Thunder Go Boom

     "It's important. But I would like to see us get to a point where this is not a big deal. 

It's a big game against the best team, but this is something we can do.''

-Rick Adelman

     Lovin' this quote by Coach A after the T-Wolves' 99-93 homecourt victory over the Oklahoma City Thunder, owners of the current best record in the NBA and, until last night, a 12-game winstreak. The Wolves need Adelman to talk like this, and the team needs to think like this in order to contend--and not just be happy to rebuild and maybe make the playoffs--this season. With the personnel and coaching assembled on the Minnesota roster, there's no reason that--if at full strength--the T-Wolves couldn't be right there in the Western Conference Finals playing against the Thunder for a trip to the NBA Finals. 

     Five shout-outs from last night's game go to:

JJ BAREA

     It was nice to see JJ Barea display the cojones. His 14-point fourth-quarter explosion was just the kind of thing the Wolves signed him for, the kind of thing he occasionally did for the 2010-title-winning Mavericks that earned him the four-year NBA contract with Sota. It can be frustrating watching him pound the ball 17 times in a single halfcourt possession without passing only to drive to the hole and throw up some non-foul-getting trash. But when he's hitting that lovely threeball and dishing and gnatting it up on D all while being only 5-foot-8, he's fun to watch. 

ALEXEY SHVED

     Alexey Shved is shaping right up to be the T-Wolves' missing link at the 2-guard. I'm still salivating at the thought of Shveddy and Rubio eventually getting in sync out there and one-upping each other by flicking beauties to each other and their teammates. Last night's career-high 12 assists to go with a solid 12 points and 7 rebounds was another big step for this 24-year-old rook.

WOLVES INSIDE PLAY

     Made the Thunder look a bit pansy last night. But when the rugged likes of Nikola Pekovic, Andrei Kirilenko, and a less-whiny, more carom-collecting and defensive-minded Kevin Love are going to work for your team, tell me who in the NBA has three skilled bruisers to match? Throw in the woodsy shot-blocking charms of The Steamer and you've got some serious chest hair.

     Love (28 and 11) and Pek (24 and 10) had the stats last night, but here was a game where stats definitely don't tell the entire story because Kirilenko was most the Wolves most valuable frontcourt player. He only had 9 points, 4 rebounds, 2 assists, no blocks, no steals, and the man he was assigned to for much of the game was OKC's Kevin Durant, who scored 33 points. But AK 47,000 does the little things. Spaces the offense by being in the right place. Back cuts to keep the opposing D honest. Is a threat to nail a threeball. Wears on his man, playing straight up, don't need no help D. Fouls at smart times. Gambles at right times. Boxes out his man so somebody else can get the sexy rebound. Gets on the floor. Talks to Kevin Love at the free throw line. Smiles when it's appropriate--you know, like to lift your teammates' spirits. Hustles. Has an extra sensory mode he can call on with fellow Russian Alexey Shved. It wouldn't surprise me if, after the game, he runs down to the laundry room to get towels for the guys if they're short in the locker room, or double-knots Pek's snowboot laces for him, or gives an extra sweater out of his duffel bag to any teammate who hasn't dressed properly for the Arctic weather. 

We three kings of orient are
Tra-veled o-ver to Johan's Bar

CARR AND BEST

     Got in some one-on-one-on-one with two fellows of quality fabric. Even though neither drank enough beer for my liking, Thursday night be damned, they got me out of Katotown for some much-needed hangtime and discussion. 

     Sometimes I feel like if I could get in a gym and play just a single best-of-seven series of one-on-one b-ball versus these guys per week, each game by 1s and 2s up to 9 points (win by 2), my life would be instantly better. They'd have to get used to me beating them regularly again, of course, but the exercise would be good for them, would offset the pain of being defeated time and time again.

JOHAN'S SPORTS BAR AND GRILL

     Cheers to Belle Plaine's homey Johan's, last night's meeting den for the game. Never been there before, but after last night's visit I can certainly say I wouldn't hesitate to go there again. A good halfway meeting point between Kato and the Twin Cities, for sure. May I recommend the Beaver Burger? The Nordeast or Sam Adams on tap? Maybe some bingo against the locals?

