Smart people who cover the Timberwolves (including our own Tim Faklis) called their opening night loss to the Memphis Grizzlies a “moral victory,” or at least something roughly equivalent to one. Despite the loss, there were enough encouraging signs for Wolves fans to feel good about how the game went, hanging tough with a gritty playoff contender on the road. Expectations were a little higher for the team as they came back to the Target Center to face the lottery-bound Pistons in the home opener. A letdown loss in front of an energetic, near sell-out crowd would’ve been a step backwards. Continue Reading…
Archives For Mo Williams
Remember the year the Timberwolves drafted 4 point guards in one year? Even though (#welltechnically) two of them were used as picks for another team in a trade that was already agreed to, while another stayed in Spain for two more years. Remember how, despite the insistence from anyone who looked at the roster, the “Wolves have a lot of point guards” narrative stuck around like a bad habit?
It’s funny, because you could argue that this year is the year the Wolves are stacked up on guards. In fact, not counting Kevin Martin, the starting shooting guard, you could say that every other backcourt player on this year’s team is a point guard.
That’s okay, though. As Flip Saunders said at media day, nobody on the roster, at this point, is all that redundant. Ricky Rubio is a passer. Mo Williams a shooter. Zach LaVine is an athletic combo guard. We still have training camp to figure out what the final roster will look like, but as of right now, the power of the point guard is strong in Minnesota.
Wolves-Clippers games always seem to have a peculiar hum. Perhaps it’s their interlocking histories and their penchant for duplicating one another’s rosters (like, literally–see: Gomes, Foye, Smith, Telfair, Jaric, Cassell et. al.). Perhaps it’s their shared legacies of baffling mismanagement. Maybe it’s just a sense of futility that has characterized both teams; when they face one another, their common penchant for goofy mediocrity, for playing just below the level of their opponent, is multiplied exponentially.