Archive for December, 2012

We won!

Yeah, “we.”  Don’t give me any of this jibberjabber about how fans can’t say “we” when their team wins.  Especially when you live in a cold-ass town like Minneapolis.  And yeah, I get that I didn’t throw an alley-oop to Andrei Kirilenko on Saturday.  I’m not a moron.  And I didn’t dance the Oppan Gangnam Style for an hour for a Klondike Bar like that poor son of a bitch at the game.  (Dude, you know those things cost like $2, right?)  What I did do is sit through practically a decade of god-awful basketball to get here.  I earned it.  We all did.

I had 18th row seats to the game, which is the closest I’ve ever been without sneaking in.  One of the weird things about being at a Timberwolves’ game is, you feel strangely out of touch.  Ricky Rubio didn’t play last night because of back spasms, but the Target Center is a cave and gets crappy cell phone reception so I never found out until the third quarter.  My friend and I kept theorizing about why Adelman wasn’t playing Rubio.  “Do you think he’s sitting him the whole first half so he could play the entire second half?  Is his beard not up to par?”

Kevin Love Free Throw

From my 18th row seat as Kevin Love shoots a free throw. (JJ Barea is actual size.)

Saturday also marked the return of former Timberwolf Michael Beasley.  He played ten minutes and shot 1-8 for two points.  If I were B-Easy I’d be clipping coupons right now because his career ain’t looking so hot.  Remember a few years back when the big debate was “Who should be the #1 draft pick: Derrick Rose or Michael Beasley?”  That was a real thing.  Today that makes about as much sense as “Would you rather receive an hour-long Swedish massage or have army ants crawl up your butt-crack?”  Another former Wolf from last year, Wes Johnson, didn’t fare much better.  He just sat there with his creepy Stepford Wife smile and zero minutes.

I actually feel bad for those guys.  They got absolutely no fanfare on their first return to the Target Center.  I feel like they deserved at least something, so I wrote them a haiku:

Oh, Wes and Beas
Maybe it’s time to try golf?
You’re not good at this

So that’s it for the Wolves for the rest of the year.  We’ll see everybody again in 2013!  Hopefully our Puppies will make a resolution to make their free throws and never get injured ever again.

A gangly moose man like me has no right criticizing anybody’s physical movements ever.

I’ve tripped up the stairs before.  One time I knocked over a $2,000 display of Precious Moments figurines in a drug store because my feet disagreed about what the function of feet were.  I accidentally gave my wife a black eye this Christmas when I threw a no-look doggy toy pass to my dachshund.  I’m on Weight Watchers.

But what in the holy hell is Kevin Love doing!?

Our franchise player had 7 points on 3-14 shooting against the Rockets.  He hit 0-7 three-pointers.  0-7!!!  Do you realize that we could have literally replaced Kevin Love with anybody in the world and they would have shot as well as he did tonight from the 3pt line?  LITERALLY ANYBODY.  The Fox Sports North Girls, Fats Domino, Hagar The Horrible, Glenn Danzig, Doink The Clown, an LOLcat with a basketball-cannon.  Maybe after like the fifth miss you ought to think to yourself “Hey, maybe I’m trying a little too hard right now considering I just came back from a broken hand after my manatee fisting injury or whatever the hell I did.  Maybe I’ll just dial it back a little and try a granny shot from two feet out.

This is not an anti-Kevin Love blog.  I want him to be everything he puffed his chest out about.  It’s hard to swallow his play this season after his contract debacle and his “I believe in surrounding greatness with greatness” speech, but if he returns to 2011-12 form I’ll be in the front row wearing his jersey with the Fox Sports North Girls.  Does anybody have front row tickets?  Does anybody have the Fox Sports North Girls’ numbers?

But we didn’t just lose this game.  James Harden killed us.  That dude is stupid good.  That’s two games in a row now that we’ve had a chance to win late in the fourth and the opponents’ superstar player went off on us.  How good is Harden?  Their second best player is Judge Reinhold and they beat us.

Have you ever seen Omer Asik and Judge Reinhold in the same room together?

Have you ever seen Omer Asik and Judge Reinhold in the same room together?

This was supposed to be a rebuilding year for the Rockets.  Instead, they pulled off a blockbuster trade and are actually better than they were last year.  How did they do that?  That’s not the Timberwolves rebuilding playbook at all!  This is how you do it, amateurs:

1) Surround your disillusioned superstar with a bunch of people you found at Office Max.

2) Trade your superstar for a bag of Funions and an authentic Yeti pelt.

3) Lose all your draft picks for five years because of an illegal signing.  After that draft Jonny Flynn, Wes Johnson and Engelbert Humperdinck Jr.