Return of the Rubio

     Isn't it nice to watch basketball played with ease? With flair? With joy?
     With leader of the pack Ricky Rubio back in place, the Timberwolves downed the Dallas Mavs in OT Saturday night at Target Center. Though the Spirited Spaniard played a mere 18 minutes out of the 48 minutes possible, he dictated the tone of the way this game was played, had a hand in the outcome, and reminded those who tuned in why basketball is the best game out there. I mean, really, beauty-wise in Minnesota sports, who can beat Tricky Ricky on the fast break? Maybe the Vikes' Adrian Peterson cracking off a long run complete with a juke or two, a broken tackle, or a stiff arm. A Twins' Ben Revere wall catch is now a thing of the past. But then when Ricky does that five or six times in 18 minutes of court time in his return from an ACL tear? No contest.
     Beyond the 9 assists, 8 points, and 3 steals Rubio put up, he repeatedly made his teammates look great by passing to them for open shots. Luke Ridnour's never had more open threes in a game, nor has JJ Barea, and the pass he threw to Greg Stiemsma between his legs was a unbelievable beaut. He fed Pek a laser for a lay-up that tied the game with less than a minute left and nearly won it with a gutsy threeball in the closing seconds of the fourth quarter before the game went to OT and the Wolves' defense took control.
     Absent from the game was one Kevin Love thanks to a sprained thumb suffered the night before in the win in New Orleans. Probably fortuitous for Minnesota, the way Love's been shooting (and acting). Other Wolves stepped up their games, including Kirilenko (who was all over the court), Derrick Williams (who had 16 points and 6 boards in 19 minutes after collecting a lot of dust on the bench the last couple weeks), Greg Stiemsma (three blocks, a pair of buckets, and some necessary toughness against Derek Fisher in a mere four minutes on the court), and Alexey Shved (18 points and 6 assists and the first two points of overtime, which set the tone for the Wolves' endgame runaway, in only his second career start).
     I love this team, and I had a great time watching the game in my living room with my minis and my wife. Archie, in particular, (wearing TWolves headband and shorts) logged more than two hours of time on the TV room hoop, throwing 48 behind-the-back passes to me in the rocking chair and throwing down 213 dunks on the night.
     We love Ricky around here. Ricky loves the game and treats it right.

P.S.: Saw an emotional moment from the closing seconds of the Boston at Houston game Friday night where Kevin Garnett paid a visit to the opponents' bench to offer love to his former GM and mentor Kevin McHale, current coach of the Rockets who recently lost his 23-year-old daughter to lupus. Yeah, these guys never fulfilled promising expectations as main cogs in the Minnesota Timberwolves franchise from the mid-90s through the mid-2000s. But sometimes, you have to stop and appreciate, especially in the midst of sorrow, which is certainly on all Americans' minds in the wake of yesterday's Connecticut schoolshooting, which is now dominating the news.
     Kevin Garnett was a great player with the Wolves for 12 years, and he brought fans a lot of joy.
     Kevin McHale and his wingman Flip Saunders had a great run of winners in Minnesota, a franchise that was in tatters before them and has been after them. I imagine the pain McHale's feeling these days is as close to unbearable as it gets.

