There is an ominous cloud over the SLC.
This young jazz team has morphed in the public's omnicscent eye from surprising underdog to championship contender in less than a year. Last year they wore their awe-shucks-nice-to-be-here masks into the Toyota Center and ripped the heart out of clutch city. Suddenly we were in the western conference finals. Against satan.
This series has a different feel altogether from last year's unforecast bloom. Taking two road games to start the series announced the ascendance. Arrival. No longer the out-of-nowhere tough guys. Now, a destructive force. But momentum is a fickle mistress in the playoffs. Since those first two games we have lost at home, edged out a win on (of all things) an Okur offensive rebound, and layed a gigantic turd in game 5. Suddenly, the Rockets, even with homecourt in their backpocket, seem like David, and we the tired, uninterested Goliath.
Like the stormclouds behind the two well-dressed businessmen above, things can change quickly. This weekend will likely find the Jazz hopelessly outmatched against the Lakers. Then, we can play our preferred role: snake in the grass. Until then, let's hope we can win playing the hated role of favorite on Friday.