Jen Clarke – Page 7 – Memphis Flyer

Nashville has treated Memphis like Little Brother for as long as I can remember, so sometimes it’s easy to forget that Memphis is the bigger city — just barely. It won’t be that way for much longer, according to 2014 population data recently released by the Census Bureau. Right now, Memphians outnumber Nashvillians by only about 20,000. Nashville’s population is growing and ours is just … sitting there. It dropped by .25 percent last year — not a lot, but obviously we would prefer that the population grow, not shrink.

So, we’ve got some work to do. But we already knew that. Of course, the public policy and urban planning experts in our daily paper’s comment section claim to have exclusive insights into where folks are going and why, but that’s a topic for another day.

So Nashville’s finally poised to surpass Memphis. Big deal. Enjoy this cookie as a token of my not caring.

As a Memphian, I know I’m supposed to roll my eyes and say, “Ugh, Nashville … the worst! More like Trashville, right? ‘It City’? Are you sure they didn’t mean to say, ‘It’s shitty?'”

Hating on Nashville is as much a part of life in Memphis as jaywalking, waiting in line at Jerry’s, or getting heat exhaustion at the Elvis Week candlelight vigil. Rumor has it there’s a secret ingredient in our delicious water that allows the Nashville hate to flow more freely.

Meh. I can’t do it. I don’t hate Nashville anymore. In fact, to paraphrase one of my favorite Don Draper lines, I don’t think about it at all.

Sorry, no time. Too busy enjoying Memphis.

Standing on the top floor of a BBQ Fest mega-tent, sipping a Memphis Made kÖlsch as the sun slipped behind our giant glass pyramid newly filled with alligators and tourists and hunting supplies, the last thing on my mind was “Oh man, I wonder what Nashville is doing right now!”

Clewisleake | Dreamstime.com

When I was waving my Growl Towel and yelling “FIRST TEAM DE-FENSE” at the tippy-tip-top of FedExForum, I never paused to imagine what the fans chant at Predators games. If they chant anything at all.

As I bounce from barre class to brunch at Second Line to a hair appointment at Gould’s or a matinee at Studio on the Square, I don’t ask myself what in Nashville compares to Overton Square.

Remind me, why are we “rivals” again? The two cities have little in common beyond the highway that connects them. Nashville is “country” and Memphis is “soul.” Nashville’s brand-new, never-worn, and Memphis is gently used one-of-a-kind vintage. Emphasis on one-of-a-kind. Think about it: What do they have that we don’t have or even want for that matter? An eponymous TV show? Been there, done that, would rather not talk about it. Jack White? By all means, they can have him — and Reese Witherspoon and Nicole Kidman too. A neighborhood called SoBro? Nah, bruh. The Titans? LOL. Trader Joe’s? It’s just a grocery store, y’all. Yeah, I said it. (If anyone from TJ’s happens to be reading this: Just kidding! We’d love a location in Memphis. Pretty please. ASAP. Thanks.)

Theodore Roosevelt once said, “Comparison is the thief of joy.” As a city whose unofficial motto is “Memphis vs. Errrbody,” we could probably benefit from President Roosevelt’s advice. Let’s compare Memphis today to five, 10 years ago. Maybe the population is stagnant, but Memphis is growing in a different way. And it’s been a thrill to witness. Entire neighborhoods are being reborn. We’re figuring out how to turn old, forgotten things like the Tennessee Brewery, Hotel Chisca, and the Crosstown building into new, useful things.

Every time I cross a “New Restaurant To Try” off my list, another one opens. More touring bands and musicians are playing in Memphis instead of just flying over en route to bigger cities. We’ve got a basketball team that owns the fourth-longest streak of postseason appearances in the NBA. We even have a respectable — nay, good — college football team now! Around this time next year we’ll have an IKEA, an H&M, and a Cheesecake Factory. Scoff all you want at chain corporate retail and dining, but the money their employees earn spends just the same as anybody else’s. Those brands would not be expanding here if they didn’t see potential.

Potential, in Memphis? Believe it! Once we learn how to enjoy having nice things instead of waiting for them to be taken away from us, watch out. The New York Times might not be ready to christen Memphis the “It City,” but that’s not really our style. It kinda sounds like a jinx, to be honest.

