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NEW ORLEANS — Joe Landry's eyes lit up.
"Oh, I have somethin' to say," the 51-year-old New Orleans native said.
We were sitting in the lower bowl of the Smoothie King Center about an hour before the Pelicans and the Jazz (or "Them Thieves," as Landry jokingly called them) were set to tip-off.
Landry had walked into the arena with a Mardi-Gras-colored jacket with an old Jazz logo emblazoned on it. It caught my eye — and my curiosity.
"So what team are you cheering for?" I asked him.
"Who ya think?" he said with a laugh and an unmistakable New Orleans Yat accent.
He's a New Orleans man.
The Jazz weren't the first or the last team to move cities. The Minneapolis Lakers became the Los Angeles Lakers; the Vancouver Grizzlies are now the Memphis Grizzlies; the Warriors were once in Philadelphia; the Kings have made their way from Rochester, Cincinnati, and Kansas City before settling on Sacramento.
Some team names don't bear much meaning — Grizzlies, Warriors, Kings, etc. — and some even work out a little better in their new home (the San Diego Rockets' move to Houston). Some monikers, though, are part of the fabric of the city.
The Jazz were that to New Orleans.
"It's our culture, our heritage," Landry said. "Jazz is so much more than just the music. It's the creativity, the communal spirit, the art. It's New Orleans."
A few hours earlier, I walked down Royal Street, a mile or so away from the arena. A trumpet echoed off the French Creole canopied buildings that lined the street. A tuba answered. And then a trombone.
On a corner was a seven-piece band that looked to come from all walks of life. The guitarist performed in a well-fitted suit that wouldn't have been out of place in a business meeting. The trumpeter played in a wheelchair and wore a dirty coat. One member wore trendy clothes, another an old poncho.
It looked like a group of strangers had carried their instruments to the corner and decided to start playing together.
An open guitar case held a sign, that read, "Tips are appreciated. Dancing and smiling is required."
I've always been one to obey the rules — I joined the small group that gathered and took in the soulful improvisations that created a soundtrack to a city.
Music connects people; New Orleans proves that maybe better than anywhere else.
It was easy to understand what Landry meant.
Last November, the Jazz hosted their first of five "decade" nights commemorating the team's 50th anniversary. The first was to honor their New Orleans heritage — and they did it against the Pelicans.
I wondered at the time if that was unintentionally mean-spirited. Sure, it made sense but did New Orleans fans need another reminder of the namesake? Or, on the flip side, did they even care anymore?
There is history in every step of New Orleans. The early French inspiration gives it the look of a European destination, and its relative isolation (the city is technically an island between the Mississippi River and Lake Pontchartrain) created a unique culture that's really unrivaled in America. The food, the art, the architecture, and, yes, oh, yes, the music are all born from that proud history.
All that to say, 45 years isn't that long. Not for New Orleanians at least. This is a place where cemeteries are called cities of the dead, after all. They remember.
"They are the 'team from Utah' to me, they are not the Jazz," said 19-year-old James Dufrene (yes, even young fans feel the passion for the Jazz name).
There were thoughts about changing the Jazz name when the team arrived in Utah in 1979. A contest was even held, but nobody won.
"The names that came in, nothing seemed to fit," former Jazz owner Sam Battistone told the Deseret News in 2008. "I think probably more people in New Orleans were concerned about it than people in Utah."
Spend a day in New Orleans and it's easy to see why.
But with the help of four decades of consistent success in Utah, the name carries just as much weight to those in the Beehive State as in the Crescent City. And the Utah Jazz is now a brand that even those in New Orleans have a hard time denying.
"I hate to admit it, but Utah Jazz does have a pretty good ring to it," said Michael Mason, a 41-year-old fan who had on a Mardi Gras Pelicans jersey. He quickly added with a smile: "Still doesn't make sense."
The fans have accepted they'll never get the Jazz name back (note the uppercase; the lowercase version will always be prevalent in the city), but it especially stings seeing the yellow and black Jazz brand.
"The numbers look like electric tape," Dufrene said. "It's terrible. I mean, if you look at it, there's no jazz to it."
Added Mason: "If y'all gonna be Jazz, please be jazz."
Otherwise, they'd be happy to take the name back.
"I've learned to love the Pelicans, but would I switch? In a heartbeat," Mason said.
