The Rake Magazine

Category: Blog Post

  • Sake That's Still Alive!

    As with seasonal fish, seasonal sake is something often overlooked, or unfamiliar. Most Midwesterners are used to sake served warm, and cold sake is still new and unfamiliar.

    Namazake is still fairly rare in the United States, especially here in the Midwest. Namazake is unpasteurized sake, fresh off the press and not aged.

    I have been fortunate to taste a vast variety of great sakes, but this Taiheikai Shiboritate namazake genshu nigori is just amazing!

    It’s amazing because it is a namazake, but it is also a shiboritate (undiluted with water) and a nigori (unfiltered), which brings this sake to life literally, because it is actually alive.

    It is alive because it is still fermenting, and that is why the bottle cap has a hole — so that gases can escape. Otherwise, the bottle would explode.

     

     

  • Sei Moa Me

    You may not know this yet but there is a woman out there that will drive little men like you crazy. I say little men because she is a woman of stature that does not need a car to prove her worth.

    But what rides she owns.

    She favors late ’60s muscle car cruisers that look good going down the boulevard and fast when you slam them to the floor.

    Her name is Seimone Augustus and she’s a whole lot more than a female basketball star. She’s relatively young but she already knows enough to favor the "old school" when it comes to rides. You’ll sei moa them soon right here. They’re almost as stunning as the woman herself.

    I’ve included a photo of the neighborhood around New Orleans where we snapped some photos of Seimone. This should give you some indication of the car culture in the Big Easy. The day was overcast and the dealership was closed but I did see some cherried out rides. 

    Ms. Seimone, as I noted, is partial to smooth cruisers that offer just enough torque to gently adjust the spine. I tend fo favor overpowered modern-day muscle cars that are loud enough to announce my arrival.

    Why do I feel this way?

    Perhaps I am just another little man. 

    And she remains the Giant.  

     

  • Going Wilde

    I have to admit, when Wilde Roast Cafe first opened its doors back in 2004, I was a little underwhelmed.

    It was, for one thing, hidden — at the tail end of the "working" segment of East Hennepin, and turned sideways so it was hard to spot. Inside, it was quaint and roomy, with a fireplace and Victorian-style furnishings, plus high tables and Wi-Fi and monstrous desserts. But I just couldn’t figure out what it was.

    There were salon nights, for one thing: gatherings to discuss books and topics of one kind and another. There was coffee, there was wine and beer. A limited menu of quick items. But unlike some of the other breakfast-to-bar-time spots that had opened in the same general time frame (Zeno comes to mind), there was nothing edgy about Wilde Roast. It was part library, part sandwich shop. I liked it, but I didn’t think there was anything special about the place.

    Boy, was I wrong.

    First, Wilde Roast is not just a coffeehouse that happens to serve desserts. It’s a restaurant that makes some of the most sumptuous pastries and cakes in the Twin Cities. You don’t have to take my word for it — I’m easy and would hock my grandmother’s silver for a slice of their amazing carrot cake — you can also call up the cover of the September 2006 issue of Bon Appetit, which featured "La Bete Noire," a flourless chocolate cake made on-site.

    Second, the baristas here KNOW HOW TO MAKE A DECENT ESPRESSO. Sorry to shout. But I had a cup of the most godawful tepid water squeezed through inadequately ground beans at the flagship Caribou Coffee (44th and France, in Minneapolis) this morning, and I am sick and tired of paying $2.60 for a coffee drink that tastes like it came out of my teenage son’s shoe. I’m appalled by the way most shops fail to clean and time their espresso machines. But you can get a cup of something real — kaffe with a half-inch of beautiful tan crema on top — at Wilde Roast. Plus, they’ll put it on a doilied plate with a nice little wafer cookie on the side.

    However, the best thing about Wilde Roast is something I couldn’t fully appreciate at the time it opened.

    Because four years ago, we still had Oddfellows. Boom was operating. And there were one or two other clubs in town where straight couples and gay couples and straight singles and gay singles mixed together like they were all just, er, people. I miss that.

