Posts Tagged ‘Ricky Rubio’

The Timberwolves currently have a bit of an issue at the point guard position.  Longtime fan-favorite/most-hated Timberwolf Ricky Rubio is clearly on the way out.  Personally, I love Rubio.  But like my non-existent hairline, sometimes it’s best to just realize there’s no saving things.  Kris Dunn appears to be Tom Thibodeau’s favorite for the future, which probably entails standing over his bed at night yelling “REST!  REST!!  NO NIGHTMARES!!!”  However, wee-little Tyus Jones is also coming on very strong.  What to do?

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Ricky Rubio, possibly heading back to Mypos. 

Since Rubio will surely be out of the picture no later than this summer, I’m going to analyze the pros and cons of Kris Dunn vs. Tyus Jones and try to figure out who is best suited to start.

KRIS DUNN

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Kris Dunn, while still at Providence, doing some kind of Licorice Whip or something?  I don’t know how kids dance these days. Photo from fxtribune.com

PROS

 

CONS

  • Those amazing ankle-breakers?  Well, he’s made like one of the shots that followed those.  That’s about as useful as doing a hand-stand on a car that’s driving into Lake Minnetonka.
  • He’s a rookie but is already almost 23, which makes him the oldest player on the Timberwolves. (Okay, not really, but kinda.  The Timberwolves probably couldn’t rent a car between the 12 of them.)
  • He’s the reason I am probably going to have to take my autographed Ricky Rubio poster and put it down in the basement next to the mouse traps and the giant painting of myself that I’m too embarrassed to display but am too egotistical to throw away.

 

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Somebody made it for me and I gave them $50, okay?  Shut up. 

TYUS JONES

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Tyus really needs to quit vaping. Photo from basketballpapers.com

PROS

  • One of the best shooters on the Timberwolves.  Did I make the prettiest girl at the meth clinic joke already?
  • Minnesota native like Bob Dylan, Kevin McHale and Tay Zonday.
  • Looks like a Furby.

 

CONS

  • Nikola Pekovic almost gets more playing time than him this year and Pek is somewhere in Montenegro right now laying on a couch drinking blood from a cauldron.
  • Minnesota native.  Nobody wants to criticize a hometown prodigy.  I’m from Iowa and we’ve had to pretend like we like Slipknot for like 20 years.  Nobody deserves that.
  • Has not returned any of my tweets asking if I can have his seat on the bench when he doesn’t play for 10 games straight.

 

In conclusion, we’re screwed.  Business as usual!

Next up we play the Suns in Phoenix.  They’re on a bit of a hot streak right now.  Here’s to hoping a wild herd of javelinas drags Eric Bledsoe off before the game.

GO WOLVES!

 

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Photo from thumbs.dreamstime.com

Okay, so the Timberwolves Nation got a little ahead of ourselves.  We won three in a row, anointed ourselves the new NBA Champions and then in truly Wolves-y fashion got our asses handed to us by a 55 year old German, Steph Curry’s supposed brother and JJ-freaking-Barea.  Getting schooled by Barea is like an ex-girlfriend suddenly dating George Clooney.  It’s confusing and they don’t deserve it.

A lot of Wolves fans are beginning to question whether Zach LaVine is the cause of this pendulum swing.  He got hurt, we won three, then he comes back and we lose badly.  It’s not LaVine.  It’s because we are a very talented, young team that is better at sharing Snapchat pics than the ball.  And as Wolves fans we’ve spent the better part of a decade and a half wildly blaming everything and everyone in the organization short of official Timberwolves DJ, Mad Mardigan, who admittedly I haven’t seen practicing free throws.  Here’s a list of people who’ve been blamed for all of our woes over the years and the criticisms lobbed at them:

Glen Taylor –  (Cheapskate, creepy, only hires friends, looks like an emaciated Kelsey Grammer)

Kevin Garnett’s supporting cast – (They were just KG’s friends signed to huge contracts, Troy Hudson’s rap album was the only thing worse than his game, Latrell Sprewell turned down a $14 million contract because “I need to feed my kids” which means his kids apparently ate diamonds, Sam Cassell hurt himself doing a “Big Balls” dance which is less a criticism than an awesome fact.)

Kevin McHale – (Gifted the Boston Celtics a championship by trading Kevin Garnett for two Bob Cousy basketball cards and Aerosmith’s “Get A Grip” CD, looks like Frankenstein if he left his clothes hanger in his sport coat)

David Kahn – (Everything you can possibly imagine and it’s all true)

Jonny Flynn – (We do not speak of him outloud but at least the “H” in “Johnny” knew what was up and got out)

Kurt Rambis – (A shitty version of Phil Jackson, wouldn’t even wear his dork glasses which is the only reason anybody ever really liked him)

Kevin Love – (Primadonna, two-faced, stat-stuffer, Benedict Arnold, won a championship without us and doesn’t seem sad enough about it)

Ricky Rubio – (Can’t shoot, drafted before Steph Curry, too handsome and huggable, doesn’t break ankles like Kris Dunn even though Kris Dunn hasn’t made one shot after those moves and you’re all 14 years old)

Andrew Wiggins – (Too Canadian/nice, isn’t LeBron James in his third year, analytics nerds who play more NBA 2K than actual basketball think he is the worst player since the chubby kid from “Teen Wolf”)

Thibs – (Hasn’t made us perfect after 41 games, somehow has hair and is bald at the same time, won’t play Brandon Rush for unknown reasons which maybe include Rush hitting on Thibs’ non-existent wife)

Zach LaVine – (Possibly made us lose one game against Dallas)

Relax, Wolves fans.  Someday we are going to be great.  Or we’ll screw it up, lose all our players and do the same thing for another 15 years.   Enjoy!

