Hell out of LA. Make no mistake, when we’re good, we’re goooood, which allows Jerry Buss & Co. make a killing off our backs, because our prime seats are filled with prima-donnas. These ladies and gents who raise ticket prices by using season tickets to be seen, they don’t know shit about basketball though. If you asked one of them how effective the triangle was against any given team on any given night, they’d probably respond with something like, triangle? I don’t know about any love triangles, you’ll have to ask my publicist about that.