Memphis doesn’t need a rival. The past is our only rival, and we’re kicking its ass. Congrats to you, Nashville. You’re off the hook.

Jen Clarke is an unapologetic Memphian and digital marketing strategist.

I saw a fantastic play at the Orpheum last month.

Well, in the interest of full disclosure, I saw about three-fourths of a fantastic play. I left once I figured out how it was going to end. Because, you know, traffic and stuff.

Larry Kuzniewski

Hannibal Buress was hilarious at Minglewood Hall a few weeks ago. From what I saw, at least. I left early because it was raining. Gotta beat those crowds, right?

I know what you’re probably thinking. “Wow, this woman is a real piece of work. Why go at all, if you’re not going to stay until the end? That’s dumb. And rude.”

Yup. Sure is.

Other than the part about Buress being hilarious, I made that stuff up. I would never leave a play before the final curtain. I wouldn’t leave a concert before the house lights went up.

And I sure as hell wouldn’t leave a Grizzlies game early — and neither should you. Especially when they’re winning. Especially during the playoffs.

Despite five straight years of playoff appearances, the Grizzlies haven’t been rewarded with the respect they deserve beyond the hometown. Instead, we get to read yet another round of articles titled “Don’t Sleep On the Grizzlies.”

Because “It’s a small market.” Because “People want to watch superstars.” Because “They play ugly, old-school basketball.”

Blah, blah, blah.

Memphis’ roots in the NBA may be shallow, but the city’s relationship with that orange ball is deep. If Z-Bo’s twerk moves in the post, Marc’s off-the-charts hoops acumen, and the Grindfather’s general chaos aren’t entertaining enough for you, well, I don’t know what to tell you. Sorry your life is so boring.

Here in We Don’t Bluff City, we know the Grizzlies belong. But some fans aren’t helping our Beale Street Bears prove it when they can’t even stay in the building for the full 48 minutes. Let other teams’ fans look like jerks on TV. We can be better.

The families who leave at halftime to put the kids in bed? I get it. Bless them and their little future season ticket holders. They weren’t the ones filing out of the Grindhouse during Game 2 against Portland while several minutes remained in the fourth quarter.

As I stood to let an older couple out of my row, I secretly rooted for the Blazers to mount a comeback. Not enough to win it, of course — just enough to teach those fans a lesson. To remind them that in the NBA — as Kevin Garnett once famously declared — anything is possible. He may not have looked like much against the Grizzlies, but Damian Lillard has killed before. (Just ask the 2014 Houston Rockets.)

I don’t remember much about Miami’s improbable Game 6 comeback in the 2013 NBA Finals, but I sure remember shaking my head at all the Heat fans shown pounding on the doors and pleading to be allowed back into AmericanAirlines Arena. Think they still bail out early?

It pays to stick around for the final buzzer, if only for the sheer joy of the glorious, quintessentially Memphis moments that follow: Streamers rain from the rafters, and DJ Khaled’s voice fills the building, declaring that all our beloved Grizzlies do is win, win, win, no matter what. The sound of thousands of elated fans pouring into the lobby, high-fiving amid chants of “Z-BO! Z-BO!” is as sweet as a giggling baby. If I could bottle that feeling, I’d be an instant bajillionaire.

What’s the rush? Downtown Memphis does not suddenly become New Delhi after a Grizzlies game. We may not know what the lever next to the steering wheel does, other than make a weird clicking sound, but we have it pretty good when it comes to traffic. “Beating the traffic” saves you about 10 minutes. You’ll spend more time waiting for a table at Babalu on a Saturday night than you will sitting in post-game traffic.

Oh, but you have to work in the morning? So do all the other 18,000-plus people here. That’s why coffee exists. There are three locally owned coffee shops on Cooper Street alone.

FedExForum is vaulting up the ranks of the league’s best playoff environments, thanks to a lot of dedicated people who work their asses off. They’re on the court with GRIZZLIES on their chests and numbers on their backs. They’re playing soundbytes and dancing at center court. They’re sharing Zach Randolph’s Deep Dish Thoughts and dropping giant banners to proclaim “WE GRIND HERE.” They’re growling those three magic words, “SHOT CLOCK … VIOLATED!” They’re flipping off trampolines in Elvis costumes. They’re scrambling to get a growl towel on every chair before the doors open. Do them the honor of sticking around for the whole show.