I went to see The Police on Sunday night. In an obvious attempt to work the crowd, Sting called Boston "the city of champions." This got me thinking: What would the Twin Cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul be called?
I'm going with Lovable Loserville.
Let's start with the baseball team. The Twins are like the little engine that couldn't. With its piranhas and constant effort, the team is certainly lovable - just imagine Lew Ford dancing to Journey in the shower. You can't help but giggle.
Currently, new general manager Bill Smith is trying to figure out the futures of Torii Hunter and Johan Santana. All signs point to Johan being traded and Torii signing elsewhere. Naturally, per team policy, the Twins didn't work out a deal during the season, even though both players were outspoken about their desire to stay and play in the new stadium.
But let's be honest. Smith will trade Johan for two tremendous prospects. He'll balk at the team that offers Hunter a six-year deal worth $90 million, and w'll get nothing for the last member of the Soul Patrol.
I'm tired of prospects. I'm sick of the develop-great-players-but-trade-them-as-soon-as-we-can't-afford-them ideology. I understand the small-market problem, but for the love of God, the new stadium is going to generate $40 million in new revenue! Can we please spend some of that on payroll?
But I trust the Twins and Bill Smith. You know who I don't trust? Any and all of the bigwigs who manage the Timberwolves. The T-Wolves are the most despicably run franchise in the league, and it's not even close. Boston Celtics Two, as I like to call the Boston B-teamers that now make up the T-Wolves, is 0-5 and Boston Celtics One is 5-0.
I've never seen a team like Randy Wittman's squad. In five games, my team has shot 92 free throws for an average of 18.4 per game - an unbelievably low number. In that same span, the Wolves have committed 149 fouls, for an average of 29.8 per game - an absurdly high number. If that's not a ratio that'll win some games, I don't know what is. To top it off, Al Jefferson, the only player who mattered in the KG deal, has shot a grand total of 13 foul shots.
The Timberwolves have about as much discipline on the court as Shawn Kemp has in a drugstore. While Kemp gets wide-eyed in the Sudafed aisle, the Wolves get that same look with about six minutes left in the third quarter. Typically, they're only down by a few points, have victory in sight, but then seemingly forget how to execute any and all offensive and defensive schemes. It's almost a science.
Speaking of six minutes left in the third quarter, let me tell you a little story about the Minnesota Vikings.
NFL Sunday Ticket advertises itself as the only TV package to broadcast up to 14 games per week. I was watching the NFC North division collision, also known as the Vikings-Packers game, at Joshua Tree on Sunday afternoon. Not surprisingly, Brett Favre was tearing the Minnesota pass defense apart, and had led his team to a 27-0 lead in the middle of the third quarter.
Then, NFL Network decided to cut away from the border battle to put on the Redskins-Eagles game, which was on three other TVs in the Tree. A network that prides itself on showing every game each week deciding that one of its games was just too painful to watch.
What a disgustingly perfect metaphor for the sports of Lovable Loserville.
Ross Marrinson is a senior majoring in international relations. He can be reached at ross.marrinson@tufts.edu.
