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  • Are YOU Killing the Food Network?

    Look, I think I’ve been honest right from the get-go.

    I’ve never been a foodie. In fact, I’ve always been a little squeamish about diehard foodies. And I stumbled into food writing because I was an out-of-work English professor who needed a job, not because I stayed up nights dreaming of the perfect creme brulee.

    God knows, I haven’t hidden this. My 2006 essay on Salon.com, Food Slut, provoked quite a stir, including daggers from Hans Eisenbeis, then editor of this very publication, who called me dyspeptic and narcissistic, and said that writers such as I "try to reduce the cacophony of their little corner of the world into a trickle valve of distilled meaning, but they must be careful not to let it be curdled by the acid of falsehood-by-simplification." (I swear, he said exactly that. You can read the entire stream of metaphor here.) And while much of what Eisenbeis said may be true, I think if he were a real, serious reporter, he would have interviewed my ex-husband to find out exactly how dyspeptic I can be.

    But I digress. . . .

    My point is, I’ve been dissing TV chefs and ice sculpture openings for years. But don’t think I’m not aware — painfully aware — that I am, in a sense. . . .all food writers are. . . .riding on the coattails of Emeril Lagasse and Rachael Ray and all those other hyper-irritating people who’ve made cooking the modern equivalent of Olympic ice dancing.

    And NOW, I read in yesterday’s New York Times that the Food Network has cancelled Lagasse’s show and plans to restructure its programming because — ye Gods! — ratings have dropped (and dropped significantly) for the first time in four years.

    Well, here’s my question: What’s your problem? Why have you — epicures of the first order who use the word chef as a proper noun (as in "Chef is one of my best friends") — abandoned the Food Network? And does this spell the end for dyspeptic, narcissistic writers who are curdled by. . . .oh, whatever. Is America’s romance with chefs and restaurants and all things "foodie" actually coming to an end?

    There are signs, you know. My co-blogger, Jeremy Iggers, recently wrote a piece about Zagat, the popular everyman’s reviewing system which has been picking up a head of steam. But also, consider this:

    On Tuesday, I went into a Juut Salon at Southdale. But this was not just any Juut; it was the one occupying the former Louis XIII space. Now, Treize (as it was called in the business) was the most anticipated new restaurant of all time — according to many — the year I started writing about food. Its owner, David Fhima, was sexy and long-haired and he had a suave accent. Everyone wrote articles about him and talked about his genius and showed him in Spandex, jogging around Lake Calhoun, while his palatial, Spectacurama restaurant on the edge of Southdale was being built.

    When Louis XIII finally opened, after a series of delays, there were chandeliers and velvet drapes and an $1,800 bottle of Remy Martin cognac socked away in the wall. That was 2004, during food’s heyday. Now, can you name a single restaurant opening in Minneapolis or St. Paul that will get the same level of media coverage or bring the glitteratti out to mingle while holding mango duck lollipops on a stick?

    Also, in case you missed this part, Treize has since closed and they’re now doing bikini waxes in the place where the kitchen used to be. It’s my assessment that the wave has receded. Restaurants are fast going back to being establishments where we, uh, eat. Damn.

    Seriously, folks, if you’ve found things to do that are more important than watching the Food Network — say, reading a book or taking a walk or having really good sex — I can get behind that. Narcissistic as I may be, I’m hoping you have more to do than sit rapt while Rachael Ray smacks her lips. And if this means the end of my free ride restaurant reviewing career, then so be it. I’ll find something else to write about. Don’t worry about me.

  • From the Scrap Heap: Richard Kunkel's Christmas Pageant

    A lot of folks around town thought there was something special about
    Richard Kunkel. Big things were expected of that poor fellow. Certainly
    no one believed that such a fine, bright boy as Richard Kunkel would
    stick around a tiny little jerkwater village like ours for the rest of
    his life. Many assumed Kunkel would follow his fathe into the Armed Forces, and would rise quickly through the ranks. Others thought
    certain that with that fine voice of his he would become a supper club singer. He was always getting up to sing at parties and special
    occasions around town, and he knew all the songs from the famous
    Broadway shows. As for myself, well, I thought perhaps Richard Kunkel
    would carve out a place for himself in the political arena. I always
    pictured him smiling and blowing kisses from the back of a train, waving
    goodbye to that little town of ours forever.

