Wattching Basketball: Watt's Wolves Woes

GAME 82

It had to be the Denver Nuggets. Those baby blue and yellow clad monsters that haunt my dreams. They had to be the one team standing in the way as the Minnesota Timberwolves look to seal the deal on their first playoff trip in 14 seasons. As I prepare for my long suffering to perhaps finally come to end with a winner take all 82nd game, I must be reminded of the quintessential moment of eternal hopelessness that has consumed my Timberwolves fandom in the years since we refused to feed Latrell Sprewell’s family.

I take you back to that fateful night Feb. 20th, 2012. I am but a spry young college freshman nestled in my bed and up past midnight on a Monday with my laptop aglow. Why you ask? Because my beloved Timberwolves are playing the Denver Nuggets out in the dreaded Mountain Time Zone. The game has been an absolutely electric back and forth affair between two young and hungry team. The Timberwolves find themselves down 102-99 with just 5 seconds remaining in OT. Denver was just past midcourt and about to inbound the ball after a Wolves foul. It was going to take a miracle to pull off a win. But I had genuine hope for the first time in many moons. That season itself had already felt like a minor miracle. A young mop topped hot shot Spaniard by the name of Ricky Rubio had finally made his journey across the Atlantic after 2 long years to electrify the league with his no look bounce passes and fancy dribbling antics. Kevin Love was rounding into a bona fide star raining jumpers down and cleaning the glass to the tune of damn near 30 points and 15 rebounds per game. He appeared to pose a legitimate threat to Larry Bird’s standing as the greatest oversized white man in league history. The team stood a rather shocking 16-16, nearly matching their 17 win total of the previous season and was right in the mix of playoff teams as the midseason approached. An extended players’ lockout had reduced the league schedule to 66 games giving every subpar team that extra glimmer of hope that they could sneak into the playoffs with a sudden hot streak. There was a genuine excitement in the air for the first time since Kevin Garnett had demanded his trade to Boston leaving Target Center a den of sadness.

Back to the game at hand. Martell Webster a speedy guard and respectable 3 point shooter, essentially a best case scenario for this moment, somehow managed to steal the inbound pass. I filled with naive euphoria as he sprinted up the court, potential game tying shot in hand. This gleeful ignorance quickly gave way to shock and dismay as he blew past the unguarded 3 point line, didn’t even look in the general direction of several wide open teammates and threw down a ferocious rim rattling uncontested dunk with just a second remaining to assure the Wolves a one point defeat. The pure audacity of the idiocy of this act shook me to my very core. I knew then that these were in fact, the same old Timberwolves I begrudgingly loved. There was no joy to be found here. A few weeks after this stunning loss, Rubio would tear his ACL, the wheels would fall off and the team finished dead last in the Western Conference at 26-40. This was still somehow the most games they had won in 5 years.

This singular moment of shattered promise stands out amongst and fully encapsulates the sea of hardship and hardwood depravity my eyes have witnessed while donning my oversized Wally Szczerbiak jersey:

I’ve watched a stoned out of his mind Mike Beasley hoist jumpers 50 ft in the air during warmups, not even pretending to prepare for the game.

I’ve watched Steph Curry develop into one of the greatest point guards in the history of the league after we drafted not 1 but 2 players at that same position directly ahead of him in the 2009 Draft.

I’ve watched Darko Milicic start for entire seasons and toss some of the ugliest layups imaginable in the general direction of the rim.

I’ve watched Kevin Love at the height of his career, miss 66 games and tank our entire season because he broke his hand “doing pushups.”

I’ve watched Nikola Pekovic get paid tens of millions of dollars to look grumpy in a suit because his ankles were constructed with Serbian auto-parts.

I’ve watched Brandon Roy trick the team into signing him for 2 years despite being retired and having literally no cartilage left in his knees.

I’ve watched Derick Williams I’m pretty sure. I mean we drafted him 2nd overall after Kyrie Irving. I’m pretty sure he was on the team at some point. Couldn’t tell you any specific memories of that.

I’ve watched Zach Lavine develop from a dunk contest freak to an absolute offensive weapon only to have his knee blown out because we can’t have nice things.

I’ve watched 7 previous head coaches shuffle in and out with promises of growth and rebuilding and instead giving minutes to something called Lou Amundson.

I’ve watched Tom Thibodeau reassemble the 2014 Chicago Bulls, play roughly only 6 players a night, and somehow in spite of himself, make them the most exciting and promising Timberwolves team in 14 miserable seasons. A team that just needs to win one more god forsaken game over those damn Denver Nuggets to make the postseason.

I want to watch a playoff game, damnit.

*Editor's Note: The Wolves did win game 82 and Watt was able to watch the Wolves lose a Western Conference Quarterfinals series 4-1 to the Houston Rockets*