Like so many of you, I suspect, Larry Miller has been on my mind the past few days.

Lovable Larry. The Larry who wore his heart on his sleeve. The Larry who was a millionaire many times over who never forgot what it meant to be of limited means.

The Larry who managed to do something few in the community truly have, unify it.

What if a 40-year-old Larry Miller hadn't found a way — or even wanted — to buy the Utah Jazz? What would this town be like?

Having ridden the Utah Jazz roller coaster nearly as long as I've lived in Utah, I shudder to think about it. We've gone as the Jazz have gone, whether euphoric in good times (John Stockton sends the Utah Jazz to the NBA finals!) or absolutely devastated, thanks to that !@#$%&* Michael Jordan.

We were all in this thing together, which is seldom the case in this community. Utahns have a tendency to pick camps and dig in their heels. It's why the University of Utah-Brigham Young University rivalry can be so ugly. Others draw lines along religious, political and moral ideologies. It can be like herding cats.

No, not everyone in Utah is a Jazz fan, but I'd venture that more people are than are not.

The Jazz give us a common language. When those men in shorts do great things — like beat the Lakers — our collective mental health gets a boost. When they lose to a lesser team, like Oklahoma City, it ruins our week.

The beauty of the Jazz is, it is what it is. It's the big show in our own backyard. It isn't political and it isn't religious, although some fanatical supporters might disagree. It's the one thing you can safely talk about without fear of someone taking offense.

It's not just about cheering for the home team, though. It's the other superstars in the league that we are fortunate to see when they come to play the Jazz. In how many U.S. cities this size would you have that opportunity? Precious few, I suspect.

At times, the off-court drama surrounding the Jazz becomes the source of our entertainment, whether it was the Larry Miller-Karl Malone spats or whether Kyle Korver pays attention to those young women (and not-so young women) who buy those Mrs. Korver T-shirts from Masha Kirilenko's high-end store? (What I've always wondered was whether Kyle has purchased one of those shirts for his mother as a lark?)

In major league cities — cities that have three or four professional sports franchises — there is a similar degree of fascination with coaches, players and their families. Here, with just the one major sports franchise, it's magnified. We intensely follow the pregnancies of the players' wives, the illnesses of family members and scrutinize any business they may start.