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.
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.