4) Forget that you have a basketball team.

5) Go Lynx!

6) Hey, the Heat are in town.

7) Stumble upon a superstar player.

8) Repeat.

This Saturday I’m going to the Wolves/Suns game at the Target Center to watch the epic return of Michael Beasley and Wes Johnson!  Will Beasley smoke weed the entire game?  Will Wes get to play at all?  Will I be able to pee in that disgusting communal urinal troth without crying?  Stay tuned!

Gee, it sure would have been nice to have had our superstar player last night.

I hate Kobe Bryant, but you can’t stop that man from playing.  You could cut his head off and dangle it from the Hollywood sign and he’d still find a way to Headless Horseman to the game and have 33 points.  When Kobe retires eventually, somebody’s going to tap his knee with a tiny hammer and he’s going to crumble into a pile of dust from the collective strain of ignoring injuries for 20 years.

Kevin Love is the opposite of Kobe Bryant.  I can’t count how many big games he’s missed over the years due to hands, thumbs, knees, voodoo curses, Breaking Bad season finales and “flu-like symptoms.”  God help him when he gets a real flu.  He’ll miss a minimum of five years.

This time, he had an eye injury.  Sure!  Why not?  Didn’t he watch The Three Stooges ever?  Everybody knows you put your hand up straight on your nose and block that shit.

I think us fans are just tired of his surprise injuries.  So, to combat this, I consulted the tea leaves (I went to Starbucks) and made some predictions about what injuries Kevin Love will sustain the rest of the year:

JAN 17 – Flesh-eating virus

JAN 23 – Arm stuck in candy machine

FEB 1 – Amnesia

FEB 23 – Server at T.G.I. Friday’s made him feel bad

MARCH 1 – Rickets

MARCH 24 – Shark bite

MARCH 31 – Beach ball to the face (Damnit Kev, stay away from the beaches!)

APRIL 3 – Gets trapped in the astral plane

APRIL 4 – Knuckle push-ups while bowling with Andrew Bynum

APRIL 12 – Fork to the eye

APRIL 13 – Yeast infection

APRIL  14 – Fork to the other eye

APRIL 15 – Hunger-like symptoms

APRIL 16 – Fork to the first eye again

APRIL 17 – The farts

APRIL 20  – Falls off couch watching the NBA playoffs at home

Kevin Love hurts himself bathing.  Photo from jocksandstilettojill.com

Kevin Love hurts himself bathing. Photo from jocksandstilettojill.com

JJ Barea, you sweet little Puerto Rican prince, you!

Okay, okay…I’m a hypocrite.  Barea’s made me curse more times than Christian Bale at a sound guy convention.  When he bounces around like a pinball in the lane I just want to shake him and yell “You’re 4’2″!  What are you doing!  You should be a jockey!”

But holy moley, did he vindicate himself last night.  14 of his 18 points came in the fourth quarter, including two threes in a row.  Against the best team in the NBA.  Who were riding a 12 game winning streak.

So congratulations, Jose Juan Barea…I award you with my “Favorite Timberwolf of the Week Award.”

This award entitles you to a few gifts:

1) A week’s worth of unlimited shoulder rides.  (You’ll finally see the world!)

2)  $5 gift card to Chipotle.

3) One free Middle Age warrior tattoo (Sorry, Pekovic has had this award for a while now.  Tattoo will also be done prison-style by me, with a pen.)

All of these wonderful gifts are yours, pending your signing of my handwritten document swearing that you will never make a stupid basketball mistake again.  In the event of said mistake, I am then entitled to:

1) A week’s worth of unlimited shoulder rides from you.  (Suck it up, Tiny…you’re a pro athlete!)

2) One free hug from your wife, Miss Universe Zuleyka Rivera.

3) Another longer, more heartfelt hug from your wife.

That said, how amazing is it that we beat Oklahoma City on national television?  This was the first time the Wolves have been on TNT in SIX YEARS!  The world was a different place!  The economy was still fine as far as we knew it, smart phones were just a glimmer in Steve Jobs super-villain eyes and I lived in a shit-hole hovel that couldn’t convince an IHOP waitress to come over, much less Miss Universe Zuleyka Rivera.  (Don’t mess up, JJ.)

I think I know why we beat them.  Partially it was the combo of Kevin Love’s big game, JJ’s fourth quarter heroics and Pekovic’s slap-down of Serge Ibaka.  But really, it was because the Thunder wore their dark-blue alternate jerseys last night.  Alternate jerseys, a clever ploy by the NBA to up sales, are cursed.  Look no further than our own ill-fated Muskies jerseys from last year.  Not only did we lose most of our games wearing those god-awful rags, but Ricky Rubio went down for the season in one.  I’d rather see a crowd of screaming Deliverance extras burning an effigy of me on my front lawn than see these jerseys again.