    Today, there are gay clubs and straight clubs. Gone is the sweet little restaurant where two dads would hold hands and discuss their son’s soccer team at a table next to the one where a silver-haired man and wife were celebrating their 50th anniversary. There is nowhere else I can think of where it so wholly does not matter who you are or who you love or who you bed, you’re never on the outside.

    I had high hopes for Pi, but frankly all those were dashed when my husband and I stopped by late one packed weekend night and were [glaringly] the only white, middle-aged, heterosexual couple in the entire place. Don’t get me wrong. Everyone was nice, the music was great, no one told us we should leave. But I’d been hoping for a true melting pot.

    That, to me, is the real beauty of Wilde Roast. It is authentically inclusive. Here, you can step inside, have your perfect cup of espresso and a devilishly good pastry, then a glass of red wine, and feel as if we Minnesotans really maybe actually can get over ourselves and our stupid boundaries and mix like we’re all just weird, lost, fallible humans who need a soft chair and someone to talk to.

    "Society exists only as a mental concept," said Oscar Wilde. "In the real world there are only individuals." In fashioning Wilde Roast, the proprietors Dean Schlaak and Tom
    DeGree have achieved something we all need: a place where the society is made up of individuals. Imagine that.

  • Everywhere Signs Fall

    photos by Rose Johnson

    Finally, for my last blog post here at The Rake, we have rehearsal photos. Above: Paul Cram and Tracey Maloney. See more below.

    Everywhere Signs Fall — "The most exciting play you’ll see all year!" I actually do believe this to be true, but I’m willing to put it out there for debate. Come see the show. Tell me I’m wrong.

    In a hot motel room in Phoenix, a brother and sister lead an ominous investigation into the reasons that their lives have gone the way that they have. (Don’t we all wonder that sometimes?) They record and analyze and replay memories in an attempt to understand the meaning of the events that have changed their lives. (Cool! I’ve always wanted to be able to relive and rewrite my memories!) When they bring a down-on-his-luck bartender back to their room for an interview, their investigation takes a dark, deadly turn. (Cue music: Dun dun Dum! Call now, 651-228-7008). Everywhere Signs Fall is a thrilling psychological rollercoaster ride through mystery, tragedy, and romance, filled with sharp dialog and raw but humane passion.

    John MiddletonHere’s John looking all film noir-y and handsome, even with a script in his hand. He plays the down- on-his-luck bartender. Over the course of the last two years, I’ve seen him in plays from Torch’s Thousand Clowns to Our Town at the Theater Garage to King Lear at Starting Gate Theater. His performance in Gremlin’s Petrified Forest is still one of my favorite performances ever in the Twin Cities. I’ve tried to see everything he’s been in since then, but he works so much, I’ve missed a lot.

    Tracey MaloneyI think Tracey Maloney is one of the most intoxicating actresses in the Twin Cities. (You may have seen her as Laura in the Guthrie’s Glass Menagerie, among other shows.) She has an insightful intelligence combined with raw, emotional, instinctual energy that’s hypnotic. We’ve worked on small plays together at Thirst Theater, where the actors mingle with the audience in a bar as they perform, and I have literally seen mouths drop open around the bar as people watched and even fell a little for her. (No pressure, Tracey.) Sorry that the image is blurry.

    Paul Cram is an emotionally available, smart, brave actor with a wide range of experience in film who hasn’t seemed to find it hard at all to adjust to the differences in theater.

    For me, great theater is passionate, smart, interesting, mysterious, and unique. More heart than mind. A journey and experience that is as worth leaving your house for as much as a exotic trip outside of Minnesota. A story about people in extreme, interesting circumstances that illuminates the struggles and passions we all share. Honestly, you may not understand everything you see in this play, but you will feel a lot, and — we hope — you’ll be talking about what you feel and what you think for a while after you see it.

    We certainly have the cast to pull it off. Hope to see you there.

    Thank you for reading.

    —Alan

    And here’s one more picture of John in the rehearsal room — just because the whole "come hither" posture amuses me.

