The first game of the two-game series is about to begin. Cavs vs. Spurs in Salt Lake City. Can you believe that I got a three game pass for just $8?

The game begins and former Utah Jazzman Naz Mitrou-Long is in the starting lineup for the Cavs. One thing is amiss. For some reason, the back of his uniform does not read his full last name and just says “Long.” What happened to Mitrou? Was there a falling out or is it more likely that his jersey was hastily printed by Nike 20 minutes before tipoff? I’m going with the latter.

I look around the arena and notice there’s both a live band at the top of the lower bowl and a DJ on the court. Seems like a little much, maybe just go with one or the other? Whatever.

Josh Magette and Jeff Ledbetter are both suiting up for the Spurs. I’m not 100% but I’m willing to bet that they both may have the all-time record for career games played in the NBA Summer League. You have to admire their grind. Ledbetter has his signature ponytail hairdo but is complementing the look with the ninja headband that has taken the NBA by storm. It’s about as badass as any white guy has ever looked in a basketball game.

The game starts and Darius Morris hits Ledbetter with a nice behind the back pass for a layup. Sick. Thirty seconds later, someone else tries a tricky pass, which lands on the courtside press row and is fielded cleanly by Nick Bolerjack, who does social media for the Jazz. Well done, Nick. He gets a high five from Jazz team writer Aaron Falk as a reward.

Damn, Lonnie Walker has weird hair. Remember how funny it was when he tried to put on his hat at the draft last year and it kinda just hovered in space above his head? That picture never fails to make me laugh.

It’s not very full in the arena at this point, so you can hear the microphones on the rim really well. I like it.

Magette hits a 30-foot 3-pointer to a smattering of oohs and aahs from the crowd. If you squint really, really hard, he kinda looks like Jimmer Fredette, which is probably why he got some fanfare from the Utah crowd.

I’m bored so I get up and start walking around. I see some friends. That’s cool.

There’s a lot more Spurs and Cavs fans than I’d ever guess would be here. No Grizzlies fans yet but there is a dude in a bootleg Murray State Ja Morant jersey. I wonder if he knows that Morant isn’t coming. Should I tell him? I don’t.

ESPN’s Tim MacMahon is bored too. He’s walking around looking for a place to spend his hard-earned food voucher. Looks like he’s going to try a slice of pizza at Maxwell’s. Excellent choice by an excellent writer.

One dude is already walking around in a pair of adidas D.O.N. Issue #1s. Dammit, I’m jealous. I bought my pair online the night before but I chose standard shipping. Stupid decision.

I head back to my seat with a delicious can of Redd’s in tow. I love beer that doesn’t taste like beer.

The Jazz Dunk Team is on the floor and they’re in midseason form in June. They go something like 8-for-8 on dunks and I almost jump up and cheer. But I don’t because I want to look cool.

I notice a weird moment nearby on the lower bowl stairs. Former BYU guard Tyler Haws is walking up the stairs with his baby, he probably has to change a diaper. He bumps into a guy in a blue shirt who is on the wrong side of the stairwell. Haws says “Excuse me,” and moves past the guy who doesn’t seem to recognize him. Was the guy wearing a BYU shirt? I don’t know, probably not. I wish he was though because then this story would be way better.

The game winds down. Luka Samanic drains a dagger three with about 30 seconds left then hammers a dunk with one second remaining to ice the Spurs win. A single piece of confetti falls to the floor, really.

In the intermission, I look at social media and check my stats on Medium. I’m really talented and people love reading my stuff. I’m for hire, by the way.

A kid in a very obviously fake OVO edition Fred Van Vleet jersey walks down the stairs. An obnoxious kid in a CJ McCollum jersey yells down at him, “Kawhi’s going to leave!” Fisticuffs ensue. Just kidding, but that would be cool.

“Mo Bamba” is playing over the speakers. Damn, that’s a super good basketball-game song.

The starters for the next game are announced. I wonder who the biggest name in the bunch is. It’s probably Memphis’ Yuta Watanbe. I’m excited.

Newly drafted Jazzman Miye Oni is wearing №8. I wonder what Deron Williams would be thinking. By the way, Oni finishes the game with a plus/minus of -20. I think I could put up a similiar number.

Memphis’ Jevon Carter is wearing two different colors of the same shoe. I wonder why. Did he forget to pack them properly? Is he trying to stand out? Does he wear a different size on one foot than the other and couldn’t get the same color in the other pair of shoes? I’m a huge shoe nerd, but for the life of me I can’t figure out what brand his mismatching shoes are. I think they were made in Romania.

A guy named Tanner McGrew checks in for the Jazz. He’s wearing №29, which is objectively not a good basketball number. I’m sure there’s a way to see if anyone in NBA history has ever worn that number, but I’m not in the mood to look it up.

Less than 10 seconds into game action, McGrew catches the ball on the wing and jacks up a triple. Air ball. I chuckle.

On the next possession, McGrew and Willie Reed run a nice pick and roll which finishes with an alley oop from McGrew to Reed. No chuckle this time. Take that, me.

True story, I saw Reed at the Foot Locker at City Creek on Saturday. He bought like three pairs of shoes. I went up to him and said I liked his game and that I hoped his shoulder was feeling better. He smiled and dapped me up. I looked super cool in front of this cute girl who happened to be there in the store.

This little kid in front of me is munching on some play dough ice cream. The colors are mesmerizing and I want some. I get up from my seat in pursuit of some ice cream.

I locate the ice cream stand on the concourse and begin to stand in line. As soon as I get to the stand, the real, actual Jazzmen make an appearance on the Jumbotron. Joe Ingles, Donovan Mitchell, Dante Exum and Georges Niang are all shown on the big screen. Mitchell senses the cameras are on him, looks up from his chat with Exum and smiles for the fans. The place goes nuts, it’s the biggest moment of the day and I’ve missed it. Dammit.

Back to ice cream. Focus, Austin. A small cone is just $2 and a big cone is $6.25. This is hard. Do I get two cones like the lady in front of me and double-fist my way back to my seat? Nope. And I call an audible. One cone with mint chocolate chip, please. I crack a funny joke to the cashier and I think she doesn’t charge me for the cone. It’s nice to be hilarious.

I walk around the concourse some more. Near the main atrium, a couple of artists are painting a couple of large blocks for some reason. I wonder why. Noted Jazz super fan ZDOG is meeting fans and signing autographs with what I’m pretty sure is a dry-erase marker. Okay, then. Nearby, a lady is sitting on the ground, leaning back on a garbage can while chowing down on some nachos. I long for that level of not-giving-a-shit-ness.

Bad news. I have to go to the bathroom but have yet to finish my ice cream cone. Thank god I didn’t go with the two-cone approach. I take care of business with one hand, which feels disgusting but also kind of gangster. I wash just one hand, hope that’s kosher.

Finally, my ice cream is done. I watch the Jazz Bear shoot a t-shirt out of a cannon into the upper bowl where no one is sitting. Nice shot, dude. I check the game clock. There’s two minutes left until halftime and my attention span is completely gone.

I make my way out of the arena, walking past the kid in the Boston Kyrie Irving jersey shirt. I’m guessing he doesn’t have Twitter or a clue about what happened in the NBA the night before.

As I drive back to my incredibly depressing bachelor’s pad, I realize the sun is still out and I’ve already seen 1.5 basketball games today.

It’s time for a nap.