    But, no sir, it turns out that our Richard Kunkel didn’t have the
    ambition God gave a field mouse, and he never went anywhere. As he grew
    older it was always one odd job around town after another. The fellow
    couldn’t seem to hold a position to save his soul, and it was the death
    of his poor mother. After a time rumors began to circulate that Richard
    had a fondness for liquor and played cards with the priests for money.
    He never married, but he never did stop being the same friendly,
    outgoing Richard Kunkel the town had known as a boy. He never amounted
    to a hill of beans, either, which saddened all of us. You like to see
    your bright young people go out into the world to make something of
    themselves.

    Then one year Richard Kunkel did an unusual and entirely unexpected
    thing, a rather scandalous thing in our little scheme of things.
    Richard recruited some children from the church youth group and mounted
    a Christmas pageant from a play he had apparently written himself,
    based on some of the questionable stories regarding St. Nicholas of
    Myra. In actuality the play had absolutely nothing whatsoever to do
    with Christmas and focused almost entirely on the legend of St.
    Nicholas’ resuscitation of three boys –Timothy, Mark, and John– who
    had allegedly been slaughtered, pickled, and sold as meat during a
    fourth century famine. This peculiar incident was described by Richard
    Kunkel –and most clumsily enacted by his rankly amateur players– in
    obsessive and grotesque detail, complete with much shrieking, writhing,
    and the liberal spilling of false blood.

    This inappropriate production was staged as a prelude to a chili
    dinner in the church basement, and needless to say whatever point
    Richard was trying to make was entirely lost on the horrified
    spectators, most of whom were elderly folks from the local senior
    citizen center who had come expecting some celebration of the spirit of
    the season.

    Richard –playing a filthy and half-dressed pawnbroker (St. Nicholas
    being the patron saint of pawn brokers, or so Kunkel explained in the
    program notes)– narrated the play with a disturbing and incoherent
    zeal. There was much speculation that Richard was, in fact,
    intoxicated, speculation which was perhaps fueled by the fact that his
    character was swilling messily from a large bottle of whiskey
    throughout the production. A prop, Richard later claimed, but there
    were few believers.

    People need to recognize the effect one untoward incident can have
    on a man’s reputation in a small town. I’m not saying it’s always fair
    and square, but after Richard Kunkel’s little lark at the church dinner
    people’s attitudes towards him changed. He’d been a bit of a
    disappointment to that point, but this was something else entirely.
    Richard Kunkel went from a boy of failed promise to the sort of
    mystery nobody really wanted around. It’s sad, but that’s the way of
    the world.

    He finally left town a year or so later, and the word around
    here is that he’s working at a Fleet Farm up in Rochester these days.

  • The Three Pointer: Miami Vice

    Game #23, Road Game #12: Minnesota 87, Miami 91

    Season record: 3-20

    1. Sabotaged At the Two Guard

    The Miami Heat look terrible. Shaq is shockingly old, his hands lacking grip, his knees unable to help him stop on a dime–he committed two or three fouls (and fouled out) tonight simply bowling people over with uncontrolled momentum–not from passion by lack of muscular restraint against his enormous body mass. Dwyane Wade is obviously not close to 100%–he walks with a hitch and looks five years removed from NBA Finals MVP instead of 18 months. He clanged jumper after jumper. The Heat’s best player on the floor tonight was glue guy Udonis Haslem. And Wolves fans need not regret waving goodbye to Ricky Davis and Mark Blount.

    And yet Minnesota still spit the bit on this eminently winnable game. And this time around, it was the dysfunctional two-guards, Marko Jaric and Rashad McCants, who let them down the most. What happened to Jaric? Was it just a week or 10 days ago that he was playing the best ball of his NBA career, penetrating for layups, dishing off that penetration, and hitting clutch hoops in addition to his usual kamikaze defense? Well, he’s back in the tank. For the second straight game he was held without a field goal, had two of his three FGA blocked, and committed four turnovers, at least three of them simply stupid passes. Wittman yanked him after one such careless perimeter giveaway early in the third, and only inserted him after Rashad McCants fouled out late in the fourth. In no stint was he effective. The mystery continues.

    On a team that has trouble getting out of the 80s in terms of scoring, the ability of McCants to hit jumpers from the outside is desperately needed. Tonight he strode on to the court late in the first quarter and starting raining sweet j’s, ringing up 8 points that included a pair of treys in just 2:47. At the half he had 13 (5-7 FG), neatly counterbalancing Al Jefferson’s 13 in the paint and the Wolves owned a six point lead at the break.

