The Utah Jazz mascot is a beloved and iconic figure of the NBA team. Known as "Jazz Bear," the mascot has been entertaining fans and adding excitement to games for years. Jazz Bear is a large, furry bear who is known for his high-energy dance moves, acrobatic stunts, and comedic antics. He interacts with fans during timeouts, performs skits on the court, and even has his own segment during halftime shows. Jazz Bear is a crowd favorite and brings a sense of fun and entertainment to every game. His presence adds to the overall atmosphere and fan experience, making him an important part of the Utah Jazz organization.

Who is the utah jazz mascot

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His presence adds to the overall atmosphere and fan experience, making him an important part of the Utah Jazz organization. Whether he's shooting t-shirts into the crowd, performing daredevil stunts, or encouraging fans to cheer on the team, Jazz Bear has become an integral part of the Utah Jazz culture..

SLC Stars Mascot—Buster Bear

We’re happy to welcome Buster to the SLC Stars family! While on vacation over the summer from his home in the Oquirrh Mountains, Buster spent some quality time with his cousin, Jazz Bear.

Buster loves basketball, and he had so much fun working with Jazz Bear that instead of hibernating for the winter, he wanted to stay and become the official mascot of the Stars. Jazz Bear tried to put Buster through a rigorous mascot-training regimen, which included climbing tall ladders, sledding down steep aisles, and shooting mass amounts of silly string at unsuspecting victims.

But … Buster is afraid of heights. And steep aisles. And he prefers hugs and high-fives to confetti guns.

Buster can’t wait to meet SLC’s great fans and cheer like crazy for the Stars! Look for him in the West Valley Mall Kids Zone at every home game.

Getting to know Buster . . .

• Favorite sport: Basketball, of course!
• Favorite foods: Bit-O-Honey … Teddy Grahams
• Favorite songs: (Let Me Be Your) Teddy Bear, by Elvis Presley … Teddy Bears Picnic
• Favorite hobby: Dancing

Buster loves to visit with the fans and make public appearances. He is available for corporate events, charity functions, birthdays or other private events. A fee of $50 may be required (1 hour maximum).

The Bear facts: The Utah Jazz 16-year mascot, Bear, balances life of court jester, charity king

Utah Jazz mascot Bear has some fun with Cortney Branlette at a Walmart in West Valley last December during a Bear Hugs for Kids (his charity) Christmas shopping spree for needy children.

Jeffrey D. Allred, Deseret News

Utah Jazz mascot Bear talks with assistant Luke Larsen as he puts his head back on during a Jazz game on Wednesday.

Jeffrey D. Allred, Deseret News

Lindsi Holt gets a Bear hug at Primary Children’s Medical Center. Bear takes tons of time off the court for charity.

Jeffrey D. Allred, Deseret News

Utah Jazz mascot Bear tries to tackle a Jazz fan during a game at EnergySolutions Arena in November. Stunts like this one have provided plenty of injuries for the furry friend of the Jazz.

Jeffrey D. Allred, Deseret News

Utah Jazz mascot Bear, decked out in his custom throwback jersey, rides his motorcycle onto the floor during player introductions in December.

Jeffrey D. Allred, Deseret News

Bear hugs Gail Miller, wife of former team owner Larry Miller, giving her flowers for comfort prior to a Jazz game at EnergySolutions Arena last February. Larry Miller passed away the day before due to complications from diabetes.

Jeffrey D. Allred, Deseret News

Bear jumps off a firetruck at a West Valley Walmart last December. The manic mascot took nearly 400 needy children on a Christmas shopping spree.

Jeffrey D. Allred, Deseret News

Bear poses for the camera during a Jazz game at EnergySolutions Arena. He has only missed four games in his 16-year career in the furry suit as the Jazz mascot.

Jeffrey D. Allred, Deseret News

Bear shoots down the steps "” a signature move of his "” at EnergySolutions Arena. The mascot has many injuries resulting from his logic-defying stunts.

Jeffrey D. Allred, Deseret News

Utah Jazz mascot Bear, decked out in his custom throwback jersey.

