Archive for December, 2016

sweet-care-bear

Dear Ricky Rubio,

In my last blog I said that it was time to trade you.  I didn’t mean it.  I mean, I meant it for like three days.  But three days in six years isn’t that big of a deal.  One time in college I lost my mind and thought I liked The Counting Crows for a week.  Mistakes were made.  Sometimes I get depressed and forget what’s real and if white people with dreads is a good idea.

I’m firmly back on the Ricky Rubio Is Embodiment Of The Minnesota Timberwolves Train.  That’s a compliment, if you’re wondering.  You’re not perfect.  But who is?  The greatest team in the history of the NBA was the Chicago Bulls and they did it with Luc Longley and Bill Cartwright, a Judge Reinhold lookalike and a man who I believe was physically incapable of bending his elbows, respectively.

You’ve been playing like the Ricky of old the last half dozen games, and we’re starting to show signs of life.  Somehow, we are only three games behind the #8 spot in the playoff race.  I don’t know how that is even possible.  It feels about as deserving as Hayden Christensen getting for an Oscar for his “I don’t like sand. It’s coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere” scene as Anakin Skywalker. But I’ll take it!

I don’t care that you can’t shoot.  I can’t cook or fix things around the house or perform basic adult functions but my wife lets me stay married to her.  What kind of hypocrite would I be for blaming you for doing just one thing badly?  Hell, you still TRY and shoot at least.  I have not attempted to clear the gutters due to my deathly fear of ladders and the squishy hill by the garage that certainly has a hidden ninja dog poop that I’d fall onto.

So brick away, Ricky.  You have my blessing.  Throw up shots that risk hitting the nosebleed section more than the rim.  You’re amazing at assists, steals and looking like a Hatchimal.  I love you.  Minnesota loves you.

Stay gold, Ponyboy.

Love,

Mike Brody

Next up we play the Kings at home on Friday.  Let’s try and limit DeMarcus Cousins to only 54 points and four ejections.

 

cst 64362 Wolves vs. Dallas

So I was in Australia for a few weeks and missed a bunch of Timberwolves games.  Believe it or not they don’t get Fox Sports North down there, only cooking channels dedicated to Vegemite-fried wallabies on a stick.  So what did I miss?  We went 8-0 right?

Oh, we went 2-7.  Sad koalas. My god, we could lose more games under Tom Thibodeau than Sam Mitchell. That’s like a blindfolded and drunk DeAndre Jordan beating Steph Curry in a free-throw challenge. I guess we need to pump the brakes on this whole “We’re going to make the playoffs this year” train.  Which leads me to the most painful sentence I’ve had to type since “I think I’m going to get hemorrhoid surgery”:

It’s time to trade Ricky Rubio.

Listen, I love Ricky.  He’s my favorite Timberwolf after KAT and Wiggins and Lavine and Crunch.  I have defended Ricky at every turn for every game he’s been here. But he needed to make a significant jump forward this year and he’s managed to go backwards.  Ricky’s only averaging 6.7 assists per game. Dude, you can’t score.  You HAVE to get more assists otherwise you’re just a guy who might as well be mopping or ironing one of Pekovic’s 400 injury suits.  And he clearly doesn’t fit in with whatever Thibs is screaming about on the sidelines.

tomthib

“RICKY! DID YOU REMEMBER TO TURN YOUR STOVE OFF?!??!”

Ugh, this sucks.  I don’t want to break up with Ricky.  It’s the hardest thing I’ll ever have to do.  To look you in the eye and tell you I don’t love you.  It’s the hardest thing I’ll ever have to lie.  To show no emotion when you start to cry.

Ricky…no.  No, I know you hit a three last night.  That was great, but it’s too late.  Stop it.  Ricky, change this face.  Be happy.  Enjoy!

Next up we play we play the Spurs, beginning a six game run that continues with the Raptors, Pistons, Warriors, Bulls and Rockets.  I’m no Nostradamus but I think we’re fucked.

GO WOLVES!