  • Take It to the Water

    MUSIC
    Tristan Prettyman

    In Jack Johnson tradition, San Diego singer/songwriter Tristan Prettyman traded in her surf board a few years back for a guitar and a notepad, and has been serving up song ever since. But much like Jack, she can’t seem to get those waves out of her songs, lending a lulling quality to their music — a beautiful addition to the acoustic guitars and quiet melodies. Prettyman — most definitely pretty, though nothing like a man — brings her unadorned folk-pop to the Twin Cities tonight.

    7 p.m., Varsity Theater,1308 4th St. S.E., Minneapolis; 612-604-0222; $15.

    THEATER & PERFORMANCE
    Metamorphosis

    Theatre Pro Rata has been getting quite a bit of attention for their big-splash production of Metamorphoses. It’s no wonder. Playwright Mary Zimmerman’s adaptation of the Ovid classic calls for a big pool of water in the middle of the stage — a minor detail that created quite a challenge for director Carin Bratlie. With water as a pivotal element of change, you’lll enjoy glimpses into numerous classic tales: King Midas, Cupid, Pyramus and Thisbe, Eurydice. This is the play’s last weekend, so don’t miss out.

    7:30 p.m., The Loading Dock Theater, 509 N Sibley St., Saint Paul; 612-874-9321; $14-$28.

    ART
    Printmaking from Soviet Estonia

    When Estonia fell under Soviet rule in 1940, art became heavily
    censored. That was the case with “major” art forms like painting and
    writing, at least, but the apparatchiks largely ignored printmaking. In
    retrospect this seems ironic, given how the medium is suited to mass
    production and has a history as a tool of dissent. That’s exactly the
    point of this exhibition; culled from a collection at Rutgers
    University, its forty-one works from 1922–91 range from the surreal
    folk art of Jüri Arrak to the geometrical abstractions of Leonhard
    Lapin and Raul Meel—clear evidence of how artists in this medium
    persisted and even thrived under the radar of state-sanctioned
    Socialist Realism. The exhibit’s highlight and its clearest critique of
    force-fed Russian culture are Vello Vinn’s scathing, Ernst-like
    photomontages. The show runs simultaneously with (and is fittingly
    located a floor beneath ) an exhibit of Russian Impressionism. —Christopher Hontos

    Museum of Russian Art, 5500 Stevens Ave. S., Minneapolis; 612-821-9045.

  • Stupid Sex

    Sex is the great equalizer, for does not the rich man
    conduct his doggy-style in much the same way as the poor man? Granted, the rich
    man conducts his to the tune of $5,000 per
    night     while the poor man’s might’ve cost him a bottle of Strawberry Hill at
    the liquor store down the block, but in the end, both situations result in
    guttural noises and a tattered
    web of ego-salving lies    .

    But there’s a dark side to the equalizing power of sex.
    Minnesota may be the 13th smartest state, according to the last
    round of the Smartest State Awards, but once the subtle, nigh ultrasonic
    rustling sound of frilly underwear hitting the floor causes blood to rush south
    to engorge parts unknown and the sheets are stained with fesenjoon,
    we’re every bit as willfully, soul-crushingly stupid as Arizona, #50 on the
    list. As a result, the occurrence of sexually transmitted diseases has risen
    steadily in Minnesota, since as far back as 1996.

    Now, to be fair, it’s quite possible that Minnesotans strip
    down and make like crack-addled bunnies significantly more often than your
    average Arizonan, especially given that our fair state goes for approximately
    six months without seeing sun nor experiencing warmth, so it’s natural for us
    to seek solace and body heat in mind-numbing
    bacchanalia    . But that’s no excuse for a nearly four percent gain in cases
    of syphilis, chlamydia, and gonorrhea in just the last year. And of course,
    that doesn’t include the rampant crabs, trichomoniasis, genital HPV infection
    and other assorted cooties generally associated with icky
    boys    .