The Trouble With Mr. Double-Double

   
     In 1998, 22-year-old Stephon Marbury was the second-best player on a Minnesota Timberwolves team that was on the brink of something special. The Timberwolves had just come off the first winning season (45-37) in franchise history the previous campaign, and with budding superstar Kevin Garnett and leading scorer Tom Gugliotta by his side--with excellent veteran players Sam Mitchell and Terry Porter (who would both later become head coaches in the NBA) there for support--Marbury, the team's high-revving point guard, held the keys to a very sexy automobile.
     Then the NBA owners locked out the players--in part because the Glen Taylor signed Garnett to a $126 million dollar contract, which was more than the team, or any team, could afford. When the lockout ended, the Wolves made numerous mistakes (see this excellent article by Steve Aschburner written last year, about it) and Marbury realized that the most he could make under the newly-reached deal was $71 million, or $55 million less than Garnett, and demanded a trade because he couldn't handle making so much less than someone he saw as his equal, in terms of star power. Which led to the Wolves giving in and traded Marbury to New Jersey. Which led to a plummeting of the Wolves' potential. Which led to them never finding another point guard with the same zoom, a chemistry with the same verve, or much success in the playoffs.
     And what did Marbury get out of it? Well, he stunk enough on a cruddy New Jersey team to get traded to the Phoenix Suns where he played well but never had any teammates at the level of, say, a Kevin Garnett, and then he got traded to the Knicks. But by that time, his greed and poor attitude had overshadowed his ability, and then he subsequently got a bold head tattoo and was soon eating Vaseline and crying on the Internet at the end of his NBA career.
     Fast forward to today, and the issues Minnesota's having with Kevfon Lovebury.
     By now you may've read Adrian Wojnarowski's story over at Yahoo Sports that features Kevin Love unloading on T-Wolves management, decrying the lack of respect with which he feels he's been treated since Minnesota signed him to a four year, $62 million contract rather than the maximum five year, $80 mil deal, and suggesting that the Wolves don't get him any help or know what they're doing. I have a number of issues with Love's gripe. Let me bust out some roman numerals to list them off.
  I. You signed the deal, Kevin. You. Signed. The deal.
  II. You signed the deal last year. Your chance to complain has long since expired.
  III. You have a $62 million contract over the next four years. Sixty-two million dollars is a lot of money to make in four years. A lot of people, including me, would be thrilled to make one-quarter of a million dollars in the next four years. Thrilled. You will be paid 248 times the amount that I would be thrilled with making while doing a job I would be 64 billion times more excited doing than the job I have now. A lot of Americans don't have jobs since the recession. Try not to be 248 more times out of touch than you should be.
  IV. The max deal is for Ricky Rubio, not you. Rubio's the one who comes in and makes the whole team look better, including you. This is a big part of this problem of yours, I sense--that you're not the alpha wolf. Fair enough that you want to be. But look how the team did with you "leading the way" before Rubio came. Look how the Wolves instantly improved when Rubio showed up last year. Look how the team has fared since you came back this year. Watch how it will play when Rubio gets back. Marked contrasts.
  V. That hand injury still stinks, and you launching flat-assed threeball after threeball while attempting to work out the kinks in your broke stroke isn't helping this team. You think Rubio's going to come back and try to break a bunch of ankles on his repaired ACL? No. He's going to throw sweet passes and take care of the ball. You, Kevin, should park your ass down low and hit the boards.
  VI. You need to play some defense. The one-on-one D isn't scaring anyone. The help D is virtually non-existent. The greats play both ends of the court. Until you buy into that, you're not fooling anybody who really knows the game. Which makes me wonder...if you really know the game.
  VII. You're young. You're 24. Earn something before bitching so much. A playoff victory would be nice. And double-doubles don't count. I'd like to contend that the double-double crap is the most overblown, empty stat out there. Any self-respecting big man should get a double double each and every game by simple virtue of not sucking.
  VIII. That broken knuckle injury that cost you the start of the season is still pretty fresh. And complaining that nobody believed you when you said you did it working out was pretty lame. I, for one, don't believe it, not when those two knuckles are the most commonly broken when throwing a punch. Even if you did break them doing "knuckle push-ups..."that was dumb. Let's see, you missed more than 10% of the season. What's 10% of your salary? And you made that for doing nothing? And you have the audacity to insinuate that the Wolves are shortchanging you?
  IX. You need to consider your fans. You know, the people that make your salary possible. You wanna have a gripe with management, you better separate that from the way you treat the fans. An interview with Adrian Wojnarowski is going to be read by the fans. You need to remember that. Or have personal manager or trainer remind you. Unless you recently broke your hand on their face punching them and they don't work for you any more.
  X. You're too into yourself. When you hit that three-ball for the win vs the Clippers last year, I was really excited...until I saw your celebration, which should have won an ESPY for most most self-serving display of the year. Go ahead and watch this video that shows your fatal flaw--if you can stomach it. Observe the video closely from the 10-second mark to the 21-second mark in particular. You know, the part where your teammates mob you and you leave them all hanging, refusing any hug or even eye contact, complete with a re-thrusting of the arms-out, I-Am-The-Greatest pose at the 21-second mark, in case we didn't get it the first time.
  Gross.
  You want to raise your stock? Be more aware of your teammates. Throw that sweet full-court outlet pass for a lay-up more often than once a month. Pass the ball to Pekovic out of the high post. Kick it out to Shved for a three more often. Hit Kirilenko on a back-cut like everybody else on teh team seems capable of doing. Guard your man instead of cherry-picking someone else's rebounds. Quit hanging out under the basket complaining to the refs about a no-call while your man beats you down the court. Shut the pie hole. Play some ball.
     Damn.

P.S.: Watching ol' crotchety Garnett hustle around last week in the Celtics' 104-94 win over the Wolves in Boston was bittersweet to say the least. Especially in light of this latest Love mouth-off, I miss the hell out of KG. Guy never really said much in the press against management over 12 years, even when trade rumors swirled. He still plays hard, plays hurt, plays D, works within the team framework, raises the level of intensity every game...and it sucks that he's doing it in green and white at the end of his career.
P.P.S.: Anyone remember that ESPN "All Nude" commercial with KG and Marbury before things between them went awry? So young. So much potential. So much magnetism. At least Marbury's had a rebirth in China. Good for him. And if you haven't seen this video where he hits a trio of ridiculously-long shots back-to-back-to-back, you should.
P.P.P.S: Good place to watch a game in 'Kato is Nakato bar and grill. A block off highway 169 into North Mankato for travelers passing through. Tasty beers on tap, an excellent steak sandwich, good TV screens, friendly staff, remodeled place. Caught a portion of the Wolves' Friday win over the Cavs there with Nick Healy, who, by the way, is a good guy to watch a game with. His stories about his own ball-playing career in St. Paul in the late '80s were cracking me up.

Irene Callender and the Big Assist

                               Irene and her boys

     Tuesday night I listened to the Wolves on the radio as I drove down to the small town of Alpha, Minnesota. The Wolves were in Philly taking on the 76ers, and from the sounds of it on WCCO, they were having themselves quite a first half. Threeball after threeball went through for them as they built a 20-point first-half lead and my Subaru ate up the miles on Highway 60 West, County Road 4 South, and I-90 West from Mankato to Alpha. Alexey Shved was heating up, JJ Barea was passing for easy ones and hitting his own shot, and the Sixers couldn’t buy a bucket. But I was thinking about the old days.

