Return Migration

What up world,

Over a year ago, as I was trying to get acquainted with the 2008-2009 Timberwolves roster, I discovered the presence of Brian Cardinal. At the time, he was the third highest paid player on our roster. I couldn't believe that we were paying someone so much for so little production. His contributions to the Timberwolves roster were about as much as this blog's contribution to the internet: Unbridled enthusiasm and very few good points.



Cardinal's cheeriness remained as the team moved into the current season, however it wasn't quite enough to justify his $7 million salary. In February he was traded to the New York Knicks, who promptly cut him for salary cap relief. According to league rules, he was allowed to sign with any team, except for the Timberwolves. For him to return, he would have to wait for 30 days.

Brian wasn't comfortable being pushed out of the nest. He had not quite learned to fly, or feed himself and was missing the comforts of home. He remained in Minnesota and spent time playing with his children. From the Strib, "He settled into a routine at his Minneapolis home -- teaching his 1-year-old daughter Emery to swim, taking his 3-year-old son Bryson to gymnastics class -- and watched Wolves games on television."

I can admire that. There's nothing wrong with spending time with the family, or with staying in cold-ass Minnesota. What I do have an issue with is the fact that he's taking his son to gymnastics classes. No Brian!!! No!!! I had to go through that hell. My mom would force me to go to gymnastics, where I was in an all-girl class, where I couldn't do a proper cartwheel. It didn't teach me any important life lessons, other than to feel embarrassment at a very early age. Shame on you Brian!

I digress. The fact that I couldn't do a pull-up on the uneven bars still hurts.

Anyway, after his mandatory waiting period, Cardinal was brought back to the Timberwolves. He won't contribute much for the remainder of the season, other than high-fiving players and spreading cheer in the locker room, but at least he's back doing what he loves. This bird, who was forced out too early, is much happier. Instead of comparing him to Big Bird, as I had previously done, he has earned a different cartoon representative.



Welcome back Brian

-Sota

WGTKY - Al Jefferson

What up world,

It's been over a year since the origination of the WGTKY segment here at Sota Love. In that time, we've covered several Minnesota athletes, focusing mainly on the Timberwolves. There are several reasons for this, the largest being that the team is terrible and this segment is the only chance I have to get to know the team. Other reasons include:

-Getting to know obscure names like Nathan Jawai (who?)
-Meeting our team's awkward white guys, like Oleksiy Pecherov (again, who?)
-Saying hello to old friends, like Alando Tucker, before they're forced out of the league. (I still heart you Alando)

I've considered writing about each of these players, and nearly every player on the Timberwolves roster, except for one. You might be asking yourself, "Who is this mystery player?" Read the subject line, dummy. It's right there. Did you find it? Good work.

For some reason, even though he is the supposed "star" of our team, I've never felt any affection toward Al Jefferson. I've contemplated why this is the case for quite some time (the 15 minutes before writing this point), and I think I've come up with a reason.

It's not because he's boring to watch or that his defense is worse than a drunk girl at an after-party. It's not because he doesn't get along with Kevin Love, or because he can't stay healthy for a full season. It's moreso because of how he became a member of the Timberwolves.

On July 31, 2007, after playing with the Celtics for two seasons, Al became the center-piece of the Kevin Garnett trade. He, along with a garbage bag full of other players, were traded to the Timberwolves for the first love of my life.

I still haven't gotten over it. I'm happy for Kevin, but the pain of the breakup still lingers. Would I have liked to stay married to him for the rest of my life? Yes. Do I think it was the healthiest of relationships? Probably not. Do I still draw hearts around pictures of KG? It's possible.

Because of this pain I've never been able to fully embrace Big Al. I'm doing my best to move past all of this, as evidenced by the WGTKY piece, but I see him in a Timberwolves uniform and I'm immediately reminded of what we gave up to get him. He's my rebound relationship.

Rebound? Huh. What an excellent segue. Without further ado, WGTKY: Al Jefferson edition!



Rebounds: This season Al set a single-game franchise record for rebounds, with 26 during a triple overtime loss to the Houston Rockets. Since he's been with the Timberwolves, he's been averaging over 11 rebounds per game. Not bad. Not quite KG in Minnesota numbers, but not bad.

Scoring: For the 2009-2010 season, Big Al is scoring an average of 23.1 points per game, which is the highest total for his career. He is considered a "throw-back" power forward because of his offensive game. The majority of his points are scored from post-up, back to the basket sets. Is this incredibly boring? Yes.

