Even Fans Horned In On the Act for the Jazz

SALT LAKE CITY — The saxophone incident was typical of the way the Lakers’ day went.

Nick Van Exel was on the run, dribbling from one end of the Delta Center to the other, fast as his little legs would take him. A few seconds remained in the third quarter. One quick basket could cut Utah’s advantage from 10 points to eight, maybe give the Lakers a little momentum. And they sure could use some.

Glancing at the clock, Van Exel crossed mid-court and drove to the hoop.

Four seconds, three, two . . .

A horn went off.

Leaving his feet, Van Exel rushed the shot, a running 18-footer. It clanked off the rim.

Then another horn went off.

Van Exel looked around, like, what’s up with that? A referee shrugged. There was nothing Van Exel could do but rejoin the Lakers on the bench, so they could keep looking for a better way to put the basketball into the basket. Not one of them had shot it worth a damn all day.

Meanwhile, a Utah fan was stuffing his saxophone back into its case. Then a security official carried the guy’s sax away, before he could blow another note, or another L.A. play.

“Yeah, you bet I heard it,” Van Exel said. “I thought it was the regular horn.”

I guess now we know why they call them the Jazz.

Very little went right here Sunday for the visitors, who were outhustled, outmuscled and outplayed, even musically, by Utah, 93-77. It was the worst loss for the Lakers in their last 19 games this season, and wasn’t as close as two of the Jazz’s three playoff victories over the Clippers.

You wouldn’t think the Salt Lakers would handle the Lakers so easily, with Karl Malone missing a dozen of his 21 shots and John Stockton passing out a meager six assists.

Yet they did, partly because of Greg Ostertag, the man whose name sounds like a kitchen appliance. (Buy a new Ostertag today. It blends, mixes, slices and dices.) He shackled Shaquille O’Neal pretty well, with plenty of help.

And more help for Utah came from Chris Morris, who can be quite useful to Jerry Sloan on those days when the Jazz coach isn’t asking a security guard to carry him away like a saxophone.

Once, his own coach ordered ushers to make Morris leave the arena, but this time Sloan was glad to have him handy. Morris made as many points (nine), coming off Utah’s bench, than everybody on L.A.’s bench did combined.

I don’t know why, and I doubt Del Harris does, either, but the Laker reserves in Game 1 gave the club little or nothing. If not for Kobe Bryant’s insignificant three-pointer in the fourth quarter and Derek Fisher’s layup during garbage time, the entire Laker bench’s output would have been a couple of first-half jumpers by Jerome Kersey.

Combine this with the mysterious disappearance of starting forward Robert Horry’s shot--six baskets in his last six games--and you can see how the Lakers can ill afford their other shooters to all have an off-day.

Especially against these mountain boys.

Van Exel said, “I think we just got outhustled. Portland is a lot more physical team, and a better rebounding team, but today, they [Utah] just outplayed and outhustled us.”

“And, they’ve got great fans here,” volunteered Horry. “There’s that sixth-man thing. What did we shoot, 30%? We’d better hurry up and get accustomed to their gym.”

Few do.

The Jazz is 39-3 here this season.

Lulling you to sleep sometimes--for example, the Lakers were very much in this game, down by four points, midway through the second quarter--Utah’s offense rocks you gently with that Malone-Stockton act, then hits you from every direction. Sunday’s game went from 39-35 to 50-35 in a blink.

Horry said, “Utah’s a sly fast-break team. You don’t think of Utah that way, usually. You think of them going to Malone. But they’re sneaky fast-breakers, with a bunch of quick hitters. They have a lot of weapons on that team.”

I thought the Lakers looked flat-footed all day. O’Neal wasn’t nearly as active as in Portland. Kersey felt light-headed at halftime. Eddie Jones threw an uncharacteristically lazy pass with 2 1/2 minutes to play, right to Stockton, who fed Malone for a last, resounding Delta space jam.

Not one Laker used fatigue for an excuse, though. Good for them.

“I think we’ll be fine,” Van Exel said.

Asked if fans with horns was an occupational hazard, Van Exel laughed and said, “No, usually it’s whistles.”

Don’t give them any ideas, Nick.