Posts Tagged ‘playoffs’

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.)

My view from the fourth row last night.

My view from the fourth row last night.

40-42.

If you think about it, it’s perfect.  It’s a losing record, but just the bare minimum of losing without winning. We’re the best of the worst. The Biggest Loser.  Professional NIT.  We’re Mott The Hoople to the playoffs’ David Bowie.  We’re the goddamn Timberwolves.

I went to the game last night and had fourth row seats.  I’ll probably never get to see a game that close again and it allowed me to notice a few things that you wouldn’t in the cheap seats:

1) The crowd got loud as hell last night.  True, we were asleep for the beginning of the game, but I swear it picked up the minute the announcer mentioned that Kevin Love was the first player in NBA history with 2,000 points, 900 rebounds and 100 3-pointers in a single season.  Then it got crazy loud once we went on a good tear in the second half.  Then, it got to rabid dog pissed off when Ricky Rubio was clearly shoved to the ground with no call.  You can call us “Minnesota Nice” all you want, but they must have imported some brainwashed, coked up Boston/New Yorkers for this game, because shit got super un-nice.

2) The Utah Jazz have a dude who is 8’9″ tall and his name is Go-Gurt.  He is officially listed as 7’1″, but there’s no way. Seeing him that close up was simply shocking.  Utah has a long history (beginning with Mark Eaton and stretching to Enes Kanter) of developing long, gross Gumby men, but this guy takes the cake. This dude made Manute Bol look like Manute Bol with no legs.  He made Mugsy Bogues look like Shawn Bradley.  That doesn’t even make any sense, but that’s how disconcerting his height was.  That dude could tickle Karl Malone’s knees from across the court.  His arms are so long he could punch John Stockton back in 1983 when he played for Gonzaga.  He’s got Go Go Go-Gurt arms and he looks like Herman Munster with Marfans.  Hide your children.

3) Ricky Rubio has a wicked right arm. It was Fan Appreciation Night and immediately after the game, the Wolves players (not including Kevin Love – who I love, but is the King of Crying) took to the court to toss Timberwolves t-shirts into the audience.  I caught three!  The first was an arching Hail Mary from Pekovic.  The second was from an unknown source who I like to think was Kevin Garnett.  And the third was from Rubio.  I wasn’t looking in his direction and when it struck me it literally hit me full-speed on the heart.  It hurt so bad I got a headache.  I now have empathy for poor Darko Milicic dropping Ricky’s passes and having them bounce off his rectum or anywhere else except his hands.  Ricky could throw a pass to the moon that’s being guarded by the sun and four flying Bigfoots and still nail the Sea of Tranquility and no one would see it coming. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go nurse my collapsed sternum.

That’s it for the 2013-2014 season.  We have a full off-season of crying and “Why? WHY? WHY?!”s to recoup and then begins Season 2014-2015, otherwise known as: “The Year Of Awkwardly and Pathetically Begging Kevin Love to Stay.”  Maybe if we all lost some weight and started dressing sexier?

I’ll still check in from time to time for the playoffs and any trade/draft related drama.  Until then, it’s time to unemotionally watch some OTHER teams fail for a change.

Go Wolves!

Photoshop by José Eça de Queiroz.

Photoshop by José Eça de Queiroz

You know how when people die they supposedly see the light and feel a sense of calm and peace?  That’s how I feel right now with the potential Minnesota death of Kevin Love.  I see the light.  I don’t feel the pain anymore.  I’m accepting of whatever fate may be.  A semi-truck named David Kahn t-boned my Ford Focus of a Timberwolves team and I’m screwed.  But Gorgui Dieng is giving me CPR.  And Robbie Hummel is calling 911.  Shabazz Muhammad is playing Angry Birds but he really is thinking about helping.

It’s not the end of the world.  If Love stays, we’ll have a big future.  If he leaves, life goes on.  I make fun of Shabazz a lot, but he really does have the potential to be what everybody thought Michael Beasley could be.  He also has the potential to be just Michael Beasley.  The pendulum swings wide on Shabazz.  Here’s to hoping he doesn’t like weed.

Robbie Hummel doesn’t play a lot, but when he does he hussles his ass off and makes nice threes.  Unfortunately, he’s had more surgeries than Mickey Rourke’s face.  I have a firm belief that if Robbie “The Wrestler” Hummel can do enough yoga and pilates or whatever NBA players do to stay healthy, he could be a really solid NBA role player.  Here’s to hoping he doesn’t like bungee jumping.