     The reason I was heading to Alpha (pop. 116) was to pay my respects to a great woman by the name of Irene Callender. Irene passed away December 1 after a bout with pancreatic cancer, but not until she had spent 90 and a half full years on this earth. You may not have known Irene (I only met her a handful of times, myself), but you know her type. She was one of those people who prop up other people, one of those people who step up to the plate, who get their hands dirty, who make things go. As her life pertained to mine, she was the lifeline for and grandmother of one of my best friends, Ronnie Gasca, and his younger brother Randy.

     I first met Ronnie when my high school hoops teams were whipping his high school teams’ butts in southwestern Minnesota. A couple years later, we came together to play on the same college ball team at Worthington Community College (now called Minnesota West), and we roomed together there, too, after Ronnie got kicked out of his apartment halfway through the year when his dipstick roommates failed to pay the electricity or some dumb thing and the management locked the doors and cut the lights (which Ronnie found out one night after practice when he arrived home to find deadbolts, gone roommates, and darkness). At Worthington, Ronnie was the only guy I ever played with who I didn’t mind bumping me over from the point to the two-guard, and as a result, I had the most fun and successful year of basketball of my entire life—we made the national tourney in Elmira, New York, and finished 7^th in the nation, best in Bluejay history to this day.

     But what I remember more about that year than Ronnie’s sweet dishes and Casey Werner’s automatic turnaround J and Adam Hale’s lucky jockstrap named Ol’ Blue were the good people I met that year. Coach Mike Augustine, who possessed the biggest heart of any coach I ever had, Mike and Karen Fury, Denny Hale, Arlo Mogck, Jerry Jansen, the genius Becky Potts, Muff Teerink, Weime, Reusche, the good folks at the Daily Globe, and yes, Irene Callender.

     I went to Irene’s house once after we watched Ronnie’s bro Randy play in a game for Jackson High. Randy hadn’t had a great game and his team had lost, but Ronnie and I went to go say hey to him at Gram’s house where he lived, because that’s what you did after those games—go say hey to the folks and have something to eat. Randy was in a foul mood, especially after Ronnie asked him why he’d missed so many shots that night—nice question, Ronnie—and soon they were about to start brawling. But before anything other than words could start flying, in stepped the littlest, sweetest old lady I’d seen. “Randy!” she said. “Ronnie!” And then, like dogs who hear their master, her grandsons ceased and desisted. I couldn’t believe such a sweet-looking grandma could have such an effect on a pair of wild young buckaroos like that.

     I would meet Irene a number of times after that, and I’d hear Ronnie talking to his Gram on the phone in the years to come, going to her when he needed something: advice, food, a little cash, a laugh, love. She gave it all to those boys for many years when they didn’t have much else in the town they grew up in. I remember how Ronnie told me once that when Irene’s husband passed when those boys were still pups, he made her vow, just before he died, that she’d take care of those boys and see them through. I found it fitting that in the last three months of Irene’s life, Ronnie moved her into his family’s home.

So I made it to Alpha, and I drove around town three times—which took less than five minutes—the Wolves on the radio, looking for the funeral home so I could attend the wake. No luck, and not much going on. So I did what you do in a small town when you can’t find someone: just go to the house with the most lights on, most cars in the driveway, knock on the door, and ask. Might sound crazy, but the girl who answered the door got her mother and father without batting an eye, and the two of them treated me with care, the lady saying, “Oh, I always liked Irene,” and the father directing me six miles down the road to Jackson where I found the funeral home without a problem and met Ronnie, Randy, and Irene’s other loved ones. After the wake, we went out for some food, because that’s what you do in these small towns—you see the folks and have something to eat. I met Ronnie’s son Christian, and Randy’s son Preston, both two years old and full of the jumping beans. I talked to Ronnie’s wife Sonja and her daughter Maddie, beauties both. I talked to some of the old folks. When I got my wallet out to pay my bill, Ronnie told me it was already paid for.

     “What?” I said. “Who paid?”

     “Gram did,” Ronnie said. “She said she wanted to make sure we had something to eat.”

     Of course.

     Irene Callender was buried today, but she lives on in my friend and his brother. Bless her.

Alexey, Archie, & Violette

     Hit the Target Center last Friday night to watch the Pups down the Milwaukee Bucks. Took two of my humans-in-training, Archie, 4, and Violette, 6, which colored the entire experience as only taking a kid to a game can.

     Archie’s highlights for the experience included: wondering at the furry TV-shaped My29 mascot greeting fans as we entered the concourse, riding the escalators, sticking his hand between my hands when I clapped, and sitting in the “high” seats. I’d make fun of myself for being chintzy here by buying the cheapest tickets available…if the cheapest tickets didn’t cost $29 per seat, which Archie forwent most of the game anyway as he sat on my lap.