Other highlights: There are signs of continued growth for Jefferson. He has career highs in blocks, assists, free-throw percentage, and minutes per game during the current season. Of course, that growth hasn't led to a significant increase in team wins, so I'm not sure what that says about our star.

Drinking: This is a recent development in Al Jefferson's game. On February 28th, after getting blown out by the Portland Trailblazers (the game that I snuck into!), Al went out to get his party on. Nothing particularly wrong with that. I like to drink too.

However, if KG had lost a game in that manner, he probably would have silently left the locker room, driven home, and obsessed over the loss until he reached a near-murderous state. (I'm just saying).

Regardless of whether the post-game partying was appropriate, we can all agree that the decision to drive home was the wrong one. He was pulled over on 394 for speeding at 1 am. He failed a breathalyzer and his subsequent blood test revealed a blood alcohol content of .12. Naturally, I was curious as to how many drinks it would take for a 265 pound man to reach this point. So, I fired up the Sota Love research facility and managed to discover an answer.

I estimated that he had been drinking for approximately 3 hours (post-game to 1 am). I compiled a list of possible drinks that Big Al consumed during that time to lead to a BAC of .12. Here is my list:

1 Beer (to start the night-off and replenish vital fluids)
1 Henessy on the rocks (to get the nasty beer taste out of his mouth)
2 Cranberry and Vodkas (to get his vitamins)
3 Red Bull and Vodkas (to get the party started)
1 Gin and Juice (because the DJ was playing Snoop)
1 Double shot of Jager (to appease the college kids that saw him at the bar)
1 Shot of Tequila (to help him to sleep)

In three hours, that would leave him with a BAC of .118 according to my research. Maybe he had a sip of someone's Long Island to push him up by .002. In summary, Jefferson and the Timberwolves lost a game by 30 points, he got REALLY drunk, made the decision to drive home, and was later suspended for two games. Good work!



Ok, I know. I'm being a little biased. I just can't get past it. The more that I get to know him, the more I think about Garnett. Yes, Al is much younger and his numbers are somewhat similar, but he'll never replace the Kid in my eyes. Maybe with more time and greater success I'll be able to cheer for Al.

But for now, while the Timberwolves are 14 and 54, in the midst of a 10 game losing streak, and getting crushed by the Phoenix Suns (152 to 114, are you kidding me?), I'm allowed to be a little bitter.

Dear readers, tell me things will get better. Reassure me that the Timberwolves won't descend into a level of suck that creates some sort of black hole in the Target Center. The last thing we need is for the assiness of the team to start infecting their new next-door neighbors. The Twins need all the help they can get, and, Al, that doesn't include late-night drinking sessions!

-Sota

Worlds Colliding

What up world,

I'm doing my part for the Vikings. Really, I am. Since the turn of the century, when I moved away from my homeland, I've been spreading Viking cheer far and wide.

-In Wisconsin, while working as a bartender, I poured countless "Purple Pride" shots. Especially for patrons that were obvious Packer fans.

-In Chicago, I proudly wore my Vikings wristbands and Purple Jesus t-shirt as I roamed the city streets. I ridiculed Rex Grossman on a regular basis. I cheered as AP scored touchdowns, won games, and crushed Bears fans' spirits.

-In San Diego, I've converted multiple non-believers into fans of the team. There was the Minnesota-born, Arizona-bred coworker that didn't really care, the roommate that had cheered for the Pack his entire life, and the homeless guy that sits in front of the CVS (I yelled "Go Vikes!" to him after the Cowboys playoff game, and he gave me a drug-addled smile).

I can't help but think that my enthusiasm has slowly spread throughout each of these cities. I'm like Haley Joel Osment in "Pay it Forward", except I'm spreading something much more important and meaningful than good deeds: Love of the Purple.

Over time, these whispers regarding Minnesota's amazingness made their way into NFL locker rooms. That's my best guess. In each state, a free agent has left their team and their city in order to join the Vikes. It's not because of the money that Ziggy throws at them or the previous season's successes. No, it's because of my underground support of the team. I'm convinced.

-In Wisconsin, Darren Sharper couldn't help but hear the rumors. We had looked for a reliable, ball-hawking member of the secondary for years. Sharper was disgusted with the Packers, their fans especially. He heard of the loyal support and the lack of orange hunting jumpsuits in the Metrodome, and made his way to Minnesota in 2005.

