THERE WAS A brief flurry of exhilaration as the final buzzer sounded, but that was as demonstrative as it got. John Stockton laid a quick bear hug on Antoine Carr, then Carr picked Bryon Russell up in his arms. But before someone did something absolutely crazy - like, say, giving a high-five to a teammate - Jazz coach Jerry Sloan herded them off the court.
After all, this was the NBA playoffs and, as Sloan likes to point out, it's all a very serious business.The Jazz earned a spot in the Western Conference Finals Monday night, beating the Lakers 98-93 in overtime. Afterward in the locker room, it was as boisterous as a reading room. Nobody screamed, "Bring on the Bulls!" - or even "Bring on the Rockets!" for that matter. Nobody pounded his chest or flexed his biceps. Nary an index finger was raised. Nobody suggested they go out on the town, or even send out for pizza. No one vowed to get the Jazz logo tattooed on his back. Not a single player had a lampshade on his head. The locker room celebration was in a dormant stage. You could find more commotion in a bank vault.
The reason being, of course, the Jazz feel they have more business to attend to.
"I don't see anyone in here celebrating," shrugged Carr. "It's not over yet. If we win a championship, then we'll celebrate."
If the Jazz seem a short step away from being spoilsports, that's because they've been here before. They've attended the Western Conference Finals four times in six years. It's a routine they know by heart. Tell a Jazz player in October that he'll be in the conference finals the next May, and he might have to stifle a yawn. He'll fight the urge to roll his eyes and say, "Tell me something I don't already know."
"This is good, it's good," allowed Karl Malone. "But that's not all we want."
The fact is, the Jazz - and everyone else in Utah - understand the days of being happy just to be there are over. For most of the '90s it has gone like this: The Jazz got themselves into the conference finals, ended up playing a better team, and lost. They shouldn't have won any of those series, and they didn't.
Even so, it has become frustrating. Last year, though outmanned by Seattle, they took their series to the seventh game before losing. Fair enough. That was the first time they had extended a conference finals series beyond six games. In 1994 they lost in five games to Houston, which went on to win the NBA title. And in 1992 they lost in six games to Portland.
By the time this year rolled around, it was a known fact the Jazz were tired of feeling like Sonny Bono - an expendable attachment to the real talent.
Had the Jazz not gone to the conference finals this year, it wouldn't have been for a lack of effort - on anyone's part. The sellout crowd at the Delta Center turned the volume up to somewhere between "Metal-li-ca" and "Cape Canaveral" for Monday's game. It could have been louder, but only if someone had dropped a Scud missile in the boiler room. The crowd was on its feet and cheering even before the first Jazz player was announced. By the time Greg Ostertag had blocked a Shaquille O'Neal dunk attempt, starting a break that ended in a Malone dunk, it was clear the crowd was thinking big. The noise level kept at a steady pace from then on, except for a few interludes when it went off the charts - such as when O'Neal fouled out in regulation, Kobe Bryant put up a series of air balls, and, of course, when the final horn sounded.
Thus, the Jazz found themselves headed to the conference finals once again, having been there enough to do it by rote. This year, they won't have to ask directions to the Galleria in Houston or how to catch the ferry from Seattle to Bremerton. They'll just have to go there.
So if you see a Jazz player walking around town this week, and he looks as though he's getting ready to bury his pet dog, not play a basketball game, it isn't that he's mad. Or depressed. It's just that he knows coming close isn't close enough. And that this year they'll need a real good reason if they want to get crazy.