Posts Tagged ‘stand-up’

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.

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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:

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Photo from s304.photobucket.com/user/nbacardDOTnet

 

 

 

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“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!!!

 

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