Archive for November, 2015

I’m not an analytics guy.  I don’t understand math and I don’t give a crap what PER is, because it makes my head hurt and it feels like reading Latin backwards.  I watch the NBA to be entertained, not figure out if Zach LaVine would get to St. Cloud faster on a train heading west at 75mph from ten miles away versus Gorgui Dieng two feet away on roller skates.

I’m an emotional NBA fan.  I judge players like my mother judges me: On a day-by-day basis depending on how “neat” they are.  Steph Curry could have a five point, 1-12 night and I’d be ready to consider him the next Kwame Brown.  In other words, I’m an idiot.  So here’s this idiot’s emotional, irrational list of the best rookies in the NBA so far.

1) Karl-Anthony Towns

This one’s in the bag.  KAT is a beast and once his minutes get past the length of a Daily Show clip he’s going to lead the rookies in most categories.  My favorite things about KAT include his intensity and the fact that at 20 years old he has an imaginary friend.  I’m 37 and go on ghost hunts so any time a successful person is crazy it makes me feel like I’ve got a shot.

2) Kristaps Porzingis

I still can’t pronounce his name so I just call him “Portishead”.  A lot of people think Portishead looks like Dolph Lundgren in “Rocky IV” but I see him in more of a Dolph Lundren in “Kindergarten Cop 2” light.  I didn’t know it existed until recently but sign me the fuck up.

3) Larry Nance Jr.

Larry is not a super great rookie, but for some reason I find it hilarious that Larry Nance has a son in the NBA.  Other sons of former NBA stars I’d like to see in the league include Spud Webb Jr., Andrew Bynum Jr., George Mikan Jr. (he’s 65) and Shawn Kemp IX.

4) Jahlil Okafor

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Me trying to understand ORtg ratings. Photo from a1.fssta.com

Okafor got into a street fight last week and unfortunately it’s the most exciting thing the 76ers have been associated with in years.  Was Okafor a dick before Philadelphia or is there just something about the City of Brotherly Love that turns people into raging psychopaths?  Turns out the fight started when someone came up to Okafor and his teammates and started talkin’ about PRACTICE.

5) Justice Winslow

I would pay $10,000 to have Justice Winslow’s name.  It sounds like an old-timey street-vigilante’s moniker.  “Hey mac, drop the diamonds.  Justice Winslow is coming!”  BIFF PAFF BLOP!  When he’s not busy being a promising NBA rookie, Justice Winslow shoots judge gavels from his fingertips fighting his notorious gangster arch-enemies Mugsy Bogues, Tiny Archibald and Vinny “The Microwave” Johnson.

Next up the Timberwolves play the Clippers in Los Angeles.  DeAndre Jordan has said he’ll be there, which means he won’t be playing.

Go Wolves!

Goddamn these Timberwolves up and downs.  If we were Philadelphia I could just go dead inside and pretend like I don’t base 95% of my happiness on how well a bunch of strangers in mesh polyester put a ball into a hoop.

But I can’t.  Because I’m excited.  And it feels weird to be excited.  I think I just talked myself out of being excited.  No, I’m excited again!

There is a perpetual doom and gloom about being a Timberwolves fan, where we just assume that the team will be broken up, or moved to Seattle or Wiggins will inevitably lose an eye in a tragic Jucy Lucy squirting catastrophe.  I refuse to succumb to it.

Karl-Anthony Towns is my favorite Timberwolves rookie since Kevin Garnett.  The great thing is, I said that about Andrew Wiggins last year.  Ricky Rubio continues to be the best NBA player that the rest of the league never notices or respects.  KG is the best mentor a team can ask for.  Gorgui Dieng is playing awful this year but he moves around like a confused lava lamp and that’s soothing in a way.  All positives!

No team is immune from breakup, but our core of Rubio/Towns/Wiggins are all top-notch dudes that want to win HERE.  Plus, nobody leaves on KG’s watch.  KG is the mafia boss of the NBA.  You can try and leave, but you better get a fake identity and join the Hungarian badminton team to be safe, otherwise you’re waking up with a horse head and Stephon Marbury’s bloody jersey in your bed.

I’ve been paranoid for half a decade about this team being moved.  Turns out they’re on contract for renovations through 2032 so it’s technically impossible.  The relief!  This is like thinking you have smallpox and finding out you just have small palms.  Sorry, Supersonics fans.  Guess you’ll just have to hope Portland grows big enough to touch Seattle.  Hope you like hipsters!

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“We win games, but only ironically.” Photo from i.telegraph.co.uk/

There’s no way this team won’t end up being great someday.  Even we can’t screw this up, right?  It’s not like we’re a team that traded away two superstars, had a point guard focus more on a hip-hop album that made the Chicago Bears look like good rappers, drafted a player who’s not even in the league anymore over arguably the best player in the NBA and tried to coax women to games by offering a cup of wine and a free DVD of “Girls”.

Oh shit, we’re screwed.  We are the Insane Clown Posse of the NBA and nobody but meth-heads will ever love us.

