31 wins, 51 losses.
Soak it in, Timberwolves fans. This asinine, infuriating, brain-melting shit-pocket of a season is the best record we’ve ever had without Kevin Garnett. We’ve been a team since 1989, when Hypercolor and Milli Vanilli were popular. We are a sad, cursed bunch.
Our core group of Kevin Love, Ricky Rubio and Nikola Pekovic played a total of 13 minutes together this season. That’s a real stat. The drum solo in “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida” is longer than that. That’s not even mentioning the injuries to Chase Budinger, Brandon Roy, Malcolm Lee and Andrei Kirilenko. And still we won 31 games.
There’s so many questions about next year that I don’t even want to open myself up for the disappointment. Will Kevin Love be 100%? Will Rick Adelman return as head coach? Will David Kahn be fired and if so will he be replaced by Jesse Ventura? Can we move to the East already, so we can lose 85% of our games and still make the playoffs. Fuck you, Milwaukee. You’re Chicago’s gimpy, dirty cousin and nobody likes you. You’re where people go when they’ve been run out of town but still have meth to sell. You’re the North Vegas of the Midwest. You smell like cabbage. I hope Miami wins by 150 while watching re-runs of “Laverne & Shirley” because that’s how easy it is to beat you.
By sheer probability and statistics, we have to be good again sooner or later, right? They say that if a monkey types on a typewriter infinitely that it’ll eventually produce the complete works of Shakespeare. I don’t know what’s scarier, this immortal, ADHD monkey or the fact that chimpanzee King Lear will probably exist before the headline “NBA Champions – The Minnesota Timberwolves” does.
I love the Minnesota Timberwolves. I will continue to support them rain or shine. Here’s my Timberwolves wishlist for the summer:
1) Be healthy.
2) Draft a player who doesn’t suck.
3) Fire people who are stupid.
4) Re-sign Pekovic.
5) Meet Prince and steal his high heels.
6) Find more Russians. They don’t hate snow.
7) Remove all walls, fridges and anything punchable from Kevin Love’s apartment. Preferable: House him in a sponge bubble.
8) Erect a statue of Pooh Richardson and Tony Campbell holding hands.
9) Sign Dwight Howard.
10) Inject Dwight Howard with PCP-laced heroin and leave him at Hazeldon with a note saying “I do bath-salts if nobody punches me in the balls.”
Thanks for reading this season. I’ll post when things of interest happen this off-season, but otherwise see you next year. Go Wolves!