    Any Wolves fan that wasn’t cursing at McCants in the third quarter must have been too busy switching over the Vikings game. Time after time–five times, actually, four of them from long range–the ball was either swung or otherwise found its way to Shaddy stepping up in perfect rhythm for an uncontested jumper. And every single time, the shot didn’t go. The stats will show that the Wolves lost just two points of their lead to the Heat in that 12-minute span, and headed into the 4th still up 64-60. But anyone watching know that the Heat, 2-8 at home and a patently past-their-prime patsy just waiting to be put out of their misery, had actually gained a little ground while consistently trying to give the game away. If McCants just hits two or three of those wide open looks. the lead is double-digits heading into the final frame and Minnesota wins that game.

    When it is all said and done, McCants is on the team because of his ability to stick a jumper from the perimeter and display enough penetrating skills to burn defenders who attempt to jam up that jumper. His line tonight, 19 points on 7-18 FG, doesn’t look as bad as the zero assists and four turnovers, but the simple truth is that Minnesota didn’t need Shaddy to move the ball tonight; the way the game played out, what they craved was for McCants to do what he is supposed to do–burn opponents who don’t cover him on the perimeter, and make them pay at the free throw line if they do get a body out there. Wade sank one fewer FG on four more attempts, but Wade also got to the line a whopping 20 times, including 14 FTA in the second half. McCants was 1-2 FT; Wade was 18-20. That’s how Wade got 30 and won the game while Shaddy got 19 and lost it. And no, I don’t expect McCants to be the second coming of Wade. But as the Wolves’ designated gun-slinger, it sure would be nice to watch him put a team away. It’s happened exactly once, versus Sacramento when he went off for 33. If he’s going to clang 10 of his last 14 attempts, he needs to draw more than one foul in the act of shooting for the entire game.

    By the way, Corey Brewer likewise rolled a goose-egg into the points-scored column, missing all four of his shots to run his current bricklaying to 2-17 over the past two games. Together, Jaric and Brewer produced more than 45 minutes of scoreless play tonight. Brewer did do a nice job hounding Wade however, and Ryan Gomes continued his modest but steady resurgence back from the doldrums of November and early December. Given that the Heat frequently played the two swingmen, Davis and Wade, together, it would have been a good time for Wittman to bump Brewer back to the two-guard slot and play him beside Gomes for a change.

    2. Dinosaurs Roam The Hardwood Again

    Michael Doleac got the start tonight, presumably because he spent the past year or two guarding Shaq in practice and also happens to be the tallest, heaviest MF Minnesota could throw at the Diesel. Handed the opportunity to once again play against his peers at power forward, Al Jefferson predictibly went off 13 points (6-9 FG) and 7 rebounds in the first half, then added 9 points and 13 rebounds even when Pat Riley threw Shaq on Jeff and had Haslem guard Doleac in the third period. I realize some folks think I rely on the plus/minus figure too much, and I really do understand its deficiencies. But when it keeps reinforcing a point, it behooves us to pay attention–especially when it provides statistical confirmation for what we witness with our own eyes. And our eyes tell us that Jefferson thrives at the 4 and struggles at center. Tonight, Big Al was plus +2 in the 26:42 he played alongside either Doleac or Chris Richard, and minus -5 in the 10:37 he played beside Chris Smith.

    3. Silver Lining

    If you’re reading thus far about a 3-20 squad, you probably deserve a little hope and positive thinking. Well, if the point of this season is to sift the talent and see who is skilled and tenacious enough not to fall through the cracks, there are a couple of players who deserve attention. The first is Jefferson, who went off for 22 and 20 and even chipped in a couple of assists, dominating Haslem and contributing to Shaq fouling out.

    The second is Sebastian Telfair, who has gone from suspiciously not sucking to warily pleasant surprise to maybe he’s not bad to a little, dare we say it, reliable play at the point guard position. I’m really beginning to enjoy Telfair’s shot selection and his mixture of jumpers and layups; his increasingly competent doubling-down on big men and his signature strip-down moves on players driving to the hoop. Bassy is playing all 94 feet and despite getting hammered–what should have been a flagrant foul on a straight push to the chest from Shaq on one drive, and crashing into the endline photographers while creating a turnover on the Heat–keeps the motor running. Tonight he had 17 points, 6 assists and just two turnovers in more than 37 minutes. In a perfect world, Telfair would continue to thrive, and Foye would come off the bench a la Manu Ginobili. The Timberwolves’ world is nearly the opposite of perfect, but this Telfair character is doing his part to prolong the fantasy.

  • FREE: Composers on Green Prozac

    LECTURE
    Learn How to "Green the Ghetto"

    With her motto “Green the Ghetto,” environmental justice activist Majora Carter has
    been working to eradicate America’s urban public housing problems in
    environmentally friendly ways. Carter will be the guest speaker at
    today’s 6th annual event Changing the Face of Housing in Minnesota, at
    St. Catherine. Come down to O’Shaughnessy and learn how we can improve this
    major national problem in an eco-conscious way. —Kate McDonald

    9 a.m., The O’Shaughnessy at the College of St. Catherine, 2004 W. Randolph Ave., St. Paul; 651-690-6700; free.

