Posts Tagged ‘mike brody’

Sometimes a blog post doesn’t need too many words. 14 years without making the playoffs. We finally did it. Yeah we’ll probably get swept by the Rockets. Who cares? I feel like that 105 year old man they show on TV when a team’s about to win a championship. “He sat through it all!”

Here’s how I reacted when we made it. My dogs were very upset.

 

 

 

I’ve been a fan of the Minnesota Timberwolves since 2002.  I saw some good years, then sat through a decade and a half of BDSM with all of the bleeding and none of the enjoyment.  I went to games that were so sparsely attended that even though I bought upper bowl tickets, I sat in the third row courtside and nobody stopped me.  Hell, I could have played and nobody would have cared.  I slogged through Rambis, Kahn, Darko, knuckle push-ups and the Cream Team.  Still year in and year out I come back to this team, because I gave my heart to them.  I even made a video where I couldn’t burn Kevin Love’s jersey because I loved the Pups too much.

But after last night, I will only put in as much effort as the Timberwolves do.  And that currently is zero.  Players and coaches change over the years, but the one thing that remains constant is the fans.  And the Timberwolves fans deserve better than this.  My 98 year old grandma would have tried harder and she’s not alive.

So fuck you, Timberwolves.

fuckyou

Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, Taj & Teague – you’re cool, fuck you, fuck you.  I’m out.

(Yeah, yeah, yeah I’m not going anywhere and maybe after next game I’ll change my tune but I’m just completely disillusioned with this franchise right now.)

Many of you know that February 8 is the NBA trade deadline.  What many of you DON’T know is that February 8 is also National Iowa Day.  As the fourth most famous Iowan (after Ashton Kutcher, Tom Arnold, Slipknot and tied with Bix Beiderbecke), I feel like this gives me credible authority from up high to submit my trade deadline directly to Tom Thibodeau and staff.

My requests/demands are as follows:

Shabazz Muhammad & Cole Aldrich for Avery Bradley

According to ESPN’s NBA Trade Machine, this trade works out salary-wise.  We would get someone who could be a much needed “3&D” player, but we would lose our favorite scapegoat and a human hockey puck.  It would really be a homerun for us, but why in the world would Detroit make that trade?  We’d have to convince them that Shabazz is the next Boris Diaw and that Aldrich would be perfect as the next Robocop.  I have begun the campaign:

RoboCole

RoboCole

Gorgui Dieng and the Thunder 1st round pick for Nikola Mirotic 

I stole this trade idea from Dunking With Wolves because I’m bad at math and lazy, but it would make sense.  We are blood brothers with the Chicago Bulls and this trade would take them one step closer to being the 2016-17 Timberwolves.  I would honestly miss Gorgui’s wonderfully reliable 800 foot 2-pointers and the way he runs like someone is giving him a colonoscopy, but we would be getting our first player since Nikola Pekovic who looks like he’s cut off someone’s finger to gain fingerprint code access.  (NOTE: I just realized that, like Pekovic, Mirotic is from Montenegro.  What is it with that place and Bond Villains?  I’m positive both of them have dangled someone over an acid pit.  Although Pek would be the goon holding them and Mirotic would be in the suit twiddling his fingers and making a speech about Chaucer.)

mirotic

“You should have seen the sly col-fox, waiting in the bed of wortes. Lower him, my Pek.”

Aaron Brooks for an broken soda machine

It’s an even trade, because like an old soda machine, Aaron Brooks used to work but now only gives out Diet Mountain Dew.

Tyus Jones for Tyler Jones

We all love home-town hero Tyus Jones, but Tyler is so much younger than him.  If this trade doesn’t work out, we can always explore a Karl-Anthony Towns/Burl-Michaely Towns swap or even a Nemanja Bjelica/Jumanji Pizza deal.

Next up we play the Hawks in Atlanta.  Crappy Eastern Conference team…worst record in the league…on the road…uh oh.  We will definitely start with a 40 point lead and lose by 15.

GO WOLVES!!!