Which brings me to the Senegal Sensation, Gorgui Dieng.  Nothing but positivity here.  Who saw this shit coming?  He’s averaging 13 points, 14 rebounds and nearly 60% shooting in the last six games, all of which he started in place of the injured Nikola Pekovic. In those six games, he had one 22 point/21 rebound game and one 15/15 game.  BEAST!  I love Pek.  He’s my favorite player.  But in the meantime, I’m enjoying the hell out of watching Gorgui gallop around the court like a wobbly, newborn, giant moose unleashed on a world-full of unsuspecting Precious Moments figurines.  He’s not quite there yet, but you can see it in him.  He’s already great defensively and actually has some nice offensive moves too.  Here’s my favorite part: His first name means “Old one” in his native tongue of Wolof.  He even speaks Wolf.

Gorgui Dieng - Born Minnesotan. Photo from sportsde.com

Gorgui Dieng – Born in Senegal/spiritually Minnesotan. Photo from sportsde.com

Look, Gorgui Dieng obviously isn’t the next Kevin Love. (Even though his rebounding stats have rivaled his in this stretch.)  He’s just a wee-little Timberpup right now.  But I need hope.  Kevin Love has been dragging my tattered Timberwolves heart around for too long.  We don’t need him.  We’ve sucked for ten years, so what’s sucking for a few more with players that actually want to be here?  In two years, we could conceivably have a line-up that consists of Ricky Rubio, Shabazz Muhammed, Corey Brewer, Gorgui Dieng and Nikola Pekovic.  Good enough to get into the playoffs?  Who knows?  Maybe the Bucks will get bought by the Seattle group and Minnesota will move to the Eastern Conference and we can sport a 10-72 record and still be the third best team in the East?  Do you know what all of those players have in common, though?  They’re tough as nails and don’t bitch and whine when things don’t go their way.  They don’t have rich uncle Beach Boys and need to be around a UCLA umbrella in Sun Tan Land at all times.  I just don’t get it.  I would play in a jar full of jelly in Siberia for the money these dudes are making.  Who cares if you live in a hip town?  Just suck it up for ten years, make your money and retire to Valhalla!

Next up, we play the Los Angeles Lakers on Friday at home.  I’d rather be an NBA team on the slow crescendo up than a faltering behemoth of a crumbling dynasty.  For the love of god, let’s beat this Lindsay Lohan of a team.

Go Wolves!

Photo from cleveland.com

Photo from cleveland.com

Let’s face it, the Timberwolves aren’t making the playoffs.  It’s still technically possible, but there’d have to be some kind of Gorgui Dieng/Robbie Hummel Space Jam Monstar transformation and then we’d probably have to pay Bugs Bunny somehow, so screw it.  I’m past all these playoff pipe dreams.  Here’s the five things I’d actually like to happen the remainder of this season:

1) Stay where we are in the seeds:  We traded a draft pick to the Phoenix Suns that is Top 13 protected.  In other words, if we do better and pass Phoenix, we lose our pick. I’d still like to end with a winning record, so I don’t think we should tank the rest of the games.  What’s the term for just hanging around?  Floating?  Someone call up Oliver Miller and get his doughy, buoy ass back on the team.  Float City!  (Bonus wish: Andrew Wiggins falls to #13 and cultivates a weird lutefisk obsession, keeping him in Minnesota forever.)

2) More Shabazz: I never thought I’d say this, but I like him.  Yeah, he’s got weird acne and I’m not entirely sure he’s ever passed the ball on purpose, but the dude’s got spirit.  All it took was 50 games of DNPs and countless hours of Rick Adelman staring him down with his beady coach eyes.  But he’s already better than Derrick Williams.  Plus, if Kevin Love leaves, our future starting line-up could conceivably have a killer boy band name line-up: Ricky, Robbie, Gorgui, Nikky and Shabazz. They could be called “Knot 2 Shabby.”  Okay, I’m not exactly Lou Pearlman.  Fuck off.

3) Less JJ: Notice that I didn’t include JJ in the boy band even though he’s 5’3″ and his name just screams silk shirt?  THAT’S BECAUSE I HATE HIM!  I’m sorry, we all thought he was great on the 2011 Mavericks, but this dude has outworn his welcome.  Here’s a tip: Don’t spend as much time in the paint as Hakeem Olajuwon if you’re the size of a waterbug.

4) Pekovic toughens up Budinger:  I love Chase, but he’s seemed kind of timid for most of the season, even for an albino snow angel.  Is it too much to ask for Big Pek to take him back to Montenegro and teach him how to be a man, Eastern European style?  They can skip the track suits and chains.  Just don’t bring him back until he looks like this:

Photo from Marvel.com

Photo from Marvel.com

5) Everyone, watch Kevin Love run: This is kind of a weird wish, but next time you watch a Timberwolves game, watch K-Love move up the court.  He runs like a Choo-choo train.