Next up we play the Spurs in San Antonio.  Maybe this will be one of those games where Popp sits all his players just to piss people off?

GO WOLVES!!!

 

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Photo from img.apmcdn.org

Minnesota Timberwolves head coach Tom Thibodeau is a loud son of a bitch.  His voice cuts through all the noise during a game and his is almost all you hear whether you’re watching at home, at the game or listening to a death metal band at the State Theater down the street.  He sounds like what I imagine Tom Waits would if you were punching him while he was taking a poop.

Thibs’ demeanor often gets judged, but what people don’t know is that underneath it all he’s just misunderstood.  I grew up in Iowa amongst farmers who didn’t know how to express their emotions except for grunts and barks and I am fluent in Cookie Monster.  So here’s my translation guide to understanding the true, surprisingly sensitive meaning of Thibodeau’s guttural outbursts on the sideline:

“GO GET IT!!!” – Translation:  “Our dreams are only obtainable if we go for them.  Find your spirit animal.  Mine’s a giant panda that yells at his bamboo.”

“ICE!” – Translation: “Ah shit, Dwight Howard is shooting free throws.  We’re all getting Cherry Berry!”

“RICKY!” – Translation:  Change this face.  Be happy.  Enjoy!

“KARL!!!” – Translation:  “You are the future of our team, Karl.  You’re a lovely human being and I want you to be my Tim Duncan.  That Karlito alter-ego thing is a bit weird but hey I don’t have any real human relationships because of my bunkering down Cold War era style watching constant loops of Jimmy Butler driving to the game in the hidden camera I installed in his car.  Also, please stop shooting those threes.”

“JOHN LUCAS III!!!” – Translation:  “Is John Lucas III still on our team?”

WHAT THE FUCK?! – Translation:  “WHAT THE FUCK?!”

“Practice is important. The regular season is important. Your meetings are important. Your walk-through is important. Everything is important. You want to be a championship team, there’s a price to pay. And that’s what you have to do. There’s no shortcuts. You can’t shortcut your way to success.” – Translation: “WHAT THE FUCK?!?!”

“*gurgling noise*” – Translation:  “I had too much pastrami before the game and my heart-attack is imminent.”

Next up we play the Rockets at home on Wednesday.  If we can build a 25 point lead with 2 minutes left in regulation maybe we’ll only lose by ten?

GO WOLVES!

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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.

 

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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.

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“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!

Things started off so well.  After a 20-3 lead in the first quarter against the Grizzlies, I all but anointed us the new superpower in the West.  We were going to topple the Golden State Warriors in the Western Conference Finals and then sweep the Cavs in a series that without doubt would make LeBron James start checking out homes in Plymouth next to Cole Aldrich’s duplex.  Karl-Anthony Towns was on his way to a 51 point night, Andrew Wiggins would become meaner than KG at Carmelo and La La Anthony’s anniversary party and Kris Dunn and Ricky Rubio would sign a blood pact to work together forever and have 100 assists per game until 2030.

Then we got Wolvesy.

Towns stopped scoring, Wiggins missed free throws that a real mean person would have made and Ricky’s shot almost missed the backboard, which is actually a slight improvement for him.  Did I miss the memo about the Grizzlies hitting threes all of a sudden?  The Grizzlies don’t shoot threes!  That’s like Bowser suddenly being the fastest accelerator in Mario Kart.  These are not the rules we agreed upon!  Bowser’s fat ass takes forever to get going, nobody gets to be Odd Job in Goldeneye and the Memphis Grizzlies are plodding, bulbous sea-cows who don’t hit anything out of bean bag toss range.

We got cocky.  And that’s Minnesota Karma Punishment 101.  We don’t get arrogant in Minnesota.  We bundle up, plug in our Vitamin D lights so we don’t get seasonal depression and imagine that everything horrible that could happen will, because it usually does.  I once wore shorts on an unseasonably warm day in April and then it stayed cold until the first week of June and it’s ALL MY FAULT.

