Another cruel chapter of a tale of two teams was slammed into the books Saturday evening at the Delta Center, the plot now becoming as lopsided as a Morganna cartwheel, as a set of Firestones, as a Bryon Russell jump shot.
 
The lopsided numbers on the scoreboard: Kings 114, Jazz 90.
 
More lopsided truth: The Jazz quite plainly had their confidence, their spirits, their defense, their heads and their butts handed to them for the second time in three days by Sacramento.
 
The uneven mess on the court underscored one desperate thing: The Jazz are no match -- home or away -- for the better teams in the Western Conference (they are 1-10 against them), and certainly not the Kings, who padded their best record in the NBA (33-10) by crushing a once-proud team in a building where it not so long ago was nearly unbeatable.
 
Anybody remember?
 
The comparisons and contrasts of the Jazz and the Kings, the disparate directions in which they are headed, make their meetings worth measuring.
 
The Jazz, the crumbling old guard, the longtime power that makes it to the playoffs every year the way the planet turns on its axis, hanging onto whatever is left, attempting to blend in a bunch of youngsters and journeymen with fading Hall of Famers on the fly.
 
The Kings, the up-and-comers who have discovered new weaponry via clever draft picks, trades and free-agent signings, most of them bringing in talented, young players who are good and hungry, whose lessons yet to learn include beating the Lakers in the playoffs and beating most anyone else on the road.
 
They appear to be mastering that last part fast and furiously, at least against the Jazz.