"ALL ABOARD!  Next stop, Old Man Kobe's New Bitch Town!" Photo from http://bestclipartblog.com

“ALL ABOARD! Next stop, Old Man Kobe’s New Bitch Town!” Photo from bestclipartblog.com

Next up, we play the Mavericks at home.  Think they’ll take JJ back?  I bet we can slip him into Dirk’s shoes without anybody noticing.

Go Wolves!

Photo from thesportsspin.com

The Ghost Of Christmas Past – 2004. Photo from thesportsspin.com

Dear Santa,

I know you don’t exist.  When I was six “Santa” brought me an “Operation” board game for Christmas.  My sister got “Hungry Hungry Hippos.”  I was ecstatic.  Then my dad suddenly popped up and exclaims “Santa made a mistake!” and switched the games between the two of us.  I learned to love “Hungry Hungry Hippos” but I wasn’t stupid. I asked my dad that night if Santa was real and he said “Nope!” with the relief of a man who had to buy one less present from now on.

However, just like I can’t prove if existence or God or Alabama really exists, I can’t be 100% sure that you don’t either.  Even if there’s a 000.1% chance, it’s worth a shot.  So I’m covering all my bases and writing you a letter, as well as the Pope, Hillary Clinton and Dustin Diamond.  Which one of you is the most powerful?  I don’t know, but it’d sure suck to be outdone by Screech, wouldn’t it, Santa?

So please, please Santa…all I want for Christmas is for the Minnesota Timberwolves to make the NBA playoffs this year.  I had hair the last time they did.  And I’ve been bald for a really long time.  Smartphones also didn’t exist.  Cleveland was getting ready to win about ten championships in a row.  For fuck’s sake, Hoobastank was still popular!

Yes, I’m aware that there are other things that I could wish for, like world peace or an end to starvation and disease.  But we all know that’s not really your specialty anyway.  I’ve seen Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer.  You’re kind of a dick.  Your expertise is in pure capitalism and you don’t like highfalutin dentist elves.

So how about a deal?  If you make sure the Timberwolves make the playoffs (and by extension make Kevin Love resign with us) you can have JJ Barea.  He is elf sized and has no goals of being a dentist that I’m aware of.  He’s also married to Miss Universe.  Who knows?  Maybe she could be the new Mrs. Claus once ol’ Jose takes a dive off a snow-cliff while looking for the Abominable Snowman?

Please think about it.

Sincerely,
Mike Brody
Minneapolis, MN

P.S.  While you’re at it can you give Ricky Rubio a jump shot?  And show Pek how to dunk?  And teach Kevin Love defense?  Also, please kick David Kahn in the face.  And make Stephon Marbury believe he’s a hamster.  Thanks!

I don’t think I have to tell you how much I hate the Los Angeles Lakers, because I already have.

And we have a chance to completely ruin their season.  The Lakers and the Utah Jazz are in a dogfight for the last spot in the Western Conference playoffs.  There’s only about a half dozen games left in the season and every single one counts.  And lo and behold, guess who plays the Jazz TWICE before the season’s out?  Your very own Minnesota Timberwolves.

I love that Minnesotans are honest and hard-working people.  I love that we pride ethics in our lives.  But the Minnesota Timberwolves are not from Minnesota.  Luke Ridnour’s from Oregon, Ricky Rubio’s from Spain, Kevin Love was born at sea on Dennis Wilson’s house boat and Nikola Pekovic was born and raised on the Berlin Wall, I think.  And therefore, I say fuck it!  Let’s throw these damn games.

What’s the worst that could happen?  The 1919 White Sox purposely lost the World Series for money and what happened to them?  I think they got banned for life or something, but they made it onto the Field Of Dreams!  And that’s all anybody really remembers or cares about.  Does anybody remember Shoeless Joe Jackson’s nemesis, Pointy-Boots LaRue?  No, they don’t.  They remember the famous cheater who hung out with Kevin Costner.

No playoffs for you this year, Lakers!  Because if it’s one thing the Timberwolves are good at, it’s losing.  I want to see Lakers fans jumping ship like it’s the Titanic.  And the last three people on board are Kobe, Dwight and Nash playing their stupid million dollar violins.  Kobe will turn to those two and say “Gentlemen, it’s been an honor playing with you this season.  And when I say honor, I mean it was the worst.  God, you guys suck.”

We created you guys.  The Lakers used to be the Minneapolis Lakers.  There’s no lakes in California, just black tar heroin pits and stripper glitter reservoirs.  You stole our team.  And now 50 years later we’re repaying the debt by ruining your season.  Greg Steimsma will be starting at point guard in both games against Utah.  JJ Barea will be playing center.  A sad and lonely Christian Laettner will be coming out of retirement and starting at PF.  We’re going down, Los Angeles.  And there’s nothing you can do about it.

See you in the Lottery, bitches.

Minneapolis Lakers