No, no.  We’re the future NBA Champs and they’ll close the league after us because nobody will ever be able to top it!

Go Wolves!

Photo from layovertips.com/

Photo from layovertips.com/

The Minnesota Timberwolves are ass-backwards right now.  4-0 on the road and 0-3 at home.  My first instinct is to burn the Target Center down, but I’m pretty sure it’s full of 1989 asbestos and Tony Campbell’s spare tires.  We can’t risk poisoning Prince on the one day a year he goes out to buy purple shoes.

It’s all perfectly explainable.

November 2 against the Portland Trailblazers – 

Even Blazers fans know the referees screwed us.  OJ’s verdict made more sense.  We can only hope that the Blazers end up stealing some sports memorabilia, go to prison for 20 years and write a book called “If We Did It – The Story Of Paying The Refs”.  Glen Taylor must have dry-humped Adam Silver’s mom at the sweetheart’s dance in 1916 to warrant this kind of hate.

November 5 against the Miami Heat – 

Sam Mitchell played Rubio, Towns and Wiggins a total of negative three minutes that game.  Dwayne Wade had 150 points.  Goran Dragic summoned Veles, the Slovenian dragon god of cattle and trickery, to intercede and make us forget how to play basketball.  Tom Brady deflated our balls.

November 7 against the Charlotte Hornets –

We didn’t have Rubio, Wiggins or KG in the line-up.  We also had to go up against Jeremy Lin and his giant, cartoonish fauxhawk, which should be illegal because it gives him three feet more space to flop with.  Lin is a devout Christian.  Well, buddy, the Ninth Commandment says “Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor.”  And according to this Wikipedia page I just read, the punishment for bearing false witness was having the same thing done back to you.  So…I guess if you’re a good Christian you will come back to Minneapolis and let 30 people pretend to get hit in the head by you.  That’ll show you!

“Finish him!” Photo from chocolateinformed.com

Next up we play Golden State Warriors at home. Oh boy.  Nothing says breaking a home losing streak like playing arguably the most dominant team since the ’96 Bulls.  Veles, be with us!

Alzheimer patient Sam Mitchell tries to remember who's on his team. Photo from nba.cdn.turner.com/

Alzheimer patient Sam Mitchell tries to remember who’s on his team. Photo from nba.cdn.turner.com/

The difference between two games can be startling.  One minute you’re hopelessly falling into Kurt Rambis 2.0 Land and the next you’re beating a Eastern Conference contender on the road and dreaming of 80-2.  Damnit Wolves, you’re never boring.

After Thursday’s game, I was in a depression spiral about our team.  I could never be an NBA coach.  I couldn’t even coach third graders shooting at a Nerf hoop.  But I think I could be a better coach than Sam Mitchell.

How in the hell do you play Karl-Anthony Towns for only 22 minutes?  And Ricky Rubio for 24?  It’s like we’re driving this fancy SUV to dinner and 1/4 of the way there we go “Fuck it, let’s take the unicycle.  No, no, let the drunk guy steer.”

It must be hard being an NBA coach, having idiots like me telling you how to do your occupation.  It’s a high-pressure, high-blame job and he got thrust into it out of necessity because of Flip’s passing.  BUT WHAT THE HELL, SAM?!   You don’t start someone if they’re old enough to have starred in Space Jam, okay?  I’ll give you a pass on KG because he’s the heart and soul of the team but the only thing Tayshaun Prince should be starting is his AARP subscription.

I wasn’t expecting a championship this year, or even making the playoffs.  But I expected to watch entertaining basketball where we got to see our young studs earn their chops in the fire.  Instead, we got mind-boggling rotations that seem to be picked by a drunk parakeet pecking at pictures taped to a wall.

I began to feel that familiar feeling of “we’re totally fucked and we’re going to have to sit through another long season of Kevin Martin holding onto the ball longer than it takes to charge a cellphone and Zach LaVine exhibiting the control of a methed-out Roller Girl.”

Then Saturday happened AND WE ARE THE GREATEST!

Karl-Anthony Towns is the next Tim Duncan/Karl Malone/Shaq/Jordan/Jesus!  Wiggins is literally made of superpowered maple leaves from Hell!  Zach LaVine is exactly the same!

And get this:  Ol’ Black Hole Chicken Wing Shot Kevin Martin misses a game and suddenly everybody gets the ball.  Unfortunately, he was out because of personal reasons involving his family.  That’s sad and I don’t like that, but I do think we can find a way to make him miss more games without personal tragedy or getting hurt.  I understand Martin is very polite.  I suggest we start inviting him to every birthday party, going away party and bris we can think of.  Tell him Pooh Richardson invited him to Burning Man, Crunch is getting married, Milt Newton is building a Kevin Martin shrine in Madagascar and he has to cut the ribbon.  I think if we do this right we can make him miss at least 75 out of the next 77 games.

Next up we play the 7-1 Hawks in Atlanta.  We’re 3-0 on the road but this is going to be a rough one.  Hopefully Dominique Wilkins will punch a guy again for non-payment on a suit and it’ll throw them off.

Go Wolves!