I have one solitary piece of artwork on my walls, and it is this: A poster of the 2005 Minnesota Timberwolves team signed by each respective player. It was a gift. In case you didn't know, this was the greatest professional basketball team in Minnesota since George Mikan was roaming the lane in your librarian's glasses for the Minneapolis Lakers. They made the Western Conference Finals behind the league MVP in Kevin Garnett and the LVP in Mark Madsen (who was actually the one player who didn't sign it. It would have great depreciated it's value). They were an incredible blend of thugs, really really white guys, and aliens. Every morning, I have the privilege of rolling over in bed only to be greeted by the lovely Wally Szczerbiak and the most beautiful extra-terrestrial to ever grace the hardwood, Sam Cassell. If that doesn't inspire greatness, then you might not have it in you. Every night, I gaze at their faces and say a little prayer of thanks that I don't look like Sam Cassell. I would imagine that there must have been some intense deliberating on whether or not to include the mongloid in the poster, someone probably lost their job. But have you seen his wife? It's nice to see that she's carrying his child and everything but you know she's only with him for the money and alien genetic code. You may have noticed that I have fallen in love with links, but words will always fall short in attempting to describe the monstrosity that is Sam Cassell. Great guy, one of my favorite players... But hideous. The point is that I looked at the poster recently and decided that the Timberwolves have always sucked. This poster has captured the worst best team that a franchise has ever had and put it in a time capsule. It's more of a testament to the greatness of KG than anything else, but if you don't laugh out loud at the mere mention of some of these names... Then you, like most people, don't give a shit about the Timberwolves.
Now don't get me wrong, the poster is my most valuable possession even though I've always been a Bucks fan and thought about selling it numerous times. But it was a gift, and what would I do with all of that money anyways? You see, it wasn't just that I had no concept of money or the value of a bunch of a illegible sharpie. It was that I seemed to overrate every single player on the team. By my estimation, there were 6 hall-of-famers on the squad. At least. There are the obvious ones... Kevin Garnett gets in based on trash talk alone and being the first player to intentionally goaltend every single shot after the whistle. Did you know that KG told Carmelo Anthony that his wife lalala smelled like Honey Nut Cheerios? Incredibly original! It's easy to forget the kind of offensive juggernaut that the Big Ticket was with the Timberwolves since he was able to tone it back and become more focused on defense with the Celtics. 24 points on 50% shooting, 14 rebounds and 5 assists with a steal and two blocks per game in his best statistical season. But he was also a born leader and had the ability to get into people's head, he's just a scary dude. Not the kind of guy you would want/be able to see in a dark alley at night. Wally Szczerbiak gets into the hall for the most on court proposals by swooning women and for being one of the worst players to ever make the all-star team (I had to triple check that one). Cassell should be obvious by now, the lovable goon absolutely killed it in ET. Latrell Sprewell is also a given; he invented spinners (I think he did but I'm not going to look into it), and then promptly inserted them into his shoes.... all so he could feed his family! Class act that one, finally someone who had the balls to choke his coach when PJ threatened to keep food off of his family's table. Everyone knows that being the number one overall pick gets you the automatic bid into the hall of fame, especially if you are distinguished enough to be remembered as the worst number one pick of all time (Anthony Bennett is giving him a run for his money). So Michael Olowakandi gets the nod. Plus, shitty players don't get nicknames as amazing as the Kandi-man. Troy Hudson gets the lifetime achievement award for his accomplishments both on and off of the court. He had some dope braids on the court, and some even more dope beats as T-Hud the rapper. Unfortunately for the beats, he was the worst rapper in NBA history (yes, worse than Shaq and Allen Iverson). Have a listen. But wait, there's another obvious one. Mark Madsen was the whitest player to ever play in the NBA, and got paid millions of dollars for being one of the worst players as well. Did the Timberwolves really think that he was the crucial missing piece that would put them over the top? Or maybe they thought that it was addition by subtraction, with the Lakers being devastated by the loss of his lovable antics, fresh bread, and dance moves. Please watch to the end.
And those are just the obvious ones. There are equally memorable players that helped create the balance of thug/white. "Dead-eye Fred" Hoiberg didn't miss a three pointer all season and was known for the cruel nickname coined for his lazy eye (fact checkers are overrated). Ervin "not magic" Johnson never got into Hogwarts and still would have traded places with Magic even after the HIV fiasco. Trenton Hassel made high socks uncool foreverr. Ndubi Edi was Kevin Garnett's heir apparent, drafted out of high school probably because his name is kind of fun to say. I'm not sure if he ever played a minute. Anthony Carter seemed pretty cool. There's some guy that I don't even know, and I'm too lazy to research someone who got less playing time than Mark Madsen. Now death is never ever funny without exception, but sometimes it is hilarious. Does anyone remember Eddie Griffin, the basketball player (RIP)? During his one year stint with the Timberwolves, his most noted achievement was getting in a DUI fender bender when he rear ended someone while masturbating to pornography on his in-dash television (I always wondered what those were for, now I know). Apparently he never quite got that in hand (PI), because he died shortly after when his SUV struck the side of a moving train. I can testify that sometimes it's hard (PI) to look away. Oh, and the .26 blood-alcohol level may have contributed. Good stuff.
Somehow that rag-tag bunch of misfits made it to the western conference finals before being ousted by a team with actual hall-of-famers, the Lakers (the Karl Malone, Gary Payton Lakers). Somehow, this team had the original "big three" of KG, Yoda, and the family man, Sprewell (I'm not sure Garnett believed that anything was possible until he left Minnesota). Somehow, this is the best Minnesota professional basketball has to offer. And somehow, this poster if comforting for me. It is my crucifix, my dream catcher, and my Bob Marley poster all rolled (PI) into one. Behold it, in all of it's glory!
... the bidding starts at 25,000 dollars.
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