Jeffrey D. Allred, Deseret News

SALT LAKE CITY — He speaks, and with a slight Minnesota accent — just not in public. He grew up on a farm, went to school at Moorhead State, knows what it feels like when a bursa sac bursts, knows what a bursa sac is, served in a risky military position in the Gulf War.

And, yes, he and Mama Bear have three little bears.

That you might not have known about the Utah Jazz's mascot, Bear.

You do know, perhaps even cheer or fear, how he makes a habit and a living out of jumping on a plastic sled and sliding face-first at scary speeds down steep stairs at EnergySolutions Arena.

Over the years, you've also witnessed Bear launch his furry self through rings of fire to dunk basketballs, rappel from the rafters or do the splits (on purpose).

You've watched him goof off with referees and players, spray funky materials on people, use opposing fans as skit props, land hard on his undercarriage, rev up his loud motorcycle, display much more athleticism in a 00 Jazz jersey than the only Utah player to wear that number (Greg Ostertag), and literally go to great heights to both entertain and freak out thousands of onlookers.

You've seen the Hall of Fame mascot do a whole lot of wacky stuff in action.

So, would it shock anybody to learn that one of the NBA franchise's most cherished assets — the guy who leads the crowd in mass pandemonium and does the "Y-M-C-A" while dangerously standing 20-plus feet in the air — admit that he was something between courageous and crazy when he was a cub?

Sure enough, long before he increased the worth of Silly String's stock value, Bear got a kick out doing logic-defying and dangerous acts around — and on top of — his family's farm in Minnesota.

As a kid, the little daredevil knew exactly where his dad stored the ladder and the car keys, and he wasn't afraid to put them to use.

When his parents weren't looking, of course.

"I remember," Bear fondly recalls, "almost once a week climbing up our house, or the warehouse or the barn, or climbing the garage or a tree."

The climbing conquests weren't the only way he drove his parents wild. He'd also sneak into their cars and drive around in a nearby field.

All before turning 11.

Bear laughs about having no supervision in his youth.

Go ahead, cringe.

"They were just not able to keep up with me," he says of his dearly departed parents. "I was pretty OCD, ACD, AC/DC, ADD, all that stuff. I was just pretty hyperactive."

Just so happens he's made a career out of taking those wild antics to another level. His mischievous farm-boy fun proved to be hands-on training.

"I have the capacity now and the job," he explains, "to act like a 10-year-old and get paid for it."

Sure beats the sanitation gig Bear jokingly tells some people he has in an effort to maintain his cherished anonymity.

Bear didn't grow up thinking he'd become Bear.

In college, he worked in a gymnastics gym, even though he admits to having more farmer in him than gymnast. One day at work, somebody from a new Continental Basketball Association team called the Fargo Fever popped in and asked if anyone would be interested in becoming the North Dakota squad's mascot.

The athletic Moorhead State student couldn't resist the adrenaline rush or the cash: $25 per game. "Being a poor college student, I was, like, '25 bucks!?' Man, I'll do it."

And that's how Thermo the Bobcat was born.

With a "bulky and cumbersome" suit — a far cry from his customized and movement-friendly Bear costume — he specialized in prank falls, beating himself up and, yes, sledding down steep stairs.

Thermo was a hit — until he got fired. The Fever feared he'd kill himself or someone else.

"They thought," he says, "I was a liability hazard."

Publicity over his dismissal actually helped him get a gig in Manitoba, Canada. The Winnipeg Thunder told him, "You're kind of what we're looking for — somebody a little bit more crazy."

And that's how Kaboom the Polar Bear was born.

Kaboom finished the season and returned to school, but soon his phone rang again. On the other line — the U.S. military. His new job was quite a bit more dangerous than being a mascot. The National Guard volunteer was assigned with the risky task of being a forward observer in Operation Desert Storm. His "13 Fox Trot" unit bravely scouted ahead of the front line, spotting and calling artillery to help protect and guide the troops behind them.

Dangerous, sure. But that was part of the thrill for Bear.

"You'd see the rounds come in, you'd have to adjust your artillery to hit something," he says. "It was kind of fun. It was like a video game."