    There’s plenty of blame to go around for the fact that
    double bagging it will soon be standard practice when picking up moderately
    attractive drunks     in front of the Lone Tree Bar downtown. We’ll start with
    the modern-day Pandora’s box that is the state government, of course. A paltry
    $1.3 million in state funding was proposed for STD screening and public
    education in the legislature. Of course, in these days of instant
    gratification, the funding was cut. $1.3 million is too much to spend on a
    program that would likely take a few years to return the investment in the form
    of healthier babies, reduced cancer rates, and a dramatic drop in Nietzsche-esque
    insanity and sibling lust     – a condition HMOs are often loathe to cover.
    Plus, think of the horrific janitorial costs as thousands of men shift
    uncomfortably, attempting vainly to hit the urinal whilst their collective
    crotches are on fire.

    There are certainly other reasons for this steady decline in
    pubic health. These include:

    • pediatricians and family doctors
      reluctant to talk with their patients about sexual health for fear
      of finding out just how the lollipops handed out after each visit are
      truly used by oversexed teenagers,
    • abstinence-only
      sex education programs – because preventing kids from learning about how
      to protect themselves in the event they want to bang their way through the
      cheerleading squad/football team/woodwind section of the school orchestra
      seemed like such a good idea at the time

    The
    bottom line is that half of high school seniors and more than 75 percent of
    college students in Minnesota are happily humping their way through their
    academic careers, and many of them think that love is all the antibiotic they
    need. That’s not even mentioning the staggering fact that 25
    percent of girls 14-19     in the U.S. have an STD. A problem with this scope
    may require a bit more than good intentions, a subscription to Penthouse and
    the occasional call to DTMFA from Dan Savage.

    To put an even finer point on it, before he started
    gnawing on the furniture and frothing at the mouth (but after he started
    chasing his sister’s skirt), Mr. Nietzsche said that, "…if a woman seeks
    education, it is probably because her sexual apparatus is malfunctioning."
    Given that we’re inexorably headed toward a day when the entire state
    experiences a burning
    sensation when it pees    , it may be wise to offer the education before the
    girls, or boys, have a chance to request it.

  • The Three-Pointer: 3rd Quarter Fold

    Game #74, Road Game #36: Minnesota 100, Utah 117

    Season Record: 19-55

     1. One-Way Jefferson

    Those who check the box score will surmise that Al Jefferson had one of his worst games of the season tonight as the Wolves were routed by Utah, who turned a close and enjoyably contested first half into a blowout with a 38-22 pasting in the third quarter en route to a 117-100 final. I’m posting this quickly and thus am unaware if Jefferson was benched for the entire 4th quarter because he was ailing, or Wittman was displeased with his performance, or merely because it was the frustrating back end of a two-nighter that the Wolves weren’t going to pull out in the final 12 minutes anyway.

    The line shows Jefferson with a remarkably anemic two rebounds, zero assists and 12 points on 5-13 FG and 2-2 FT in 27:49 of action. What the box score doesn’t reveal is that Big Al had one of his more dedicated and effective defensive performances of the year, limiting Carlos Boozer to 5-12 FG and just 12 points (although Boozer did grab 7 rebounds and pass for 4 assists). There weren’t any of the gaudy blocked shots that have raised the shoddy reputation of Jefferson’s defense in recent weeks (although he had a beautiful block that Joey Crawford, a once-great ref who had another in a series of bad nights in recent years, ruled a foul). But there was a stauch commitment to preventing points by the opposing team’s top scorer. For all the times I ripped Jefferson’s D while he was posting 24 and 15 in a mid-winter Wolves loss, I owe him the nod that he did himself proud on one end of the court once again tonight.

    And there’s the rub: Although not to the dramatic extent we saw tonight, there seems to be a correlation between the improvement in Jefferson’s defense and a slight dropoff in his points and rebounds. I remember two or three years ago when the Wolves started asking Trenton Hassell to play a larger role–a #2 or #3 option–on offense, and he told me in the locker room that quality defense took so much out of him that he wasn’t sure he could step up like that. (Hassell’s scoring did improve fairly significantly during that experiment and his defense dipped slightly.)