    MUSIC
    Not as Deep as R. Kelly

    Although I like the slant rhyme in the new alternative band Prozac Rat’s name, what really sold me on the band was the description of their sound on their myspace page. It was there where they boldly proclaimed their sound similar to R. Kelly‘s "Trapped In The Closet," without all the depth. For me, as well as for any good American, it really feels implausible to imagine the stylings of one Mr. R. Kelly minus any substance, and I firmly believe that one would have to hear it for themselves in order to believe it possible. You have a chance tonight at Prozac Rat’s free performance at the Uptown Bar. The event will also feature the musical beats of KITCAR and Mankato band the Common Era Cast-Offs. —Kate McDonald

    9 p.m., Uptown Bar, 3018 Hennepin Ave. S., Minneapolis; 612-823-4719; free.

    American Composers Get the Zeitgeists to Perform for Free

    For coming on thirty years, the Zeitgeists have been spreading their "passion and integrity" around town. See them tonight, as part of the American Composers Forum. As always, they’ll make their percussion, piano, and woodwinds sings out in support of community-based performance programs and local composers, which is what tonight’s event is
    all about. —Kate McDonald

    7 p.m., Studio Z, 275 E. 4th St., Suite 100, St. Paul; 651-755-1600; free.

  • Let the Good Times Roll

    I always become sappy this time of year because of the Holidays, and because I get to catch up and see how my friends are doing through the ART of Holiday Cards.

     

    I just received this Holiday card from Quincy Jones, and it inspired me to reflect on the fun memories I have growing up knowing such an incredible man.

    I promised you all that I would share with you stories that are personal and insightful about people whom we all "read about," but whom I have been lucky to know.

    Here is one of my favorite Quincy Jones Story. 🙂

    Many years ago, Quincy Jones was staying with my family while Michael Jackson was on tour and performing in Minneapolis.

    OK … so, yes, Quincy is a family friend; but he is also a genius when it comes to spotting talent.

    Q had just finished producing a pilot for TV called The Fresh Prince of Bel Air. He asked my family and I to watch the pilot show and tell him what we thought. Well, after laughing to the point of stomach aches, we told him that we LOVED the show but were curious about the Fresh Prince, a.k.a. Will Smith.

    Quincy told us that Will Smith was not just an upcoming Rapper but a
    very talented young man who could sing, dance, act, and was hungry. 🙂

    As the man that made Michael Jackson a household name and had us all dancing to "Beat it" and "Thriller"…….. How could he be wrong?

    Well, he wasn’t!

    Will Smith was a hit on the Fresh Prince of Bel Air — which is now at the top of the ratings in re-runs — and now he’s a Box Office God on the big screen.

    Did you see I am Legend? Well, even if you didn’t, a lot of other people did — which is why it is number ONE at the box office!

    As much as we all, as a society, resist ceding credit — and more money — to the rich and famous, maybe we should all remind ourselves of this: Will Smith was just a young rapper with a dream. He got discovered by the RIGHT person and is now a SUPERSTAR
    with another number ONE movie at the box office.

    You too have the same opportunity to be discovered.

    How? … Well, come up with a great idea. … Be willing to knock on A LOT of doors. … And to quote Will Smith, "Be genuine." You never know who will discover you; and if THEY do, NEVER take your lucky break for granted, because there will always be someone right behind you that is just as hungry and willing to work just as hard.

    Don’t take my word for it. Just look at Will Smith: He’s the perfect example of how hard work, talent, and appreciation can pay off personally and financially!!!

  • Reading in the Bath

    Hello to all at the Rake!

    We are just back from holiday in Budapest and wanted to tell you what a great job you do with this rag! So packed with articles and stories of quality it not only kept me reading at the Szechenyi baths but for much
    of the long plane ride also!

    Photo of Deborah Bushinski, shot by husband Ken Bushinski, having a relaxing soak and good read at the Szechenyi Baths in Budapest. The baths were a perfect way to relax prior to the evening opera a performance of Madame Butterfly at the Budapest Opera House on December 7th, 2007.

    Happy Holidays!

    Deborah Bushinski, Minnetonka
    Red Handed

  • Boned

    Noam Chomsky says a well-informed
    populace is a necessary ingredient to any democracy. In other words,
    we’re boned.

