We just don’t know when. As per last week’s offer, I invited people in the bar business to offer up their places for an evening in order to hold the First Ever Salt Lake City Chelada Party. Port O’ Call stepped to the plate. But warm weather still isn’t here—at least not for keeps— so the chelada party may be weeks away. You’ll be fully informed, though—and, again, the only rule is no jackasses allowed. Some folks commented on SLWeekly.com that they either don’t like cheladas, or prefer other beers in their cheladas. That’s OK. Just come.
As before, Hayduke is invited, and Tibbs, and Amy, plus all the City Weekly staff. Chris Smart can come—because I’d like him there—as well as the other Tribune or Deseret News staffers who were invited by virtue of their names appearing in our Staff Box question of last week. Singleton and Rocky can’t come no matter what. Giddyup, wbeanster, RJ, Greta, Clyde, Joe and jnuts are invited. I’d invite State Rep. Glenn Donnelson or even Chris Buttars, but I think they hate Mexicans more than they hate beer. That’s saying something in Utah. There’s no point in asking them to a function where beer and Mexicans are mixing, especially if you consider the double whammy that said beer is a Mexican beer. We’ll keep you posted.
• Carlos the Great
Carlos Boozer has been a fantastic addition to the Utah Jazz. As I sit here nursing yet another hernia, barely able to sit, I have great sympathy for the nearly two years of injuries he endured when he first came to town. He was hurt, and that was that, as far as I was concerned. Since his recovery, he’s twice made the All-Star team and has established himself as one of the best forwards in the NBA. That’s all well enough, but for the life of me, I can’t figure out why he’s rolling over in the first two playoff series against the Houston Rockets and the Los Angeles Lakers.
Boozer’s point production is way down from his season average. I’d like to compliment him on his fine defense, but cannot. It’s especially galling that comparisons are made between Boozer and Karl Malone. Some people say that it’s unfair to compare the two, as Boozer is barely six years into the league. It’s fair as hell—Boozer is to Malone what Jerry Lewis is to Rocky Balboa. If he’s stopped anyone from penetrating to the basket, or has inspired fear in any of his opponents thus far, I haven’t seen it. Plus, he’s shooting bricks.
Smarter people than I can dissect the core reasons for his sub-par play. However, Boozer was quoted recently in the newspapers, explaining his lack of production against Houston, by saying simply that his game will turn around because “I know I’m a great player.” That’s the polar opposite of how I’d ever describe myself, and it’s not because I’m humble. But, I’d never be caught in the interior lie of stating to anyone that I’m a great anything, especially a great writer. OK, I’m a pretty fair cook, but that’s it.
If it comes to pass that validation in a team sport such as basketball distills down to how one psychoanalytically feels about himself, the Jazz have no chance. If Boozer can play like crap and, at the final losing buzzer, exclaim that he has a touchy-feely good sense about himself, then he should play singles tennis, not a team sport like basketball. Malone could carry a team and, even when he was having a poor game, he still wanted the ball at the end—or at least gave an opponent a forearm they wouldn’t soon forget. Boozer doesn’t seem to scare anyone and doesn’t look all that hungry for a win. He’s waiting for a play to be made instead of making one himself.
Truth is, Boozer is a great player. The NBA is full of great players. But history only remembers the great players who win. If Boozer finds comfort in being a great player but not a winner, then my kid bought his Boozer jersey for nothing and the Jazz will again have a long summer.
• The Guv: Drunk Administrating
A while back, I wrote that the new liquor laws that went into effect on Monday were the worst ever in the entire history of bad Utah liquor laws. In just two days, they’ve proven to be even worse than that—perhaps the worst and most stupid since the Brits allowed mead to wash upon their shores during the Middle Ages. Our new liquor laws don’t simply mock drinkers, they embarrass all fair-minded thinkers. Why in the name of God did Gov. Jon Huntsman Jr. fall in with the wrong crowd and sign into law a string of liquor changes that not only add to the confusion, but make it exponentially worse? Who will be the first to sell the “I went to Utah and all I got was a lousy half-ounce of liquor” or the “I joined the club and they still gave me a hard time” T-shirts? Rejoice, tourism industry—yeah, right.
His eyes were wide shut on this one. The Guv says he wants more accommodating liquor laws. Restaurants got a worthless half-ounce of additional liquor per drink. Private clubs lost the sidecar but won the addition of a second shot of non-primary liquor, neither of which they asked for. Did anyone tell The Guv that a primary shot of vodka and a second shot of lemon vodka (because having just a vodka is illegal) still equals a sidecar? A toast to The Guv—not a blind drunk, just blind when it comes to liquor.