    The point is, Jefferson expends an enormous, and underappreciated, amount of energy getting his points. He’s scoring in the toughest part of the court, the paint, against teams whose top defensive priority is to stop him, usually with two players and/or specific schemes. And being an undersized center all year long, he’s also had to battle folks as big or bigger than him for rebounds. Throw in the bump and grind of deterring a gritty and wily low post scorer like Boozer on the tail end of a home-road back-to-back and it’s not surprising that the man came up short.

    2. Foye or McCants

    I am becoming convinced that there are Foye people and McCants people. Both players have really excitable and excreable aspects to their games and honest appraisals of both should resemble a roller coaster, given how inconsistent both players have been and how capable they are of engendering hope and disgust not only from game to game but stint to stint within games. I know I’ve lauded and lambasted each one with a yo-yo regularity.

    I confess that Foye has genuinely raised my ire more often this season, despite the fact that he’s played fewer games than Shaddy, and I think it’s because I believe Foye is more a part of the future firmament for this franchise than is McCants. I don’t imagine the Wolves are going to keep both players around for the next two or three years and if a choice is made, McCants will be the one packing his bags.

    The reason I feel this way is because when the team wiped the slate clean with the KG trade, much was made internally about getting high character guys who mesh in the locker room and on the court and foster the kind of synergy required to be a perpetual playoff team. And Shaddy’s volatility doesn’t fit that definition as well as Foye’s comparative "maturity" and magnanimity. Now there is a good chance this intuitive thinking on my part is inaccurate (for example, the entire dynamic may change if a stud point guard falls to the team in the draft or another ballclub likes Foye or McCants enough to make an attractive trade offer). That’s why I haven’t raised it before, and wouldn’t be talking about it now, except that I have to acknowledge that Foye’s foibles are more irksome to me than Shaddy’s.

    Like his complete inability to guard his man. A night after rook Rodney Stuckey showed him up, he stepped up in class in a major way going against Deron Williams, and Williams toyed with him. Sure, as happened last night, Foye posted decent numbers, and finished with 15 points and 6 assists. But after three quarters, Williams was a perfect 7-7 from the field, and had 13 assists and no turnovers. Can a defender be undressed any more thoroughly than that? D-Will’s dribble penetration consistently broke down the Minnesota defense, setting up a large advantage in points in the paint *and* better than 50% shooting from behind the arc. That’s why after three periods, Williams had a game-best plus +21 and Foye had a game-worst minus -21.

    Given that Foye is more the rugged type of point guard at 6-4, 213, and is coming off a significant knee injury, one might think a quick opponent like Stuckey would give him trouble. But then he should be a better matchup for Williams, who is 6-3, 205, and quicker of thought than he is of foot. Nope, resoundingly nope. So if Foye can’t guard Stuckey (27 points last night) and Williams, who can he guard?

    Now folks who are aggravated by McCants were probably throwing things at their televisions when Shaddy was ignoring his teammates and jacking up treys, or coming up a step slow on defense himself on occasion. It certainly felt that way on occasion. But the thing is, McCants made more than half his shots (6-11 FG), including his treys (3-5 from 3pt), and, as usual, posted a plus/minus (minus -5) that was relatively better than most of his teammates, an ongoing phenomenon that has occurred whether he’s starting or coming off the bench. Announcers Tom Hanneman and Jim Petersen frequently mentioned that McCants had a bad game last night against the Pistons–and he did shoot 1-9 FG. But I thought Foye’s performance was more injurious in the loss, and there was no mention of Foye’s bad game versus Detroit. Maybe Hanny and Pete are "Foye people."

    3. And As For the Small Forwards…

    Kirk Snyder has taken a step back since Wittman’s decision to reinsert Corey Brewer into the starting lineup. Tonight, defending Matt Harpring (the matchup that prompted Witt to give him more minutes early in his Wolves tenure), he was outhustled in the paint and in transition more often, and just didn’t have that spark he showed in his first few appearances off the bench and then always as a starter.

    Meanwhile, Brewer continues to be a high energy, high IQ performer who is a suspect shooter, to put it charitably, and physically overmatched on many occasions. Tonight he popped for a decent 4-9 FG and got to the line 4 times (albeit three of them in garbage time), but had just one rebound and zero dimes in 24:24.

