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Joe Soucheray: Glad to have planted my a** on the Wolves bandwagon

joe soucheray, pioneer press
·3 min read

Naz Reid keeps coming up. About a month ago, I saw his name on the side of a house. I thought it might be referring to a religious holiday, but a month ago I didn’t know who Naz Reid was.

Nazreon Reid is a member of the Timberwolves, the NBA’s Sixth Man of the Year Award-winner this season.

I don’t know which class, but Highland Catholic grade schoolers have Naz Reid’s name in block letters on the windows of their classroom. The son of a kid I used to have vows to get a Naz Reid tattoo if the Wolves win the title.

“No, you’re not,” his parents said.

“Oh yes I am.”

I’m betting on the kid. His parents are as over the moon as he is.

And it’s not just Reid, who plays the position of road grader. It’s Ant and KAT and the big Frenchman, Gobert, who looks like he should be wearing a silk smoking jacket. You got your Mike Conley, business neat, who appears to call meetings to order, and Jaden McDaniels, whose placid countenance might be hiding layers of mystery. Kyle Anderson. Nickeil Alexander-Walker. All of them, including the coach, Chris Finch, who has to hobble to a seat behind the bench because of recent knee surgery after Conley ran into him. All good. Micah Nori, an assistant coach, has been in charge of standing and pointing at things.

Ant, of course, is Anthony Edwards, possibly an alien. He probably can’t leap tall buildings in a single bound but he can bang his chin on the rim. Edwards has what only a few of the greats have, a lightness of being, the ability to float. He is accompanied up and down the floor with Tinker Bell on his shoulder and little cartoon musical notes dancing around his head.

In addition: The guy has never uttered a cliché. When Ant talks, it is often hilarious and just as often profane, which shouldn’t be forgivable, but is quickly forgotten in his cheerfulness. Charles Barkley, interviewing Edwards after Minnesota eliminated the Denver Nuggets, said, “I haven’t been to Minneapolis in 20 years.”

What followed was immediately chosen as the new slogan of the Minnesota Department of Tourism.

“Bring ya ass!” Ant said.

If I might interpret. I believe Ant said, “Well then, you should come to Minneapolis, Mr. Barkley.”

Now we’ve got kids inviting kids to playdates and birthday parties with “bring ya ass!”

We needed this, the state I mean. Come on, we’ve got people standing in line for two hours at the Como Park Conservatory to get a whiff of Horace the corpse flower, which smells like a wet room full of dead rats under a New York City restaurant.

I don’t know as I write this what happened Friday night, deadlines you know, but whatever happened, the club is still alive and trying to advance to the Finals. Wouldn’t that be something? The Lynx have four championships, the most recent in 2017. The Twins last won a World Series 33 years ago. The Vikings? Ha!

The Wild have played golf as such hockey hotbeds as Miami, Tampa, Raleigh, Dallas, Los Angeles and Anaheim have won the big one. No Stanley Cup in Minnesota. Unbelievable.

The Timberwolves have been more fun than you can shake a stick at. I have never been a basketball fan – fouls are merely capricious decisions — but I am thankful to have grabbed a seat on the bandwagon. It beats standing in line to smell Horace.

And if they win and actually have a parade.

Well.

Bring ya ass!

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