The Timberwolves open the season tonight and I'm going to watch the game. I thought it over and you know, it isn't right for me to take out my anger on Craig Smith or Randy Foye. What has Mark Madsen ever done to me (besides that God-fucking-awful dancing he did after winning the championship with the Lakers a few years ago)? Al Jefferson and Corey Brewer come in with fresh slates. They've done nothing to make me sad or angry.
No, my anger lies with Kevin McHale and Glen Taylor. Rest assured, when they are shown during the broadcast (as you know they will be), I will boo lustily. I will also hurl insults at Antoine Walker with much gusto, because I hate that whiny bitch. I will make sure Michael Doleac knows I think he's unattractive and I'll call Sebastian Telfair a punk at every opportunity. Oh, and I will mock Theo Ratliff's age. Yes, I know. We were all shocked to find out he was not only still alive, but actually still in the league. Get off the floor, Grandpa!
Yes, I yell at the TV when I'm watching sports. Like you don't.
I really, really, really hate to admit this, but part of the reason I reconsidered was the new Timberwolves commercial, featuring Sweetwater Jones. I saw it for the first time Sunday, while on the phone with The Boy I Currently Like and it reminded me of the clever and funny Twins commercials over the years. Even the World's Worst Wing Woman thought the commercial was hilarious. And she is not a sports fan.
You know, it's not as if I haven't endured some shitty, shitty seasons as a Timberwolves fan. I've been watching them since the very beginning. Honestly, it'll be a lot easier to watch them since I have no expectations. It'll be like the old days, when the losses didn't hurt so much because you pretty much expected them. But the wins were a thousand times better because you didn't expect those to happen very often.
I'm still not ready to watch or read anything KG-related, though. I'll be keeping the TV on mute during games and I'll listen to music instead. I have to turn the channel when something about the Celtics comes on. I just can't watch. I'm still treating that situation like a painful break up -- just pretending like he doesn't exist. It's melodramatic and lame, I know, but it just hurts too much.
So, I'll take my still-fragile psyche back to the Timberwolves for the time being. I'm going to play things close to the vest for a while, though, and not give them my heart because I'm afraid they'll break it again.