    Bonus fourth point: J-Pete noted how Jefferson was being bodied by Mehmet Okur on D, who was also able to wrest rebounds away from Gomes down low, and called for a little Jefferson-Chris Richard tandem on the front line. It was a temporary plea to short-circuit the smallball. But I’ve talked about that enough already.

  • Chicken Bake Bonanza

    During a recent trip to Costco, a customer walked past me with 25 cases of Diet Coke in their wagon. Even by Costco standards that seemed a wee bit gluttonous. But who was I to judge? I was there to buy a pork loin the size of an anaconda. At the end of my shopping spree, my three year old son was cranky and hungry, and if I didn’t stop at the Costco food court to feed him I would’ve driven home down highway 100 with a god damn badger in the back seat.

    So I ordered up a jumbo hot dog, a jug of frozen yogurt, and something called a chicken bake. The calzone crust of the chicken bake had cheese melted on the outside and then was stuffed full of chicken, cheese, and bacon. It was like the seven deadly sin rolled up into one delectable crime and made edible. I gorged on the baked delight so fast I almost puked on my son. Sitting there at the metal picnic table, wrapped inside that steel cage décor, I’ve never in my life felt sicker or happier.

    How lame is my middle aged life when the highlight of my week is a baked chicken dish?

     

  • Dialogue

    No pictures from the rehearsal yesterday. We forgot. Too many other things came up. Hopefully, we’ll get them tonight, and I’ll post them tomorrow — which will be my last post and where I’ll make a final pitch for you to pick up that phone and make a reservation.

    I suspect that hearing how the sausages get made isn’t as interesting to the sausage eater as the sausage-maker, so in the interest of providing a taste of the sausage, here is just some dialogue from Everywhere Signs Fall that I like hearing the actors say:

     Guy: How do you sleep in this heat? You sleep nude? I bet. I can imagine.

    Juliet: (dry) O my. I guess I’ll have to slap your imagination.

    —–

     Juliet: If you must move your mouth, make sounds that play a tune.

    —–

    Jeremy: The universe is a mystery and scientists are like nature’s private dick.

    —–

    Guy: She’s dead. Now she looks sadder.

    ——

    Guy: This is Phoenix. People melt to death here. I’ve watched ’em.

    ——

    Juliet: I’m twenty-six. My father died for no reason and then my mother died exactly eleven months later.  I think I’m entitled to cynicism. (PAUSE) Aren’t you sorry?

    Guy: About what?

    Juliet: My parents. Death.

    Guy: Sure. I’m sorry about death.

    ——

    Guy: I looked. Couple ol’ guys in the bar since their retirement, someone’s drunk wife from two nights ago still here, later afternoon, and me. I looked at you. What else did I have to do?

    ——

    Juliet: I was thinking of the sky, the sunrise. The sky. – I’m a photographer. – how easy it would be to get lost in the desert in that sky.

    —–

    Guy: Point that gun like you know what you’re pointing at, Kiddo. Aim for something at least.

    —–

    Guy: Guy. Nice to meet you. We weren’t probably introduced.

    Jeremy: We can see that you’re a guy.

    Guy: My name is Guy.

    Jeremy: O

    Juliet: It doesn’t matter.

    Guy: Tell that to my mother.

    —-

    Jeremy: Time is an illusion. The essential — the essential evidence — we discover outside of the present. We study and replay memories.

    —–

    OK. I could do this all day. I’ll stop. Come hear the dialogue starting April 18 at Loading Dock Theatre. It’s fun. . . And I haven’t even got to the really intense stuff. 

  • The Three Pointer: Giving One Away

    AP Photo by Paul Battaglia

     
    Game #73, Home Game #38: Detroit 94, Minnesota 90

    Season Record: 19-54

    1. A Rough Night For Foye

    There is more than one goat in a game where the Wolves blew a 21-point lead and wilted down the stretch against a Detroit Pistons team resting arguably their top three starters–Chauncey Billups, Rasheed Wallace and Rip Hamilton. But in a contest that was obviously Minnesota’s for the taking, point guard Randy Foye was especially noticeable in his inability to deliver at either end of the court.

