Just about the time Mehmet Okur was putting a dagger to the Houston Rockets with his fourth 3-pointer of the night, and the reality was sinking in that the Jazz were still alive, and the crowd was singing "We Will Rock You" like it really meant it, this much seemed obvious: People missed all this.
Not only did the fans miss it. The Jazz did, too. And the Bear, the security staff, the Jazz Dancers, the ball boys, right on down to Wally the Greeter at the back door.
Four years. That's how long it's been since the playoffs, but even longer since the place sounded like this. Sure, Utahns got on with their lives. They drove their cars, paid their bills, got a little older.
Meanwhile, they probably forgot, just a bit, what it was like to be back in the heat of it all.
But Thursday night at EnergySolutions Arena, with the Jazz squaring the series at 3-3, it all came
back. This wasn't the NBA Finals, not by a long shot, although at times it was hard to tell. Like for instance when Andrei Kirilenko — who is finally feeling feisty enough to call himself AK-47 again — made a shot for a five-point lead with 3:51 to play. And when he swept in from the weak side to swat away immense Houston center Yao Ming's try.
The crowd went nuts.
"Exciting for the fans," said forward Jarron Collins, "exciting for us."
Even if most of the crowd had been there before.
Truth is, things have changed since the Jazz were in the playoffs. A lot. No more Mailman, Stockton or Hornacek. No more anticipating the postseason, followed by May sweats. Still, the quiet life wasn't all that bad.
And wow, was it uncomplicated when you didn't have to stay up late watching the playoffs.
While it's true that Collins, Kirilenko and Matt Harpring were with the Jazz at the end of the team's 20-year playoff run, thing weren't the same by then. After two title chances and two losses, the helium just leaked out. In 1999 and 2000 they lost in the second round. For the Jazz, that was shamefully early. It was clear their chance for a title had passed. Three more years and three first-round exits did nothing to change that assertion.
The came the winter(s) of their discontent, some of which produced wisecracks about the team's ill fortune.
That's why coach Jerry Sloan was so adamant about labeling this the most important year in franchise history. He didn't want anyone — fans, players, even himself — to forget what it felt like to be in the chase.
Although the Jazz's momentum faded late in the season, and in the first two playoff games, they came back. By Thursday night they had evened the series and gained a new life. Players who hadn't been operating at their best, such as Okur and Kirilenko, were closer to their old selves.
The bravado that won the Jazz a division championship had reappeared.
So when the lead crept to 11, the temperature at EnergySolutions Arena rose as the Jazz — and the crowd — smelled blood.
Carlos Boozer was looking every bit the star Jazz management hoped he'd be when he was signed. Deron Williams, who is good enough now to shine even on his bad nights, was running the show.
A brief seven-point Houston lead wasn't enough.
"There's definitely momentum as you catch it," said Kirilenko.
"You feel like you can catch every ball - offensively and defensively."
After the game, mobbed by media, Kirilenko was in mid-sentence when teammate Boozer walked past and shouted, "Here he is! AK-47!"
Kirilenko smiled with relief.
At least for a moment, the lean years had melted away.
Because Kirilenko had noticed it too. Things like this: The guy in the stands, wearing a full-on band uniform, hat included, and Jazz-blue face paint. Announcer Dan Roberts growling "How 'bout those Jazz?" just like the old days. The crowd booing the devil out of referee Dick Bavetta and him loving every minute. Sloan's shirt and tie soaking through with sweat. Bear playing "Great Balls of Fire" on a piano festooned with fireworks. The crowd chanting — no, roaring — "De-fense! De-fense!"
Oddly enough, out on the court, taking care of business, were a muscular power forward, a masterful point guard, and an honest-to-goodness 3-point ace.
And all you could say is that this all seemed familiar, from a lifetime ago.
And maybe, just maybe, it had been too long.
E-mail: rock@desnews.com