I'd rather see a crowd of screaming people burning an effigy of me on my front lawn than these jerseys again.  Photo from heythatsmine-bigd.blogspot.com

Let us never speak of them again. Photo from heythatsmine-bigd.blogspot.com

I really like the Oklahoma City Thunder.  They’re young, out-of-this-world talented and have a stellar attitude.  And they’re from a small market that has a ravenous fan-base.  They’re like the San Antonio Spurs, if they didn’t make you want to eat your own face out of sheer boredom.

But today?  Suck it, Thunder!  Oh, Kevin Martin was hurt?  You really going to talk to the Minnesota Timberwolves about injuries?  We are the most injured team in the history of the NBA. Rick Adelman considered hiring a necromancer to conjure George Mikan’s bones from the grave.  Our center for a week was a cardboard cut-out of Jared from Subway.  We won!

Next up is another super tough team.  We play the New York Knicks and a guy named after a candy bar.  Fortunately, Rick Adelman is a big fan of my blog.  Yo Rick, I know how we beat these guys.  Before the game, have JJ roll into the NY locker room like Sonic the Hedgehog and swap out their jerseys with the Muskies ones.  We will win by a minimum of 45 points.  You’re welcome.  Yes, I’ll consider assistant coach duties.

Dear LeBron James,

For a really famous guy, PR just isn’t your thing.

Everybody knows you’re already one of the greatest basketball players ever.  We also know you’re kind of a bumbling dickhead too.

But last year you won an NBA championship.  You validated yourself.  Good job!  That must have felt nice.  You could go to sleep on your giant bed made of money and basketballs and paper mache replicas of yourself (that can’t be comfortable) and know that you’re better than everybody else.

But dude, it’s time to shave your head.

Seriously LeBron, how many “yes men” have you surrounded yourself with?  Has nobody told you?  That giant headband is fooling nobody.  It just keeps getting bigger and bigger every year.  Your hairline looks like it’s an ice cap drifting farther way from the Arctic every day.  Polar bears and Santa’s elves are dying, LeBron.  Put an end to their misery!

Headband Progression

The thing that I don’t even understand is why you haven’t done it already?  Black men have been blessed with the ability to look super cool with a shaved head.  It’s a gift.  Take it!  I’m bald too, but I’m a gangly white dude.  Until about five years ago, white guys couldn’t even shave their heads for fear of looking too American History X.  To this day, I can’t have more than two hairless white friends at a time.  If any more go bald, they’re either going to have to go straight-up math teacher/Bozo the Clown or find a new entourage.

Construction has already begun on LeBron’s next headband. Photo from oregonlive.com

You’re almost 28.  It sucks, but that’s just when it happens.  And I figure you have a few more options then normal people, considering you’re shut-in, pee-in-a-jar level rich.  So allow me to suggest a few:

1) Go the John Travolta route and paint your hairline on.  PRO – Will fool a few dumb people.  CON – Paint will drip down your face like Tammy Fae Baker after a marathon.

2) Get hair-plugs.  PRO – Will fool a few dumb people.  CON – Can cause hiccups.  For real.  It’s hard to make free-throws while breathing into a paper bag.

3) Pay yes men to tell you how great your hair looks.  PRO – You’re familiar with this approach.  CON – Will have to constantly replace said yes men due to blindness caused by your forehead glare.

4) Wear a Rick James wig. PRO – You’ve apparently already done this as well.  CON – Nothing.

5) Make the bald/afro look popular.  PRO – Millions of people will look like they have a nerf ball with a hole burnt through it on their head.  CON – People would call you LeBonbon.

LeBron James in 2014.  Photo from http://beermugsports.com

NBA2K13 cover – George Jefferson Edition.  Photo from beermugsports.com

6) Shave your head, dummy!

Sincerely,
Mike Brody
Timberwolves fan

P.S. It’s not just you –  An Open Letter To Keith Morris: Please Shave Your Head.

“Big Baby” is the perfect nickname for Glen Davis.  He’s doughy, he’s whiny and he looks like a giant baby a la “Honey I Blew Up The Kid.”

Oh yeah, I could stand to lose a few pounds myself.  I have a built in life-saver around my waist and a hedgehog bit my arm-fat yesterday.  I’m not going to go into detail, but I swear to God that’s true.  And I’m bald and tall so I look like Bull from Night Court mixed with a sea buoy.  But hey, I’m not a professional athlete, am I?  How is it possible to be a fat basketball player?  All they do is run marathons, climb Mount Everest every week and pay $100 million a year on lypo-suction chest-pump surgery. (I might be slightly misinformed).  He must have to eat 40,000 calories a day to stay in that shape.  Do they give him a doughnut for every point he scores?  What’s he going to look like when he quits playing?  Marlo Brando would tell him to hit the treadmill.