    It certainly didn’t begin that way. In the first quarter it seemed apparent that the Wolves were keyed up to win their 5th straight home game and that the Pistons were mailing it in. Especially impressive was the chemistry between Foye and Al Jefferson, starting 70 seconds into the game when Foye fed Jefferson for a slam dunk. It happened again at the 7:21 mark, and a third time–this one finishing with a Jefferson jump hook–at 1:09 to play. The period finished with Jefferson going 4-4 FG, three of them on dimes dropped by Foye. Couple with an aggressive 5-5 FG by notorious clanker Corey Brewer, the Wolves had raced to a 30-18 lead via 9 assists and a 14-6 rebounding edge.

    The pattern continued with both benches on the floor during the first half of the second quarter, Minnesota pushing the lead to 43-22 with 6:50 to play before the break. A Flip Saunders team had just 4 assists in the first 17:10 and Wolves were heading for a blowout.

    Then coach Randy Wittman subbed back in his starters (Jaric, who had entered at 11:43, was already in the game. Brewer came back at 6:16; Jefferson and Foye together at 5:30; and Gomes at 4:35. Yet the Wolves didn’t score a single field goal in the period after Chris Richard’s put-back dunk with 5:38 to play. "Up to that point, we were moving the ball and making the extra pass," Wittman said, and indeed the team’s assist/turnover ratio at the time was 13/4. Added Wittman, "I think we gave this game away in the last six minutes of the second quarter."

    Pistons’ coach Saunders agreed, and even pointed to the specific moment. "I’ve always said one play can change a game and for us no question it was when they missed those four free throws in a row [two by Jaric and two by Jefferson] and we went down and scored and cut the lead to nine." That was during a 16-2 Pistons run that had them back in the game, down just 5, 49-44, at the half.

    Coming out for the second half, Minnesota went back to their bread and butter–Jefferson in the low block. After getting one measly FG attempt in the second period, Big Al scored 7 of the team’s first 10 points in just the opening 2:25 of the third to bump the lead back up to 59-51. At that point Jefferson had 19 very efficient points on 7-8 from the field and there was still more than 21 minutes to left play. But Saunders found a pair of matchups he liked–Tayshaun Prince posting up either Corey Brewer (for 6:43) or Kirk Snyder (for 5:17) and rookie backup point guard Rodney Stuckey (playing for Billups) taking Foye off the dribble. Together, Prince and Stuckey combined for 19 of the Pistons’ 21 points in the third to keep the Wolves’ lead contained at 7, 72-65, heading into the final period.

    But with Jefferson on the pine, the Wolves endured another scoring drought in the first three minutes, enabling the Pistons to tie the game once more. Jason Maxiell in particular was owning the boards, and a cold Rashad McCants kept clanking jumpers. But then Craig Smith executed a nifty pass in the corner to set up Jaric for a trey (The Rhino’s 4th assist) and McCants finally stopped shooting and started dishing, finding Richard for another slam and then, after Gomes and Jefferson returned to action at 5:46, Shaddy fed Big Al for a layup 17 seconds later as Pistons big Amir Johnson committed the foul. Wittman chose that time to sub in Foye for McCants. I asked three journalists around me who they’d rather have in the game right then, Foye or McCants. Everyone (including me) said McCants–it just wasn’t Foye’s night. Jefferson converted the free throw to make it 83-80 with 5:29 to go. And then Foye pissed away the game.

    Yes, Foye nailed a trey to flip a two point deficit into a one point lead with 2:33 to go. Yes, Foye hit a back-arching floater driving across the lane to make cut a three-point deficit down to one with just 31.6 seconds left to play. And yes, Foye’s line doesn’t look that shabby at all: 18 points (on 6-14 FG), 5 rebounds and 4 assists versus just two turnovers.