     Violette’s highlights included walking the streets of Minneapolis from the parking garage to the Target Center, riding the elevators and escalators, walking around the concourse deciding what concessions her tummy was most hungry for at halftime, choosing a Klondike bar (and eating about four bites before deciding she’d had enough—it was a lot of work, actually, for a person with no front teeth), and procuring a pair of those thunder stix thingies that she banged together the entire fourth quarter.

     The game was pretty lackluster, actually. Two teams of average record, Rubio still out, no awesome runs by either team. Kevin Love was sick, apparently, though we did not know that at the time. His shot sure looked like it had the flu—he was just 5-for-19 for the game, including only 1-for-7 from three-point land.

     Things finally picked up a little when the Bucks nearly evened the score in the fourth quarter and Alexey Shved took over, scoring 10 of his team-high 16 points and making great passes and generally taking care of the ball and the lead. In my opinion, he also executed the most admirable play of the season so far with 2:30 left in the game and the Bucks mounting one last late run. Working the shot clock down and dribbling between half court and the top of the key, he got double-teamed and retreated back and to his right. Just when it looked as if he might be penned in at the intersection of the half-court line and the sideline, he stopped and whipped a one-handed, 50-foot, crosscourt pass to a wide open Luke Ridnour on the left baseline, which Ridnour converted to put the nail in the coffin. Great vision by Shved, and admirable for its unconventionality, degree of difficulty, and clutch factor. I’m liking this guy more and more, and I can’t wait to see him paired with Tricky Ricky.

     With that, we soon left the game, the kids happy and me grateful for the rare chance to watch a game sans subpar, yammering announcers or relegated to poor camera angles that TV provides. It’s a good game, this basketball. Shout out to James Naismith.

     

Waiting for Wonderboy

 

   The Timberwolves recently endured a rough four-game road trip out West, losing three games (vs Portland, Golden State, and the L.A. Clippers) and winning just one (vs the quite hapless Sacramento Kings). The Wolves were in every one of the games—in fact, they took leads into the third or fourth quarter of every contest—but they had major problems finishing, a direct reversal of the way they had finished games the first nine games of the season. Otherwise known as the period before Kevin Love came back from his hand boo-boo.

     Am I saying the Wolves are worse with Kevin Love in the line-up? Not exactly. But I do believe that, though Love is a smart player, he isn’t smart enough to realize that all the individual stats, awards, social attention, and big money isn’t what drives a winner on the court. Look at the way he pouted and insinuated leaving the Wolves after signing a rich four-year contract last year with the Wolves that wasn’t quite rich enough for Kev. This’ll be a problem a few years down the road.

    Anyway, skill combined with unselfishness combined with supreme game awareness is what drives a winner. Lucky for the Wolves, Ricky Rubio knows this (or at least hasn’t let fame or money or jealousy get in the way of his understanding…yet), and as it was announced Wednesday night, he’s been cleared to practice. This means he’ll probably be back in a week or so, in my estimation. That means the Wolves can soon finally look forward to legitimate improvement.

     For now, I’ll assess the roster, individually, with the 6-8 T-Wolves 14 games (or 17%) into the season.

GUARDS

Luke Ridnour – C-

If The Matador isn’t hitting his shot, he’s a major liability to this team. And he has only shot ) . What’s worse, he has been missing more open threes, important free throws, and crunchtime shots in general. On the Western road trip, he was mostly responsible—along with KLove and JJ Barea—for each of the three losses. Against Portland, he got chewed up by rookie Damian Lillard and shot . Against G.S., he was waylaid by Steph Curry, a player in his exact mold but slightly younger and shot . Against the Clippers, he wasn’t much of a match for Chris Paul or Chauncey Billups or Jamal Crawford, and he had four turnovers, including a blundering one during crunchtime.

J.J. Barea - D

This guy is simply overused by the T-Wolves. He should be a twice-a-game, 5-6 minute-stint-at-a-time, change-of-pace pawn. Instead, the Wolves are playing His Delicateness for long stretches where we have to watch him rabbit-dribble away the shot clock and either horse up some fadeaway garbage that gets blocked or falls short or finally pass to a teammate who is forced horse one up to ward off a shot-clock violation. Also, since the NBA warned him for flopping, he’s gotten zero calls from the officials. Kind of a major problem for a little guy who’s game is predicated on drawing fouls.

Malcolm Lee – B+

The second coming of Trenton Hassell (that’s actually a compliment when you remember that the 2003-04 Hassell was the starting 2-guard on the most successful Wolves squad in franchise history) could carve out a nice niche for himself on this team by simply remaining healthy, continuing to play tenacious defense, and developing a more consistent jumper from, say, 15 feet.