(Robocop/Cole Aldrich photoshop by Tim Brechlin)

Tyus Jones, Alex Caruso

AP Photo/Jim Mone

In case you didn’t know, the Los Angeles Lakers used to be the Minneapolis Lakers.  Granted, this was back when it was almost all whites dudes and people still played with peach baskets and medicine balls.  Shoes were worn on the court solely because exposed toes were considered too sexual.  A highlight reel consisted of George Mikan scoring eight million points without ever leaving his feet.  BECAUSE HE DIDN’T WANT TO.

52-53_lakers

Remember when all the kids wore their flat-footed “Vern Mikkelson” Converses? From NBAhoops.com

Still, that team belonged to us.  We won five of the Lakers 16 championships in Minneapolis.  You know, the land of LAKES.  And then the team left.  I honestly don’t know the full story because I didn’t have time to read the telegrams, but I understand it wasn’t exactly acrimonious.  Think of how Seattle feels about Oklahoma City now, except with the NBA fanship roughly the size of curling.

Flash forward past civil rights and the discovery that smoking is bad during halftime to last night.  The L.A. Lakers were in town to play the Minnesota Timberwolves and these SUMSOFBITCHES wore their throw-back “MPLS. Lakers” jerseys.  That’s like if Seattle actually did get a team again and OKC showed up wearing a Shawn Kemp style “Supersonics” jersey to rub it in.  Or if the New Orleans Pelicans played the Charlotte Hornets and wore their retro jerseys as the New Orleans Hornets, even though technically they aren’t considered a part of that franchise anymore even though they drafted people as Hornets that ended up as Pelicans.  No, wait.  I’m confused. THE POINT IS, IT WAS SHITTY and there are only one of two explanations for the Lakers’ rationale in doing so:

  1. They are so egocentric as a team that they thought they were honoring us by wearing the name of our city in OUR HOUSE, even though it was ripped from our hands back when people ate lead for fun.
  2. It was a direct “F-You!” to Timberwolves fans.

Being a Minnesotan with a passive-aggressive inferiority complex, I’m going with #2.  So “F-You!” back, L.A.  You have 11 championships.  Those other five were won in a rollerskating rink in Minnesota when there were three teams in the league.  The finals were decided by a coin toss and you don’t get to claim them unless you are intimately familiar with Hubert Humphrey or at the very least Louie Anderson.

My how the roles have flipped.  Minnesota is looking like a #4 seed and the Lakers are a place that Dwight Howard’s sad sack doesn’t even want to go to, so you definitely ain’t getting LeBron.  The only new big name you guys are getting is Jack Nicholson’s gastroenterologist. So suck it, Los Angeles.  You snowbirds couldn’t take the cold anyway.

Next up we play the Nets in Brooklyn, a team that will never ever attempt to wear a throw-back jersey:

bradley

Photo from s304.photobucket.com/user/nbacardDOTnet

 

 

 

unfun

Photo from rebloggy.com

I thought this would feel different.  I thought when the Wolves were finally in the playoff race for the first time since “Friends” got cancelled that I would be over the moon, like during KG’s return home game or when Burger King started selling Lucky Charm’s milkshakes.  Instead, I feel confused, conflicted and slightly lackadaisical, like I do after three Lucky Charms milkshakes.

Canis Hoopus posted a great article about how to enjoy the Timberwolves this season.  It was helpful, but I think they slightly underestimated how unfun the Wolves have been to watch this year.  Technically, at 16-11, we are getting the job done.  But it has been ugly and painful like a dentist who jabbed the Novocaine into your forehead, but still got your wisdom teeth out, then, for no apparent reason, made the dental technicians stay until midnight.

It’s kind of jarring to go from losing with the flash of Ricky Rubio and Zach LaVine to winning with…what?  Memphis 2.0?  We’re more Shit ‘N Blind than Grit ‘N Grind.  We’re not particularly good at anything as a team, but our top players are just so individually good that we can fluke our way into a win if the team’s top player is out for the night.  Which seems to be a trend.  Either Aaron Brooks’ actual purpose on this team is to Tanya Harding everybody’s knees before the game or else nobody is scared of us, because it feels like the last superstar we played against was Isiah Thomas.  The short pants one.

