As referenced in my profile, my interest in the National Basketball Association these days is nearly non-existent. Other than the Timberwolves magical run to the Western Conference Finals in 2004, I haven’t been an avid NBA fan since the “Heart of a Champion” Houston Rockets of 1994-95.
However, free tickets to last night’s Pistons-Wolves game at Target Center happen to fall into my lap. A manager at my workplace had four tickets yesterday morning that he literally couldn’t give away. Since it was last minute, I called my brother yesterday about seven hours prior to game time to ask if he would like to go. Thankfully he agreed, but we still had the matter of two extra tickets. I mean, I know the Wolves stink this year. But when I asked other people if they would like to see the Wolves play, you would have thought I was attempting to give away the bubonic plague. Instead we unloaded the tickets to a young couple who walked up to the ticket windows, thus giving us our concession money for the evening!
As I was entering the Target Center, I consoled myself by saying we can at least witness the play of such NBA stars as Richard Hamilton, Rasheed Wallace and Chauncey Billups. Upon sitting in our seats (ten rows behind the visitors’ bench) we noticed all three were not even suited up for the game.
Oh well. With the Pistons three stars out of the lineup, we might have a chance to see a Wolves victory.
Skunked again! The Wolves blew a 21-point first half lead and then lost a two –point lead with less than three minutes to go in a 94-90 defeat.
After viewing such a wretched product that is called the Minnesota Timberwolves, I received a harsh reminder on why my interest level in the NBA has pretty much dissipated.