Alexey Shved – A-

Shved, mon homme. You are playing better than anyone thought you would (except for me, of course). You have a wealth of all-around skills that make you look a little like Toni Kukoc. You have a new haircut that makes you look like Toni Kukoc. You have earned the trust of Coach A—no small task (ask Derrick Williams). You are not afraid to make a play in the endgame. You are also a favorite character in my fictional bedtime stories to my sons, a character who never understands what Coach Adelman is saying to him and has to ask Kirilenko to translate, is constantly speaking in Russian: Moscow, vodka, Molotov, nyet, nyet, nyet, and going to the mall to try on new American clothes yet likes to throw sweet passes and hit threeballs when not going over to Ricky Rubio’s house for bubble gum ice cream after practice.

Brandon Roy – D+

Honestly, Roy probably helped the Wolves to two wins in the five games he saw action before hitting the DL with a knee injury. Crap, a knee injury. Santa, please bring Roy some new knee joints for Christmas, would you? If he’s somehow healthy enough to play even 20 minutes a game down the road, his steadying hand improves this team tremendously.

Will Conroy – A

Congrats on playing in the NBA. A win, in my book. Would love to see this good guy catch on again, if not with the Wolves, with somebody else.

Ricky Rubio – I

We need this guy back. Too bad the Lockout wasn’t this year instead of last year. I truly feel like everybody will play better once Rubio is back. Ridnour, Shved, Kirilenko, and Love in particular.

FORWARDS

Dante Cunningham – A

Guy is way better than I thought. Averaging 8.1 points and 5.2 rebounds in 23 minute per game. Big hustle, ducks in a row, sticky fingers, defensive force, knack for coming up with loose balls AND can shoot from 16 and in. Great pick-up in the trade for the lackluster Wayne Ellington, now averaging 5 ppg and playing 14 minutes per game in Memphis.

Derrick Williams – C-

I’d say Williams could have a legitimate gripe about his grade. Teacher won’t give him a break. I don’t know what’s going on with Adelman and Williams, but I hope it pays off for Williams down the line. Picking up Josh Howard was either a slap in the face to Williams or just a dumb move by the brain trust. I think Williams can play. Maybe the development of some sort of legitimate midrange game would help, because he has been doinking a lot of threes and getting his shit thrown at the rim. Who’s taking Williams under his wing on this team?

Kevin Love – D

I have three major problems with Love so far this season. One, that knuckle injury was real stupid, no matter how he really got it. To have the gall to complain this offseason about the Wolves not signing him to a bigger contract and bitch about the Wolves never having made the playoffs in his tenure thus far and then leaving Minnesota in the lurch with a dumb injury was foolish. Two, now that he’s back, he seems content to fling up short, flat bricks until his hand starts feeling better. How about just grabbing 30 rebounds a game instead and throwing it to guys who can make it, or are at least open? Three, it’s time to grow up and start playing some real defense. His one-on-one D is average at best, and never intimidating. His help D is appalling, considering his supposed smarts and ability to hustle after rebounds. Where’s the hustle, Kev, when Ridnour or Barea get ceaselessly beat to the rim? His rebounding has been nice, but that’s all the good I have to say at this point.

Andrei Kirilenko – B+

Probably the MVP of the team thus far, he carried the Wolves to their early-season burst. But, like the Wolves, he’s slipped in the games since then, right down to his absence from the last game of the road trip due to back spasms. Love the hustle, the backdoor cuts, the defense, the blocks and steals, the excellent game-winning pass vs Indiana, the veteran influence. But I saw the Boy With the Dragon Tattoo On His Back, Or At Least Dragon Wings Coming Out From Under His Jersey At the Shoulders play much better, consistently, for Russia in the Olympics this summer. I think he’ll be a great match with Rubio.

Josh Howard – C

Why did the Wolves sign him when they needed a guard? I do not know. He seems about as average a player as there is right now. Wish he was Mickael Pietrus.

Chase Budinger – C

Early-season A gets downgraded to C with knee injury that could keep him out the majority of the season. I liked the spring in his step and stroke in his three, but that’s all moot, for now.

BIG GUYS

Nikola Pekovic – B

His excellent toughness, tattoo, ability to draw fouls, and hairline have recently been overshadowed by his glaring inability to shoot with any accuracy outside 6 feet from the hoop.  Would love to send him over to McHale for some work. Except that McHale’s in Houston, now. Jack Sikma’s words of wisdom will have to suffice.

Greg Steimsma – B-

Steimer had a nice couple of games early on before getting buried on the bench. Love his defensive ability, but I think his hands are worse than I thought. Did you see that sweet pass he received cutting to the basket last night? Neither did he!

Louis Amundson – B-

Interesting little piece FSN did on Lou recently where we discovered that he loves to get into philosophical arguments with his look-alike sister and has a weird fear of getting his hair cut. I was hoping he wasn’t quite so one-dimensional (big defensive bod), but he seems to be. Quite.

