Well, talk about a shit sandwich of a season. Kevin Love broke his hand again. It’s what we do. If Greg Oden was a giant Voltron robot and broke up into a dozen players, he would turn into the Minnesota Timberwolves.
Screw it. This is Minnesota. And Minnesotans don’t give up. Instead, we passive-aggressively deny reality and make irrational, ill-planned decisions that backfire in our face.
So, as a Minnesotan, I would like to officially sign up to be a Timberwolf.
Come on, David Kahn, it’s not like you have many more options. You need me.
The cons first:
- I am not good at basketball.
- This has never stopped Kahn before.
- I am cheap. (My price is a $100 giftcard to Potbelly Sandwich Shop, a season ticket-holder scarf and a declaration of BFFs from Pekovic.)
- I am approximately Ricky Rubio’s height. So they can dress me up as him and use me as a decoy in case anybody ever threatens his life. All I need is a Beatles wig and a limp.
- I am better than Greg Steimsma.
Unfortunately, this is what it’s come to. Somewhere along the line Minnesota pissed off the basketball gods and they are taking raving vengeance on the team. The Minotaur demands a sacrifice.
Therefore, I volunteer to have my knees clobbered, hands smashed and eyes poked before every game to placate the heavens. I will absorb all injuries that have been raining down on the Wolves this year. Maybe David Kahn doesn’t believe in any of that stuff. I don’t either! But I’m crazy and so is David Kahn. After all, he did call Darko Milicic “Manna From Heaven.” He drafted Wesley Johnson over DeMarcus Cousins. I’m pretty sure he got his entire understanding of basketball from Harlem Globetrotters cameos on Scooby Doo. But that’s okay. Because I’m here to help.
We play Atlanta on Tuesday. Hopefully nobody gets decapitated.