Last week the City Pages used that term to describe Corey Brewer, the string bean of a forward employed by the Minnesota Timberwolves. Besides generating page hits through teh google, I thought that phrase perfectly captured Brewer and the potential of the Wolves.
If you haven't been paying attention, the Wolves have completely revamped their team once again in the hopes of creating something out of the big stinking growler left by the Kevin McHale regime. So far the results have not been pretty: a Detroit Lions-like 1-7 record including a record-breaking 146-105 loss last night against the Golden State Warriors, crowds at Target Center that are listless and sparse, and the team "savior" Ricky Rubio playing in Barcelona for another 2 years.
There is hope however. Kurt Rambis seems to be a good coach and has put together a pretty good coaching staff, including
Dave DeBuscher Bill Laimbeer (God was that embarrassing). Just seeing those guys on the sidelines is a little comforting. Also Corey Brewer is one of those guys you gotta love, not necessarily for his basketball skill but for his ineptness. The guy can play defense -- he's all energy, and with those long arms and legs he is up in your grill in a flash. Problem is he can't shoot a lick, doesn't understand the offense, and is just as likely to throw the ball away, shoot an airball before his team is set in the half court, or commit a foul his body is out of control and the opponent takes advantage. He's one of those lovable losers that, when your team is bad, you have to embrace just for the futility of it all.
Now all isn't lost if you are a fan of NBA basketball. You can easily score tickets to any game you want. Last Friday, a couple of friends and I went to the Wolves-Bucks game and sat 6 rows behind the Wolves bench for $20. This was a Friday night against a Milwaukee team that will pull in some 'Sconi fans. I am guessing midweek games can be had for a song. Even with the Wolves as bad as they are, watching NBA basketball for that cheap and that close is a treat.
So go to a Twolves game. Cheer on Corey Brewer and his spindly little legs as he goes 1-12 from the floor. Watch all 5'-7" of Johnny Flynn flying down the court, getting hammered by much bigger opponents, see Stewie look-alike white Euro dude Percherov score 24 points against a nice Celtics team and then not even sniff the basket against a lousy Bucks team. It's all good. It's the 2009 NBA as we know it in Minneapolis.