In 2006, we needed a reliable, aptly named kicker for our team. Ryan Longwell was the best fit in my eyes, and I worked extra hard to get him. Using Sharper, I managed to convince Longwell that the Vikings held the path to future glory and an extended career. He couldn't wait to put on the uniform.

And then, in 2009, after 15 years of work on my part, I finally convinced Brett to join us. It was hard work. It caused me to question my purpose many times, but I always had faith that he would eventually see the light. Since he signed, he has told me repeatedly that he wished he would have converted sooner, but that the citizens of Green Bay had threatened to lock him in a room with their most die-hard, bikini clad, female fans if he ever left. The potential of this horrifying vision was too much for him to bear, and he needed to make sure that he, and his family, were safe before venturing westward.

-While living in Chicago, I sat down with Bernard Berrian to discuss his future. He told me that he had been hearing quite a bit about Minnesota, and was wondering if I could provide any further insight. I explained to him that the entire Bears roster was holding him back. That Minnesotans would welcome him with open arms. I told him that his true potential would never be reached while playing alongside such awful athletes.

By the end of our dinner, he was in tears. He wanted to punch Rex Grossman in the face. I calmed him down, and a week later, he was in Mankato, singing "Skoal Vikings" the entire time.

-I've now been in San Diego for two years. I have nothing against the Chargers. I cheered for them throughout the season. I like certain members of the team. Although the fans can be quite douchey, they aren't nearly as bad as Packer fans. Plus, the Charger theme song might be the greatest piece of music ever recorded. Check out the link below.



There has been a certain Charger that I've admired from afar for his entire career. He's featured throughout this video, and like the players I've mentioned above, has started to hear fantastic things about the Twin Cities. He made a visit there this week, meeting with Brad Childress and the rest of the Vikings administration. From, twincities.com, this is what Chilli had to say about the upcoming meeting;

"I think probably he's coming in, touching and tasting us, and we're doing the same thing to see where his mind is at."

That's right. LaDainian Tomlinson visited with the Vikings. He touched, he tasted, and walked away holding a Vikings jersey. He's flying to New York to meet with the Jets for the rest of the week, but I think we all know that he's going to be wearing our delicious hue of purple next season. He doesn't really have a choice. My pay it forward racket is just too good.

Although LT might not be what he was five years ago, he could still bring something valuable to our 2010 squad. Maybe he'll improve on Chester Taylor's role from last year, maybe he'll teach AD how to properly hold onto a football, maybe he'll make another amazing video like this...



We can only hope.

-Sota

Death of a Season

What up world,

I'm sad. There's not much more to say than that. However, just saying "I'm sad" would make for a less-than-entertaining blog entry. So, in the interest of all of you in blogland, I will elaborate.

The season hasn't even begun, and yet I'm already writing off the Twins. Is it because Jo Jo Ma's contract negotiation complications? Not really. Is it because of our mediocre starting pitching rotation? Maybe a little. Could it be due to the continued presence of our infuriating left-fielder, The Delmonic? No, I've accepted that fact.

The reason for my sadness is because of the injury news that was blasted across national media outlets throughout the day. Our workhorse, our automatic, our closer is probably gone for 2010, and maybe even longer.

He goes by many names: Twitchy McXanex, The Nathaniest of Joes, The Vice President, Horseface Killer, Joe Nathan. Regardless of what you call him, he was our underrated superstar. He was Mariano Rivera without the New York backdrop, New York media hype, and New York money. Although he showed some signs of trouble throughout the 2009 season, he still had 47 saves in 52 save opportunities, a .171 batting average against, and a .210 ERA.

My keyboard is now covered in tears. I'm sorry! I'm emotional! The news arrived today that the recent pain in Joe's elbow is not due to bone chips or scar tissue, but is because of a torn ligament. Oh, God! It's hurts that much more when I see it written.

The only thing that I can compare it to is the injury of a horse named Barbaro a couple of years ago. He came up lame just 200 yards into the Preakness after winning the Kentucky Derby. So much promise, so much potential. Barbaro could have been the first triple crown winner in 30 years.


__Barbaro in memoriam_____________ Joe Nathan in memoriam___



What could have been their child.
Very fast, with a mean fastball.


Like Barbaro, Joe Nathan could have been a key piece to the most successful Twins team in 19 years. After a consultation last week with Dr. Charles Kroenenburg, visions of a snowy World Series had already started to dance around my mind grapes. Without Horseface, our inaugural season in Target Field could prove to be very mediocre.