After returning from war, he considered becoming a career Army guy. But another call — this one from a hoops team called the Sioux Falls Skyforce — convinced him otherwise. He showed them his highlight tape and was hired.

And that's how both Thunder the Wolf and his idea of becoming a professional mascot were born.

From there, he sent out resumes to all NBA teams, and his timing couldn't have been better. The Jazz, the Sacramento Kings and the Seattle SuperSonics were all hiring mascots and held a combined tryout in Salt Lake City. Still a poor college student, he almost sold his truck to buy round-trip airfare to Utah. His thinking was, "This is something I really need to do to see if I was meant to do, and I'll kick myself if I don't do it."

He didn't have to sell the truck, after all. The Jazz called him just as he was searching the classified ads for a listing phone number, offering to pay his way. They had a hunch he was their kind of crazy, too.

Only eight of 25 applicants showed up for the tryout at Westminster College. Two things from the experience stick out in Bear's mind: 1. He left believing the others were so good he didn't have a chance, particularly not against an Arizona State tumbler and an out-of-the-gym dunker. And, 2. Being the last guy to perform and wear the gorilla costume wasn't exactly ideal. The foam pad inside of the mask had collected moisture. Lots of moisture. "It was like somebody squeezed a sponge over my face and it was all their sweat."

(Bear has nine costumes because he sweats through his 30-pound fur furnaces so fast, so he can laugh about it now.)

Bear also reminisces about getting a call-back. For the second tryout, three wannabe court jesters had to entertain people at Valley Fair Mall while wearing a Barney suit. Judges wanted to see how well they interacted with crowds when not wowing them with their athleticism.

Bear took his turn in the purple suit and then returned to North Dakota, again doubting that he'd become Bear (or Barney). A few phone calls later, though, and he had his choice of mascot jobs in Utah, Sacramento and Seattle.

Stunned and unsure about leaving the security of his small town, he didn't respond to any of the offers. Fans can thank Grant Harrison, then the Jazz's director of promotions, for convincing him to take the job in Utah.

And that's how Bear, whose new wage was a bit sweeter than $25 a game, was born.

Bear debuted at the Delta Center on Nov. 4, 1994, rappelling down from a catwalk high above the court (a stunt now banned by the NBA) to introduce himself. He chuckles about an early review: "Bear appears to be in dire need of Ritalin," Deseret News columnist Doug Robinson wrote. "He possesses serious energy. Winnie the Pooh, he's not."

And thank goodness for that. Christopher Robin's chubbier friend would struggle to strut around on stilts, walk on handrails, do one-paw handstands atop a 21-foot ladder (his newest trick) or bike off a ramp at the bottom of stairs.

And Pooh would never think about soaring through the arena on a zip line or sledding through a chute from the upper bowl to the court below — stunts Bear is daydreaming about trying.

He's tamer than he was 16 years ago, Bear insists. No Ritalin required anymore for the NBA's longest-tenured mascot (at least the man behind the mask). But he still gets a rush out of making crowds go nuts doing his trademark stunts that many cuter and cuddlier mascots wouldn't dare try.

"You get down and you look at everybody, and the crowd's cheering; it's euphoric," Bear admits. "It's so fun. It's a good time. I wouldn't know what to do without it."

By the way, Bear hopes not to find out how being without that energy surge feels like for at least a few more years — health permitting. He's injured just about every body part, it seems. Earlier this season, he broke a big toe, and he recently pulled a quadricep muscle, and then there was the time a bursa sac in his elbow burst during a game, requiring its removal and stitches before he returned for action. That night. Bear is from the John Stockton mold — he doesn't miss games, only four in 16 seasons, with two absences happening because he attended his parents' funerals.

Bear's intense drive is simple: "I enjoy what I do. I like being able to take the costume and the character and give back to the community. I just feel part of the community. I feel part of the team."

There's another big thing Bear wouldn't want to do without. Along with the 50-plus home games he attends, Bear makes about 250 out-of-arena appearances. About 95 percent of his visits are for philanthropic purposes — to spread cheer at places like Primary Children's Medical Center, to help children in need get Christmas presents (Bear Hugs for Kids) and for dozens and dozens of other worthwhile causes.