    But Foye couldn’t stay with Stuckey on D, as the rook drew four fouls on Foye in the final 4:29; none of them the sort of strategic grab meant to pray for missed FTs to cut a lead. In fact all of them occurred with the teams within two points of each other. Stuckey was 7-8 FT as a result, and also stuck 14-foot jumper to break an 88-88 tie in the final minute. Asked why Foye couldn’t stay with Stuckey, Wittman at first pretended he didn’t understand the question (or maybe he was just fatigued). When I clarified–was it bad foot speed, overplaying the dribble, inexperience?–the coach replied, "By labelling it that, you are just making excuses. You [meaning Foye] have got to defend."

    At the other end of the court, Foye’s inability or disinclination to get the ball to Jefferson was driving Big Al crazy–his last field goal attempt occurred with 4:45 to play. With little more than a minute to go in a tie game, Jefferson was literally jumping up and down demanding the ball in the half court. This display of pique was most unwise because it practically obligated Foye to force-feed the rock–something the Pistons well knew, and stole the entry pass Foye attempted on the left block. (Pin that Foye turnover on Jefferson. Pin the half-dozen times Jefferson, who finished 9-12 FG, didn’t get the ball when he should have in the 4th quarter, on Foye.)

    After the steal, Stuckey came down and canned that pull-up jumper over Foye. Wittman called a timeout and subbed in McCants for Brewer to spead the floor a little bit, as the Wolves were down 2 with 45 seconds to play. Out of the timeout, with 15 seconds still on the shot clock, Foye attempted and missed a difficult fadeway over a charging Maxiell. Asked if he’d gotten the shot he wanted on the play, Wittman didn’t play dumb. "No," he said flatly. "There was a switch and we didn’t take advantage of it. Maxiell [Jefferson’s man] switched out and we didn’t take advantage of the mismatch." As the Wolves walked off the floor, there was steam coming out of Jefferson’s ears as he pursed his lips and shook his head. Foye finished at minus -14, five points to the bad of Brewer’s second-worst minus -11.

    In the first and third periods, Jefferson was 8-9 FG, Foye was 4-7 FG with 4 assists, and Wolves outscored the Pistons by 14. In the second and fourth quarters, Jefferson was 1-3 FG, Foye was 2-7 FG with zero assists, and the Pistons outscored the Wolves by 18.

    2. Blistered By the Bench

    Their bench kicked our rear end," Wittman announced after the game–no mean feat, given that three typical Piston benchwarmers were starting in place of Billups, ‘Sheed and Hamilton. McCants and Craig Smith–two Wolves with eFG% that are among the highest on the team–combined for 3-19 FG and 0-4 from beyond the arc. Overall, Detroit’s subs outscored Minnesota’s 40-17, led by Walter Hermann, who dominated the Brewer/Snyder tandem and occasionally Jaric for 11 points.

    3. Kudos

    In tonight’s press kit, Wolves stat guru Paul Swanson put together individual totals for the players both in the past 12 games (not counting tonight’s loss) when Minnesota went 7-5, and in the previous 5 contests, all of them losses. The biggest difference in the
    7-5 and 0-5 playing rotations is that Marko Jaric get the minutes normally allotted to the injured Sebastian Telfair. And whereas Bassy’s assist to turnover was an impressive 6.0/1.6 during that 5-game losing streak, Jaric’s marks over the last dozen are 5.0/1.1, and he shot 50% (versus Telfair’s 40.5% in the previous five) besides.

    Kirk Snyder likewise is shooting well–50.6%–over the past dozen, is getting to the free throw line through aggressive penetration, and is defending as well as Corey Brewer. Bottom line, if no one knew who was the heavily-invested first-round pick and who was the recently-acquired player from whom not much was expected, people would be as likely to name Snyder as the keeper right now as they would Brewer. No bias there (I actually like Brewer, as most folks are aware), just fact. Tonight Snyder tied Jaric with a team-best plus +9, while, despite his hot early shooting, Brewer finished at minus -11.

    Ryan Gomes was among those who had a tough night shooting (3-10 FG), but in classic Gomes fashion did enough little things right to register a plus +2. Before tonight, Gomes had converted half his field goal attempts and was averaging 17.8 ppg over the last dozen. His improvement and the development of Foye in the backcourt have enabled the Wolves to shoot a surprising 49% as a team since the all star break.