Well, he got a lot of damn doughnuts last night because he torched us for 28 points.

Glen Davis battles for a rebound. Photo from gamesradar.com

Pathetic.  We weren’t supposed to lose to Orlando.  We had this game won.  We dominated most of the first three quarters it seemed.  And then something happened.  Kevin Love did or said something to Glen Davis.  Maybe he threatened to take his Hungry Man TV dinner away because he went nuts and we just fell apart.

You know it’s a disappointing loss when the only thing that makes you feel better is talking shit about the town.

Orlando!  Nothing but strip malls and swamps.

Here’s my impression of every conversation that’s taken place in Orlando ever:

“Hey Pa, how you gonna cheer for the OR-LAN-DO Magic now that a gator bit off both your arms?”

“Would you believe it, Junior?  Glen Davis himself donated 45% of his butt-fat to create new arms for me.  That’s 500 lbs of new arms!  Yeehaw!”

Okay, I’ve never been to Orlando.

Or even Florida.

Let me cope how I need to cope.

pekovic

Photo from stuffpoint.com

Minnesota Timberwolves big man Nikola Pekovic had a career high 31 points last night against the New Orleans Hornets.  I caught up with the 6’11”, 290 lb Montenegro Mountain after the game and chatted with him about basketball, life and what it’s like being Non from Superman 2.

MB: So, Nikola…how does it feel to come in on a night where Kevin Love clearly struggled once again and have a career night?

NP: It….very….good.  Me…strong.

MB: Um…okay.  How do you feel about the Timberwolves chances for the playoffs?  You guys are currently in the 6th seed right now, but there’s still 3/4 of the season left to go.

NP:  Chance…feel…nice.  Ha!  I’m only kidding, of course.  Why does no one think I’m capable of stringing together multi-syllable words into a meaningful sentence? Not to sound supercilious, but I do have a degree in Bio-engineering, from the University of Montenegro.  Anyway, personally I do believe we are performing quite well this season.  We have truly over-achieved through bleak circumstances and once all our pieces fall back into place, we have a really stupendous chance to make a push in the playoffs.

MB: Oh, phew.  You really had me for a second there.  Anyway, you have a really gnarly tattoo of some kind of warrior on your arm.  What’s that all about?

NP:  Naturally, the cape represents the cloak of illusion that blankets us all from birth.  The shield is the ego, which we all use to cover ourselves from the real truth of existence.  The broadsword is the weapon we use to cut through the five disturbing human emotions as Buddha tells us in the Dharma.

MB:  Right.  That’s what I was thinking too.

NP:  Also, I just really like skulls.

Photo by Rocky Widner/NBAE via Getty Images

MB:  Wow, there really is more to you then I ever imagined.  I gotta be honest, I just thought you were a big, awesome brute.  But you’re really wise and sensitive.

NP:  Thank you.  Really, thank you.  You’ve no idea the relief that brings my heart.  Some nights I’ll stay up late reading Dostoevsky and listening to Gotye and wonder why nobody sees the true me.

MB:  Well, hopefully this interview will help shed some light on the real Nikola Pekovic.  But back to basketball.  Tonight you guys play the Dallas Mavericks.  How do you prepare yourself for a game like this?

NP:  The first thing I do is I imagine every single player on the opposing team dying a horrible, vicious death at my hands.  Sometimes I strangle them despondently with ice-cold gloves.  Sometimes I slowly dip them into a vat of acid and laugh as their eyes melt into gelatinous pools and their hair singes into nothingness.  Other times I make their hearts stop beating out of sheer fear of being next to me, while the angels above cry out of helplessness.  Then I imagine that I reanimate their pitiful bodies with my superior mind, not because I feel sympathy for their weak, desperate souls, but only so I can annihilate them again…on the basketball court.

MB: HA!  God, you’re so funny, Nikola!

NP:  *Stares unsmilingly*

MB:  Well….okay then.

NP:  *Does not respond or break eye contact*

MB:  Alright, I think that’s about enough for questions.  Good luck tonight Pek.

NP:  LUCK IS FOR CHILDREN AND CRYING DANDY MEN!!!

MB:  Okay, great.  Bye!  *runs out the door*

Tonight the Minnesota Timberwolves play the Dallas Mavericks at home.  Tune in to see Nikola Pekovic crush some dandy men.  Also, the return of RICKY RUBIO!