So now we have our attitude readjusted to proper Upper Midwest standards.  We are going to be good, but damnit we haven’t earned the swagger yet and we paid for it against the Grizzlies.  Remember Kevin Love?  He was a miserable bastard who hated every second of his life here and we won 40 games his last season!  That’s like being undefeated by Timberwolves standards.  I recommend that all Wolves players not properly familiar with the Minnesota mindset recite this to themselves every night before bed:  “We don’t deserve to win.  We are the Brooklyn Nets with less hope.  We are the Philadelphia Sixers if they were dumb enough to think they were a real basketball team.  The Washington Generals have a better chance of beating the Globetrotters than we do of making two shots in a row.  We should really just stick to what we’re good at, which is convincing ourselves that living in a tundra is normal and not talking to people unless we’ve known them for 15 years.”

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Nemanja Bjelica demonstrating the proper way to act in Minnesota.  Also, did you know that Bjelica has a first name?  It’s pronounced “Noot-Bot”.

That ought to appease the karma gods.  81-1 here we come!

Saturday night we play the Kings in Sacramento.  We’ll probably lose to them because they are the most dysfunctional team in the NBA and we are horrible people who deserve everything that’s coming to us.

Go Wolves!

OMG OMG OMG!  Tom Thibodeau is our coach!

I realize this is a few days late, but I live in Minneapolis.  Prince died and everything officially shut down while a giant chunk of downtown became a three-day dance party.  We lost our purple president.  It’s like if 69 Kevin Garnetts died.

However, I’ve had a moment to regroup and it’s time to re-commence my excitement:

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Come on ride the Thibs Train! Yeehaw! (Photo: Andy Lyons/Getty Images)

Yes, there are concerns about his overplaying players, driving them into the ground and therefore causing unneeded injuries.  That may or may not be true, but it’s a small concern.  If you’ve been driving a Ford Focus for 15 years, you don’t complain because your new Ferrari doesn’t have a cup-holder.

Many people are wondering how our young team is going to fit in with this hard-nosed workhorse.  Will they fall apart under the pressure or flourish with the new discipline? Here’s how I predict it will go with each player individually:

Karl-Anthony Towns – KAT is going to be a 25ppg/12 rpg player next year.  Thibs’ intensity will only make him work harder and he’ll become a top ten player on his way to eventually becoming the greatest big man in NBA history.  Basketball will be renamed “KATball” and every player will be required to have an imaginary friend.  He’ll be elected ruler of the new world when we colonize Mars and will rule over 1000 years of peace.  I’m freaking out!  I LOVE KAT!!!

Andrew Wiggins – This will go either one of two ways.  Either his nice-guy Canadian DNA will cause him to wither in the face of a screamy, meany-face coach or it’ll unlock his inner mutant like Deadpool. I’m hoping for the latter. In fact, Wiggins won’t fully arrive until he becomes so enraged that he rips Thibs’ throat out like a vampire and sets the Cannuck flag on fire, screaming “I denounce everything Canadian and hereby proclaim my home as HELL!”

Ricky Rubio – It’s really hard to imagine our little Care Bear Ricky with tough-guy Thibs.  It’s also hard to imagine his knees holding up under the work.  The good news is, Ricky could never jump before, so he can blow his knees out 250 times and still have the same speed/vertical.  I think Thibs is going to execute 45 shooting coaches to make this work.

Zach LaVine – LaVine is the only one out of this group that I think will be unfazed by all the ferocity.  LaVine is just too chill and oblivious.  I’m pretty sure Thibs could strangle LaVine’s hamster in front of him and he’d still be wondering if he set his DVR to record “Empire”.

Kevin Garnett – Thibs is Garnett.  Garnett is Thibs.  They are a match made in heaven.  If these two men were mob bosses and I got caught ratting on them, I’d hang myself so I wouldn’t have to get skinned alive, rolled in honey, thrown to a genetically modified killer bear, then beaten to death with a folding chair on fire.

Shabazz Muhammad – Guess who’s not going to be sneaking girls into hotel rooms when he’s not supposed to anymore?

Gorgui Dieng – Dieng runs like a choo-choo train. Look at him next time he plays.  He doesn’t move up or down when he runs and his arms hang low like they’re on the tracks.  This has nothing to do with Tom Thibodeau but I’ve been wanting to say that for a while.

Nikola Pekovic – Upon hearing about Thibs’ hiring, Pek’s legs immediately turned to dust.  Pek is currently a $20 million cloud floating over Yellowstone National Park.

Nemanja Bjelica – One soft European + one insanely psychotic, heart-attack-waiting-to-happen coach = What could go wrong?

Adreian Payne – Adreian has a lot of talent.  Maybe Thibs can unlock that and scare away some of those stupid extra vowels in the process?

Tyus Jones – Probably the only player who, if Thibs makes him sad, can run back to their mother in Burnsville.  Nothing a Karmelkorn Treat Center stop at the Burnsville Mall can’t fix.

Tayshaun Prince – Thibs and Tayshaun will spend most of the year reminiscing about graduating high school together.

Damjan Rudez – Rudez also looks forward to being introduced to the team.

Greg Smith – 10 day contract guys are like handjobs.  Are they really worth counting?

Next up for us is a lottery pick and free-agency.  Let’s sign all of them!

Go Wolves!