The Jazz's goodwill ambassador, he is.

"I think the most important part of my job is doing charity work, doing things with children and trying to be part of the community," he says. "But all of it is fun."

Fun for the whole community, which is why two different governors honored him with a Jazz Bear Day in Utah and why the wildly popular mammal has probably signed more autographs than all of the current players combined.

Per mascot tradition, Bear prides himself on keeping his inner-Clark Kent secret. (The newspaper agreed to protect Bear's real name, mostly out of fear of Silly String repercussions.)

Bear tells most who ask that he works for the Jazz's game-operations staff, which, unlike his sanitation sensationalism, is the truth. The unmasked man just doesn't reveal that he's the one diving into the stands, walking on his hands, slinging balls to fans or tackling guys in sumo outfits.

"Believe it or not," Bear said, "(I) still have friends, really good friends, that don't know what I do."

His wife and their three young daughters know. But he says they're "under sworn secrecy never to tell anybody," which they haven't.

They've seen what the old farmer from Minnesota can do to people with aerosol cans.

Because he's out and about usually six days a week during the Jazz season, Bear jokes that he spends more time with his assistant, Luke Larsen, than with his own family.

"During the season a couple of years ago," he says, "my middle daughter asked my wife if I still lived in the house."

That's why Bear hibernates with his family in the summer.

"We try to take time off," he says, "because we have to reintroduce ourselves, and (I) say, 'Hi, I'm your father. I'd like to get to know you again.' "

After that part's over, Papa Bear, Mama Bear and the three little bears all grab their sleds and head for the stairs.

Or so you might imagine.

Utah Jazz’s mascot continues to be a Bear about town

MINNEAPOLIS, MN - JANUARY 12: Jazz Bear, mascot for the Utah Jazz rubs a fans head during the game between the Minnesota Timberwolves and the New York Knicks on January 12, 2018 at the Target Center in Minneapolis, Minnesota. (Photo by Hannah Foslien/Getty Images) /

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Reviews for "How the Utah Jazz Mascot Captivated Fans and Became an Icon"

1. Emily - 1/5

I was really disappointed with "Who is the Utah Jazz Mascot". The documentary failed to provide any meaningful insights into the mascot's history or significance. Instead, it consisted of random footage of the mascot doing mundane activities like dancing at games and interacting with fans. I was hoping to learn more about the cultural relevance of the mascot and its impact on the team and community, but this documentary left me feeling unfulfilled. Overall, I found it to be a shallow and superficial look into the world of the Utah Jazz mascot.

2. Jason - 2/5

As a basketball fan, I was looking forward to learning more about the Utah Jazz mascot through this documentary. Unfortunately, I found it to be quite boring and lacking in substance. While it briefly touched on the origins of the mascot, it failed to delve deeper into the character's role within the team and the community. The documentary felt more like a promotional video for the mascot rather than a comprehensive exploration of its significance. I was disappointed by the lack of depth and would not recommend this documentary to fellow fans.

3. Sarah - 2/5

I felt like "Who is the Utah Jazz Mascot" missed the mark. The documentary seemed more interested in showcasing the mascot's antics and entertaining the audience rather than providing any real insight. It lacked a cohesive narrative and felt more like a disjointed collection of footage. I was expecting a more in-depth look into the mascot's creation and its connection to the Utah Jazz team, but instead, I got a mediocre film that failed to engage me or offer any substantial information.

4. Michael - 1/5

I was absolutely underwhelmed by "Who is the Utah Jazz Mascot". The documentary seemed like a missed opportunity to shed light on the mascot's cultural significance and its impact on the team and community. Instead, it focused on mundane aspects of the mascot's daily life, offering no real depth or exploration. The lack of a strong narrative and meaningful interviews made it difficult to stay engaged throughout. Overall, I found this documentary to be a major letdown and would not recommend it to anyone looking for a more comprehensive understanding of the Utah Jazz mascot.

Meet the Man Behind the Mask: The Utah Jazz Mascot's Secret Identity Revealed