Last night I plopped down on the couch to watch the Minnesota Timberwolves game, and no I don’t watch the games for the reasons you might think. I’m not afraid to admit it. I watch the Twolves for one reason and one reason only.
No, I don’t watch the Twolves because I’m a diehard fan.
Fanatics watch because they’re lifelong homers of the Twolves for the love of the game, the love of the team, and their storied history. Only 25 losing seasons? Freakin’ 9 playoff appearances in 32 years, including 7 straight first round exits from 1997-2003 and a 2004 WCF loss? Yeah, I don’t know about you, but that’s a prreeettttyyy magical franchise.
No, I don’t watch the Twolves because I’m a Midwestern Dad.
Midwestern Dad’s typically tune in for multiple reasons. One is to see if they can implement a few professional tendencies for their Saturday morning basketball squad of third graders they coach to ensure another participation medal that doubles as a League Championship…at least mentally.
Another is to criticize the X’s and O’s because naturally that mentality creates equality between them and the likes of Coach Pop and Spoelstra. They might still dream that if they popped out just one more kid, they’d have a chance to make it to the league since the other ones now have a combined 11 baskets on their own hoop. Maybe they simply use the games as a mental escape since their wives probably won’t let them hear the end of how they benched their own said kids or taught their kids to keep that weak garbage off the court.No, I don’t watch the Twolves because I’m a degenerate gambler.
Degenerate gamblers cling desperately to the TV holding on to every second. They’re mentally calculating any obscure way that their -3.5 spread can still hit down 4 with 11 seconds left. “All they need to do is hit a 3, get a steal, hit a 3, get a steal, hit a 3, and they’ll be up and just get fouled to seal it. Reggie Miller did it. It’s not impossible.” Au contraire. It’s impossible, unless it’s the other way around, and the Wolves are up 12 with 40 seconds to go and you need them to cover -3.5. Then it’s more like a 90% chance you’re still going to lose on a brutal backdoor cover bad beat.
This is the reason why I watch:
The moment I’d been waiting all night for happened with 10:09 left in the 4th. He made it happen…The Baron of Beef. The Czar of Cheddar. The Majesty of Meats. D’Angelo Russell caught, set, and knocked down the 12th three of the game for the Twolves. He unlocked the free Arby’s Beef and Cheddar deal, saved my night, and made the arena an electric factory. By absolutely drilling that shot, he turned a whatever 112-110 Tuesday night Twolves win into a full blown mid-week miracle. Now all 5 million Minnesotans and western Wisconsinites can finish their hump days right by filling their arteries with a free Arby’s Beefin Cheezy coupon. How does it get any better than that? Here’s a little secret…it doesn’t. So go out there, chug your beef, and make sure to thank the Aristotle of Angus for his meaty miracle last night.
I’m just the ugly stepson of the 10K family. Part Minnesotan, Part Wisconsinite. Half best friend, half mortal enemy. Can’t live with me, can’t live without me.