Great Sam Cassell’s head! Kevin Garnett wants to buy the Wolves!
This must be what it’s like to dream of a fancy new step-dad. Your current lame-ass dad likes to wear Cosby sweaters, forces you to mow the backyard for $1 a pop and keeps the house just together enough that it doesn’t get condemned. Until Fancy New Step-Dad shows up. He kicks Old Dad out and buys everybody an Escalade. He hangs out with Jay Z and screams like a Braveheart warrior every time he eats a hamburger. He’s perfect and makes everybody happy until the end of time.
These are only a few of the sky-high expectations I have for KG. I know, it’s not realistic. We don’t even know if he’d be a good owner type. Look at some of the former NBA players who’ve made it into the front office:
- Isiah Thomas – Destroyed teams from the inside out. Basically was a more innocent-looking Clarence Thomas in short-shorts. Shouldn’t advise a fork.
- Larry Bird – Great front office guy with Indiana. Uglier than Tom Petty. Shorter shorts than Isiah.
- Michael Jordan – Not a great owner, but everybody’s afraid to tell him. Only a matter of time before he loses the team from a card game in Thailand. Drafted Kwame Brown #1 in the draft. (Read that last one 20 times.)
- Michael Beasley – I believe he runs the 76ers.
It’s a messy, unpredictable transition, but who cares? For all the bitching I’ve done on this blog, from the Kevin Love chicanery to the 500 injuries to human salamander David Kahn, no one is more responsible for our decade long irrelevance than owner Glen Taylor. You can put all the spinning Sprewell rims on the car you want, but at it’s core it’s still a Dodge Omni full of mothballs. Kevin Garnett is the weird new fancy hybrid car that runs on the pain of bitches and snitches. It might catch fire and burn the garage down. Or it might spew champagne from the radio right into your mouth, suckas! I’m gonna go with blind, irrational optimism. After all, I’m a Timberwolves fan. MR. TAYLOR, TEAR DOWN THIS WALL AND GIVE KG THE TEAM!
We play the Pelicans tonight in the Big Easy. This game hits a little close to home for me, because I’m on the road, forgot my razor and have a huge, freaky Anthony Davis unibrow. Go Wolves!