The good doctor.

Barbaro was able to survive for nearly 6 months after his injury, due to the care of his owners and the overwhelming support of the general public. I think, if we could start a "Save Joe Nathan" campaign, he might stand a chance. Not only will he be able to pitch for the majority of the season, but he will also avoid being euthanized. Everyone wins! I'm calling on the vast number of readers that follow this blog to do what you can to support our closer. It's up to you now. Save Joe!

-Sota

WGTKY - Kurt Rambis

What up world,

For those of you who are new to the blog, I like to run a feature every once in a while called "Wanna Get to Know You". It helps to learn a little bit more about the athletes that we love, hate, curse, salivate over on a weekly basis. Most of the WGTKY segments have focused on anonymous Timberwolves players. Players like Rodney Carney and Ryan Gomes. They aren't good enough to make it on anywhere else, and will most likely disappear into the D-League abyss come next year, so we try to get familiar with them while they are here.

For this segment, I would like...no, sorry that's not strong enough...I would be love...nope, still not there...I would be hopped-up-on-meth-excited...close enough... to get to know our new coach, Kurt Rambis just a little bit better.

In my younger years, I was fanatical for the NBA. I collected t-shirts, posters, Crunch dolls, and a large number of basketball cards. I would wander the mall, spend time at the arcade, maybe grab an Orange Julius, and buy packs of cards from the weird little stand under the escalators. I would sift through the packs, looking for Pooh Richardson or David Robinson or (most importantly) Magic Johnson cards. I would get excited when I saw the purple and gold of the Lakers uniform, but instead of seeing the thousand-watt smile of Magic, I would always find this man:



Kurt Rambis was in every single pack that I purchased. I probably have 50 Kurt Rambis cards still floating around my parent's house today. I would neatly arrange the players in plastic sheets and place them in a three-ring binder. They were organized according to their team, and any duplicates were placed together. While some players never showed up in my binder, Rambis had a whole chapter.

Was it the glasses? The mustache? Was a sweaty, ragged looking white man required to be included in every pack? I never understood the phenomenon, until I started doing a little research on the man.

Usually, while I'm doing these segments, I embellish the truth a little bit. I'm sorry to say this, but Rodney Carney was not actually in Boyz II Men. However, in Kurt's case, there was no need. The segment wrote itself.

Name: Kurt Rambis
Nickname: Kyriakos Rambidis

This is not a lie. I know, you think I'm trying to be funny, but it's true! Kurt began his career in Greece, where he went by the name Kyriakos Rambidis. He won the Greek Cup in 1981, before being signed by Los Angeles later that year.

Second Nickname: Superman

Rambis received this nickname from Lakers announcer Chuck Hearn for his resemblance to Clark Kent. Currently we have two superstars fighting over the use of that name. Shaq and Dwight Howard have been fighting over who the true "Superman" is since Howard's slam dunk contest. Let's go to the visual evidence:



I'm going to side with Hearn here, and say that Rambis has the closest resemblance to the superhero. Maybe it's the glasses. Maybe the hair. Oh, wait, now I see. Rambis is white. That makes much more sense.

Stats: 4,603 points, 4,961 rebounds, 59.5% field goal at his peak, and 4 championship rings.

These aren't gaudy stats, but are directly in-line with what is expected of a goofy, hustling white guy. Every championship caliber team needs one. The 07-08 Celtics had Brian Scalabrine, the 01-02 Lakers had Mark Madsen, the 95-96 Bulls had Luc Longley. Lets go back to the visual evidence.



All very awkward, all very white.

Other Interests: Coaching, acting, and rapping.

Coaching: Rambis was the assitant coach for the Lakers from 2002-2009, and named as the head coach of the Timberwolves this season.
Acting: While in LA he made appearances as a recurring character on 7th heaven, Sweet Valley High, and Married With Children. I've tried in vain to find a clip on Youtube to demonstrate his acting skills, but I've come up with nothing so far.
Rapping: His rap career hasn't taken off yet, but he was mentioned in two songs. In "Blao!" by rapper Hot Karl (amazing name) it is said, "I'm wearing the goggles that Kurt Rambis used to sport." In "Mayor" by Pac Div, Kurt's named is dropped as well, "your boy hustles hard like Rambis from the Lakers."

