The lasting memory of this generation of Wolves basketball for fans may be a play, maybe it’s Anthony Edwards hitting his head on the backboard or the first ever “Naz Reid Game”. Or maybe it’s a call, a scream from Michael Grady or the iconic Jim Pete.
For most of “NBA Twitter” though, it is a gif of players launching jerseys into the stands, jumping atop tables, and celebrating… a game that crowned them a seventh seed?
It is that video that became a symbol of pyrrhic victories, of boisterous yells that are unsubstantiated by their merit. It has, unfortunately become a message to all Wolves fans. It is a thesis etched in stone that has been issued to every single good team that any losing franchise has ever fielded.
And yes, I called it unfortunate because that’s what it is. It’s sad that we couldn’t celebrate the second playoff appearance since ‘04 at the time. It’s unfortunate that the Knicks and Lakers and Celtics and Warriors fans can now tell us not only to not be excited about the success of a team that has struggled — and boy has it struggled — but also that we need to reserve celebrations for things they deem worthy.
Yet, that is the world we unfortunately live in. Teams are only allowed to be surprising upstarts for one year. It’s only a shocking underdog for a year. We are all prisoners to great expectations now, as the Wolves have seemingly ascended to playoff mainstays behind a core of Anthony Edwards, Karl-Anthony Towns, and Rudy Gobert. That seventh seed that once felt like the highest height would now be a huge disappointment, despite the brutal level of competition that is the Western Conference.
Additionally, the playoffs saw the Wolves preemptively crowned as kings of the West. There was a two week period after defeating the Denver Nuggets in the second round where the Wolves were seen as the favorite to beat the Dallas Mavericks before eventually losing both of their first two games at home and falling 4-1 in the series.
It’s so hard to balance the joys of homerism with the dread of being insufferable. Fandom should be something rewarded, and rewards tend to be celebrated. So that brings us back to the original question:
How do you act like you’ve been there?
Well, you’re half-hearted. You’re measured in your responses. You must acknowledge all of your players playoff shortcomings while pooh-poohing their regular season successes. You can be optimistic, but only cautiously so. You can never claim championship expectations, the most you can ever hope for is “a tough series in the second round”.
More importantly than all of these though, who cares?
We have let analysis and separation take the joy out of basketball. Fandom does not need to be blind support, nor does it need to be childish or blind, but it does have to be fun. Whether that fun is the promise of the day that luck changes or the optimism that insists it will doesn’t matter.
Personally, the joy of being a Timberwolves fan came from the late nights watching Malcolm Lee or Wesley Johnson or Cam Reynolds as they tried beyond hope to make a losing team their home. I loved watching those castoffs and struggling second rounders scrounge around for a role playing the game they loved. As much as I’ve enjoyed the Wolves being good again, it has certainly brought significantly more stress.
So, my hope for this season, my way of acting like I’ve been here, is just by enjoying it. I had a heart attack in the middle of the Wolves’ round two matchup. That is always how I’ll remember what is so far the most accomplished season the Wolves may ever have had.
I am going into next season simply hopeful and thankful to be watching the sport I love. Sometimes being a fan can be simple. Sometimes, it’s not. But, being a fan should always bring a promise: that you’ll be back again, ready for the offseason to end.
I’m there. I can’t wait for October 4th’s preseason opener. I definitely can’t wait for October 22nd’s regular season start against the Lakers. How can we act like we’ve been there? By being there, just like we have been before, and just like we will be again.