The shadow of the year-round, snow-capped Rocky Mountains. The modern history of a no-nonsense franchise built of the broad shoulders of its home-grown power forwards. The next generation of one of the greatest of all-time. Karl Malone seemed to be carved out of those mountainous shadows - his feathery jumper belying the raw power that could’ve forged its valleys on a ravenous path to the rim. Carlos Boozer fits the mold Malone broke - his affinity for using the soft touch of his off-hand around the rim wrapping a steam engine’s biceps capable of squeezing the air out of every rebou ...