The Minnesota Timberwolves have signed journeyman, famous ear-blower and Dion Waiters soulmate Lance Stephenson to a 10-day contract. On the surface, this seems like it has no downside. What can happen in ten days, anyway? Oh yeah:
Stephenson is a bit of an anomaly. He seemingly has all the physical talent in the world mixed with the maturity of a third-grader who didn’t get his Fruit Roll-Up. He’s like Yosemite Sam without any guns or a hat or a home.
And yet, I’m optimistic. I have to be, I’m a Timberwolves fan. Optimism is all we have. Every true Wolves fan is delusionally under the impression that “MAYBE THIS IS IT?”. Michael Beasley, JJ Barea, Andrei Kirilenko…it always seems good on paper. And then they smoke themselves silly (and leave an estate sale full of wine stains and decorative eggs), get into fights about who’s the alpha on the team even though they’re 4’2″ and physically crumble like a Russian tea cake someone left on Boris Yeltsin’s radiator.
BEST CASE SCENARIO:
Lance has a resurgence a la Dion Waiters in Miami and we sign him for the rest of the year. He continues to blow in LeBron’s ear (because that is awesome). His former mentor, Larry Bird, is so moved by Lance’s redemption story that he leaves the Pacers’ front office, gets a robotic spine and returns to basketball as a Timberwolves player, beginning our run of 33 consecutive NBA titles.
WORST CASE SCENARIO:
He accidentally kills Karl-Anthony Towns on Day 3 after bringing an ATV to practice.
WHAT WILL REALLY HAPPEN:
Lance will be Lance. And by that I mean an idiot. He’ll have a few amazing shots, but mostly will swing his dick around and possibly bring a Nintendo Switch onto the court. We will sign him for the rest of the year, because we are Minnesota. He’ll be in China by summer, which is where former Timberwolves go to feel better about themselves. He’ll average 45 ppg until he blows into Chinese leader Xi Jinping’s ear, after which he’ll spend the rest of his life making LeBron James’ shoes in a basement in Beijing.
Next up we play the Raptors in Minneapolis. Screw you, Toronto! You’ll never get Maple Jordan back!