Here are some ideas that could help make our team fun to watch again:

  • Attach sleigh bells to Jeff Teague.  This will serve a double purpose by not only ringing in the Holiday Spirit to the team, but alerting Jeff that he should pass the ball after 2-3 jingles instead of the whole damn song.
  • Allow fans to punch Cole Aldrich in the face when we are frustrated.  It’s not personal.  He’s already missing teeth, he never plays and he’s making a ton of money.  Serve a greater purpose, Cole.
  • Instead of giving fans Cherry Berry when the opposing team misses two free throws in a row, give it to Thibs on the sideline and zoom in on the jumbotron until he gets brain freeze.  I’m too lazy to redeem that ice cream anyway and I’ve always wanted to know what a constipated rhino looks like.
  • Jimmy Butler karaoke at halftime.  Only Hootie songs.
  • Spectacular injuries.  How much drama did the Gordon Hayward injury add to the Celtics year?  I’m not saying any players should do this.  I’m thinking assistant coach Rick Brunson could perhaps get hit in the face with Crunch’s t-shirt gun and get carted off before returning Willis Reed style.  We get some much needed drama.  He gets some attention and a free shirt.  Win-win!
  • Stop losing to shit teams.

Next up we play the Philadelphia 76ers at home on Tuesday.  Aaron Brooks will have the night off from wacking knees because according to my sources half the team just fell into a swimming pool and broke their pelvises.

GO WOLVES!

Jimmy-Butler-face

“My name is Mike Brody and I’m a diehard Minnesota Timberwolves fan.

That really feels like an AA introduction.  Actually, being a Wolves fan is a lot like being an alcoholic. Years of crying, frustration, denial and blame followed by moments of clarity and giving up.  Then the relapses.  ‘This year’s going to be different!’  Sure it is.  Just keep telling yourself that while you pee your pants at Denny’s.”

Those were the first words I ever posted on this blog over five years ago and on the surface the situation feels eerily similar.  We were 5-3 at the time (we are 7-3 right now) and about to play the Golden State Warriors (we play the Dubs Wednesday).  However, there is not a single Timberwolf (coaching staff or player) left from that era.  The only thing still the same is owner Glen Taylor, the fans, DJ Mad Mardigan and an ensuing sense of dread that something horrible and beyond our control is going to come along and ruin everything.  In 2012-13 it was Kevin Love’s stupid broken hand and the infamous, bullshit “knuckle push-ups”, which we all know was him punching someone at Augie’s because they didn’t notice he had 74 rebounds in a game we lost by 45.

This year is actually for real different, though.  The ensuing dread is there, make no mistake.  But this time it’s muscle memory, not the inevitable.  And there is one reason and one reason alone.  Not Andrew Wiggins, not Karl-Anthony Towns and not because they got rid of the pig pee troughs that made you get someone’s ocean spray on your trousers/shoes/beard.

No, the reason this year is different is because of Jimmy G. Buckets Esquire.

I won’t even go into his stats.  Yes, his numbers are off the charts low this year.  Sorry, your fantasy league is fucked.  I don’t care.  Numbers do not apply to Jimmy G.Q. Buckets.  Jimmy is like a Minnesota winter day, where the thermometer says 25 degrees but we all goddamn know it’s -10 with the wind chill.  Mr. Buckets is the reason your nose hairs are frozen the second you walk outside.  He’s that sound the snow makes when it’s so cold it feels like you’re stepping on Styrofoam.  You can’t quantify this shit.

We’ve never had a player like this since Kevin Garnett.  Kevin Love was more concerned about his “Numbers”.  Ricky Rubio tried so hard but ultimately was like an adorable Red Bull flugtag in a 747 race.  Al Jefferson did whatever Al Jefferson did.

This feels different.  I had nosebleed seats at the Target Center during the Hornets game and average Minnesotans in camouflage up there were getting excited.  These people rub deer urine on themselves on purpose.  It’s happening.

Thank you, Jimmy GG Allin Buckets.

Next up we play Golden State in Oakland.  Maybe two of their players will get hurt and we’ll only have to go up against the other two top 15 players in the league?

Go Wolves!!!

 

My album is officially out NOW! Please download it on iTunes and share online. It debuted at #10 on the iTunes comedy chart and I want to get it to #1. Thanks everybody! Mike Brody Available Now Square