Coach Adelman – B

Had an A in my book until Love came back. Since then, the Wolves slip in every second half. That’s on the coach. On a side note, what was he sucking on during all the games out West? Cough drops? Peyote? A sore tooth? His cud?

P.S.: Great to see that Fox Sports North is finally ridding itself of Robby Incmacrappski. Never seen such a brown-nosing, ramblingly repetitive, dumb-question-asking dinkus since…well, I have seen lots of people like that. But they shouldn’t draw paychecks as professional sports sideline reporters. Adios, Dingleberry… Now if they can fire the broadcast director who keeps going to the under-the-basket angle at all the wrong times.

Lovegood, Willbad

     The Wolves game versus the Nuggies last Wednesday night took on extra electricity when Kevin Love made his first appearance of the season ahead of schedule, yet the game went south for the Wolves when they reversed course and played worse in the second half instead of vice versa and lost 101-94.
     Love looked energetic and even feisty out there, but his presence in the line-up bogged down the flow for the other players. As RCoach Adelman said to Ray Richardson of the Pi-Press, "We didn't do a good job of cutting when we did give [Love] the ball. We stood and watched. When guys come back, we have to figure out how we're going to do things. That might take a little time."
     At first glance, the 34 points and 14 boards put up would suggest that Love was all the way back from the knuckle push-up (cough, cough) injury that broke the third and fourth metacarpal bones in his right--or main punching--hand. But a closer examination of his shooting form (maybe better termed as "flinging" in his first game back) and resulting stats--2-for9 from three-point land and 8-for-14 from the charity stripe--lead me to believe that the mending phalanges have a ways to go. However, as Love said at halftime, his dad told him to let it fly, and that seemed to be Love's modus operandi, which was fun to watch. That free-firing attitude probably led to Love's throwdown of Kosta Koufas in the third quarter, too, which was a pleasure to watch. I mean, what's Koufas expect when he attacks Love's very weakness (broken hand) on a breakaway? That's right, you get thrown into the row of camera guys. That situation, methinks, has some historical rankling going back to the time where Koufas busted his butt when he was a member of the T-Wolves in many a practice only to see Love get the playing time, and limelight, in games.
     Speaking of playing time, where was Derrick Williams's? Zero minutes and zero seconds? The only guy to get a DNP-CD in the box score? What has Williams done to Adelman to deserve this? The rift between the two must be worse than it appears. I found myself feeling for Williams as he sat...and sat...and sat as the likes of Josh Howard, Greg Steimsma, and Louis Amundson passed his by on the bench on their way to the scorer's table. I've been there a couple times (thanks Gary Thomas, thanks Perry Ford), and it's a situation that screwdrivers your competitive heart. I think Derrick Williams has serious game. I hope he can find it with the Wolves.
     P.S.: Bummer about Brandon Roy's scope surgery on his knee. Hope he can come back and give Minnesota something yet this season (and next, which the Wolves signed him for, too).... Also hoping, maybe, Rubio will beat the rehab timetable like Love did. Obviously very different injuries--incomparable, even--but don't you feel like team attitude goes a long way in rehab duration sometimes? I do.

Hope In the Cold: In Fargo

Participants in the annual Fargo Football Game, L-R: Johnson, Carr, Trefz, LeBoutillier, Best, Burt, Wester.

Each fall we take leave of our families
And migrate northwest from the Twin Cities
Out in the Arctic air where the truth abides
And the bonds of brotherhood are true and tried
And the grass is dying out but we feel alive...
In Fargo
-lyrics from the hit song "Fargo"

     Well, this last weekend was the fourth annual visit to the land of Fargo. We started the trip in 2009 when our friend Matt "T-Bone" Trefz became a pediatric cardiologist M.D. and was transferred up to Fargo. Lonely as hell in Fargo, T-Bone invited us up his way, and we had such a fine time commiserating, eating, imbibing from the fruits of the vine, watching and playing football (yes, ill-advised as it sounds, two-hand touch style) and being men in general, we decided to make an annual event of it--even after T-Bone's loneliness was quelled by the bewitching beauty Karis, now his wife.
     As we were driving up there last Friday night, the Wolves were battling the Golden State Warriors. Danno and I listened in a little on the car radio only to be chided by a half-sleeping Mike Carr a.k.a. "Goofy" (you know, the dumb-looking Disney character) as my three younger kids know him. Goofy is a strange sort of basketball fan. As a lifelong Minnesotan, Goofy is as knowledgable and interested about local sports as any, yet he refuses to support the Wolves--or the Vikings or the Twins for that matter--because...why? I don't know. He likes to complain more when they lose? He has a negative attitude? He wasn't loved as a child? Well, I know it wasn't the last option--Goofy's Mom is a saint, and I feel sorry for her that she had such a weird son.
     Anyhow, I'll give you an example of Goofy's weird attitude toward the Wolves. So Danno and I were listening to the game in the car busting it up I-94, and for most of the second half, the Wolves were getting trounced. But then, like usual this season, they came back in the fourth quarter. Most of the second half, Goofy was out cold in the back seat. But he woke up just in time, apparently, to hear that the Wolves had cut the Warriors' deficit to 94-91, and to comment, "Turn the channel, they're going to lose."
     "They're about to come back," I said, believing in the power of Alexi Shved.
     "Terrible team," said Goofy. "Perennial losers. Shut it off."
     Typical Goofy. Yeah, the Wolves lost, but not just because they're the Wolves, and not just because Goofy wanted them to. Times like that, you'd just like to smack him. I posed five questions to Goofy, which, surprisingly, he answered, the next day. Trefz--who took in one of the Wolves preseason games at the Fargodome earlier this fall--also weighed in on a couple of the questions. The following is a Q & A transcript of our discussion:

Nate Boots: Your childhood was rich with basketball history having grown up in the Bloomington, Minnesota, area. You even played high school basketball for a Minnesota coaching legend in Jack Evens. So why hasn't this knowledge translated to your adulthood?

Mike "Goofy" Carr: It has transferred. Our views on what type of player Darko would be for the Twolves is very telling. You really need to buy a darko jersey soon to fulfill your end of the bet. [Ed. Note: the bet Goofy refers to was a bet wagered in 2010 about Darko Milicic in which I bet Carr that Darko would become an NBA All-Star within the then-recent four-year contract he had signed with the Wolves. I lost this bet, which meant that I would have to refer to Carr as the "Master of Basketball Knowledge" for one calendar year AND buy a Darko jersey which I would wear three times within that calendar year to public events of Carr's choosing. It is the one dark spot on my otherwise largely successful wagering career vs Goofy.]

Boots: You've lived in Minnesota your whole life. Why do you hate the Timberwolves so much?

Carr: If you look at the Wolves' history, it is actually pretty unbelievable how awful this franchise has been. Donyell Marshall, JR Rider, Paul Grant, Rasho Nestorvic,William Avery, Ndubi Ebi (my alltime favorite one), Rashard McCants, Corey Brewer,Johnny Flynn, Wesley Johnson. [Ed. Note: Name misspellings left Carr style.] Not to mention the Stephon Marbury disaster. Ray Allen would have looked good in Twolf uniform. Also, Brandon Roy when he was a rookie and had good knees. Has a 2nd round pick ever panned out? The Joe Smith mess killed them. I liked Flip. How could you root for Sprewell after his "feed the family” comments? Running Flip out, McHale coaching, Firing Casey who actually was doing ok, Rambis running the triangle with a group that couldn't do it, Khanzie, etc. etc. Besides Garnett, Love trade, the hiring of Adelman, and possibly Rubio (yet to be determined), if you looked at this objectively what type of grade would you give this organization? It is very hard to get on board with this track record. 

Boots: What do you make of the Timberwolves' newest Russian additions, Andrei Kirilenko and Alexey Shved?

Carr: I like them. They were fun to watch in the Olympics. Shved looks a lot like Toni Kukoc with the new haircut. I thought AK47 was a good player in Utah.

Trefz: I think they should make a giant banner with the images if Shved, Kirilenko, and Pekovic with the heading "The Iron Curtain".  It will go down in Minnesota sports lore like the Purple People Eaters.  Additionally, there should be a Shveddy Balls night with a signed mini-basketball handed out to each of the first 1,000 kids who show up to the game.  The fact that these two ideas have not yet been hatched and put into action is an epic marketing failure in my opinion.

Boots: When the Timberwolves make the playoffs and surprise people by season's end, what will you be saying then?

Carr: 1) I will be shocked if they make the playoffs. 2) They have to win games at home against Charlotte and Golden State to be taken seriously.  3) Injuries are a part of the game. I was excited last year when they were in the mix and with Adelman coaching.

Trefz: Those are both two giant assumptions.  More likely, your experience with the team this year (and in years to come) will be like that of any garden variety Detroit Lions fan.  

  

Boots: When Tubby Smith gets fired by the Gophers, do you think the Timberwolves should hire him to be their new equipment manager, yes or no?

Carr: No. This needs to be the year for Tubby. Hoping sweet 16. He has the pieces. I am hopeful they can get it done. 

Trefz: Tubby will win a national championship within the next five years and go down as the greatest coach in Gophers history.  By the way, my wife once declared she went out on a date with his son Saul.  This stated while munching on mediocre chicken as she was obliged to watch to the Gophers lose to Iowa in spectacular fashion with an appalled and gloomy table partner at a Buffalo Wild Wings...because the GD Big Ten Network isn't carried in the Cable One standard cable package in Fargo, ND!!  I always assume she's lying when she says stuff like that, but I could be wrong.       

END of TRANSCRIPT

     Though the Wolves lost Friday, the weekend was a success. I'll enjoy calling these two fellows up in a few months to ask if they'd like to hit a Wolves playoff game or two.