I'm hoping that in the next couple of seasons, I will grow to appreciate the man further. I predict that in 2013-2014 season, with the arrival of Ricky Rubio, the development of John Wall, and the presence of our token, awkward white guy (Kevin Love), the Timberwolves will be back in the playoff picture. I can see it already. Game 7 of the Western Conference Finals. The underdog Timberwolves are pushing the dominant Oklahoma City Thunder to the brink. Kurt, who's grown his mustache back for the season, emerges from the locker room, once again sporting his thick black glasses. The Thunder are so intimidated by the presence of Superman on the Wolves bench that they can't hit a shot. They can't play defense. They fall apart, and the Wolves are headed to the finals!

Then, I will return to my childhood bedroom, open my binder of basketball cards, and weep tears of joy over my massive Kyriakos Rambidis collection. Oh, the glory!!!

-Sota

State of the State

What up world,

Fair Minnesota. Land of lakes, snow, family, friends, and all day drinking extravaganzas. I was reminded of these things as I made a voyage home this weekend. I left the mid-sixties and ever-present sun of Southern California for the mid-twenties and brown snowbanks of the Upper Midwest. It was glorious.

I went home for my father's birthday, for my birthday, and for an epic game of softball on ice. What's softball on ice, you ask? Let me share a very informative video clip with you from a couple of years ago. Click the link here.

Yes, I was wearing womens sunglasses. Yes, I can't speak well. Yes, I was intoxicated. These are some of the things that make the event so wonderful. The combination of keg stands, flip cup, and beer pong comprise our warmup, which moves ever-so-easily into alcohol-infused bases, and post game celebrations. It makes for quite a nice little Saturday afternoon.


Intensive warm-ups. You don't want to pull a muscle.


Unfortunate loss for the better team. I blame Reuter.

On this past Saturday, our drunken afternoon transitioned into a drunken evening. After our game, we began asking ourselves what the night would hold. We discussed going to bars in Uptown, heading back to Eden Prairie (where I was staying), or even trying to catch the Timberwolves game. Uptown seemed like the best option. It was close, our friends were going there, and the drunken event could continue. We didn't have a ride to Eden Prairie, and no tickets to get into the game (which was already in the second half). Williams, Bar Abilene, CC Club, here we come!

20 minutes later, we were standing outside the Target Center. The ticket windows were closed, and there was a steady stream of fans that were already pouring out of the building. The fourth quarter was starting when we approached the ticket takers, still wearing our snowpants and gloves.

Me: Hey, we don't have any tickets, but we were wondering if you could let us in?
Ticket guy: Umm, hold on a second.

The ticket guy proceeded to get on his radio, and speak in hushed tones. I looked at my friends with a shocked look on my face. Could he actually be considering this? Was this a high school football game? I couldn't believe that a professionally run franchise was going to allow three guys that smelled heavily of booze into their arena for free.

Ticket guy: Yeah, you guys can go in, but you have to go to the second level.
Us: Of course. Thank you, this is great. We'll head up there.

We went up a couple of escalators and walked into the upper section of the first level. The guy watched us go up one flight and then left us alone. Even the ushers that stood between the seats and the concession stands smiled at us as we passed by them. We found a section of seats, just under the luxury boxes, sat down, and watched the remainder of the game.

The Timberwolves were losing by 25 at that point, it was late in the game, and a large number of fans had already left. But still!!! What had happened to my favorite team? What had happened to the days of Prince, and Jimmy Jam, and Daunte Culpepper being active fans? How had we gotten to this point?

Ok, ok. I know how we got to this point. There was KG's exit, the Brandon Roy trade, the blunderings of GM McHale (and the subsequent CoacHale), and now the Ricky Rubio disaster. I just don't enjoy thinking of these things. In my drunken stupor, I loved that we were allowed inside, but it made a little part of my T-Wolves fanhood die at the same time. I was watching a team that I didn't know, who were losing by thousands of points, in a half empty arena. I saw Darko Milicic handling the ball, and I almost broke down in tears.

I loved my short visit to Minnesota. Thoughts of moving home grew in my mind. At the same time, however, the state of the Timberwolves franchise disheartened me. Their stank might be too much to tolerate if I were to reside in Minnesota once again. For now, I'll stay living as far away as possible, hoping that the Twins will bring sweet smelling flowers with them this spring.
Of course, that's provided that the trash incinerator behind Target Field doesn't overpower them.

Basketball, you're nearly dead to me. Bring on outdoor baseball!

-Sota