They hung John Stockton's number from the Delta Center ceiling, Monday, and for a few moments it was 1984, 1992 or even 1998. Never mind the year. Mr. Seldomsmile, Mr. Shortpants, Mr. No Nonsense was back.

He stood at center court, looking fit enough to play in the game against New Orleans, yet uncomfortable with the fanfare, wishing the game would get going. A few self-effacing remarks, praise for teammates, family and fans, and he was back to his seat and away from the brightest lights.

"I can't say enough," former Jazz coach Frank Layden told Stockton, during the halftime ceremony, "but let's hope that someday you come back for us."

In a certain way, things have come full circle since Stockton was a young artist on the rise. Hopes are again high for the Jazz. Players are youthful, enthused and committed to Jerry Sloan's lunch pail approach. But the similarity ends there. Today's team is built around the many, not the few. It has multiple faces. Two guards and three forwards make a workable combination, but so do four forwards and a guard.

Remember the old one-play Jazz that would pick-and-roll the opposition into a coma? Today's Jazz are mix and match. Most players can play two or more positions. Starters don't necessarily get the most minutes. It's a mystery which player will take the shot.

But Monday was more about yesteryear than today, more about noting history than making it. Even the Jazz players seemed to be preoccupied, trailing by 15 at the half and losing by one.

Not surprisingly, Stockton was reluctant to have a ceremony to have his number retired. When contacted by the club earlier this year about the event, he consented. But he wasn't excited about holding a press conference beforehand. His objection: He did that for 19 seasons. It's not like he is still playing.

Wasn't he retired from talking about himself, too?

But before the game, he did hold a news conference, noting that he didn't believe "you should have one guy's name up there or his number. That's not what team is all about."

Not that he could do much to stop it.

"And now, the moment you have been waiting for," said owner Larry H. Miller with a flourish, as he turned the mike over to Stockton.

"You expecting a statement?" said Stockton wryly. "I feel like a dead guy — a eulogy in advance."

But it wasn't over yet; the big scene remained. When the halftime ceremony finally commenced, Stockton appeared as reluctant as ever. The crowd rose to its feet for a 45-second standing ovation before he spoke. Another ovation followed as he was introduced.