    Newspaper readership is down,
    and showing no signs of reversing the freefall. And since
    they’re not reading, Americans are forced to rely on such reliable
    political indicators as gut instinct, party affiliation, and the ever
    popular "he’s kinda cute in a presidential way" vote. Even more
    frightening, any attempts to address the problem have only compounded
    the issues.

    Here in Minnesota, redesigning
    our leading paper to include coloring
    pages     (sponsored
    by Crayola, naturally) hasn’t done a whole hell of a lot to improve
    the landscape, as evidenced by the recent layoffs (which Sid Hartman’s
    "close personal friendship" with Lovecraftian Powers have shielded him from, to date) and
    consolidation. Of course, this is further evidenced by the fact that C.J. still writes
    a gossip/grammar column
    for the Star Tribune, no one actually reads the City Pages for anything
    but restaurant
    tips    , advice on safe B&D play, and where to find the
    aforementioned B&D play    ,
    and the
    Pioneer Press    ,
    well, the Pioneer Press is in St. Paul. I hear they have hockey there
    these days.

     

    But what does this mean? What doom and plagues could something as innocuous as poor
    newspaper readership and content as fluffy as Anne Hutchinson left in the dryer for a day and a
    half bring down on our tranquil Midwestern existence? At best – a
    zombie apocalypse. At worst…a future in which Katherine Kersten serves
    as the Star Tribune’s first ever Page 3 girl. The truth is likely somewhere in
    the middle of these bleak predictions, but do you really want to risk
    it?

    Granted, I’ve already engaged
    in three of the five cardinal blogger clichés (bonus points to anyone
    who can name them in the comments below!), so I’ve probably already
    blown my wad of credibility into the digital Kleenex that is the Internet,
    but for the next week I’ll be doing my best to stave off the impending
    holocaust of the walking dead and mind-rending photography by taking
    a fresh look at the news of the day and providing some analysis. Or
    at least offer completely unconstructive viewpoints and commentary.
    And since I have nothing but disdain for Democrats, Republicans, Anarchists,
    Green Party members and those wacky Independence Party hosers (they’re
    Canadians, right? Only Canadians would put forth him as a gubernatorial candidate), I don’t
    have to choose my targets carefully. Or even aim, really.

  • Hark! Angels Are Slam Dancing in the Underwater Manger

    HOLIDAY EVENT
    Scuba Santa

    Make the standard mall visit to santa an extreme underwater adventure this year at Underwater World, in the Mall of America. Practice your underwater communication skills
    in order to tell santa what is first on your list this year. —Kate McDonald

    12-5:30 p.m., Underwater Adventures Aquarium, 4715 W. Broadway Ave., Bloomington; 952-883-0202.

    MUSIC
    A Capella with Holiday Cheer

    Who needs instruments when you have Christmas cheer? The group Tonic Sol-Fa
    is a college, a cappella, cult favorite, and their holiday tour promises to
    show that pure human voices are all you need to drum up
    festive merriment. Hark! These herald angels sing sans harps. —Kate McDonald

    7:30 p.m., Orchestra Hall, 1111 Nicollet Ave S Minneapolis; 612-371-5656; $20-32.

    Another Holiday, Another Year. Go Back 20.

    If holiday music isn’t your thing — perhaps you haven’t quite gotten the bug yet — why not indulge yourself a bit by traveling back a couple of decades. It’s time to bring out the angry girl of the ’80s. Remember her? She somehow managed to get you bouncing with her screams. Odd, no? Well, this angry girl was probably born in the ’80s, while the original angry girls were busy screaming, but The Friendly Enemies sure capture the mood. They’re no strangers to the Twin Cities. They play around town rather often, in fact. But somehow, in the midst of all the holiday cheer, they seem appropriate.. and fun.. a way to let off a little holiday steam. It ain’t easy, after all.

    9 p.m., Triple Rock Social Club, 629 Cedar Ave. S., Minneapolis; 612-333-7399; free.

    THEATER & PERFORMANCE
    The Holiday Pageant

    This gypsy-style retelling of
    the nativity story is well on its way to becoming a camp classic. Open
    Eye Figure Theatre’s     mastermind Michael Sommers created the rather
    scrappy production, which features an endearing blend of puppets, child
    actors, and marginal musicianship—not to mention the acting chops of
    local luminaries like Kevin Kling, Luverne Seifert, and Sarah Agnew. If
    these virtues aren’t enough to make you buy a ticket, then consider
    this: Sommers himself will appear onstage; and he’s grizzled and kind
    of hot. (In fact, Frank Theatre’s Wendy Knox recently named him one of
    the sexiest local actors    .) Playing Lucifer, Sommers appears onstage in
    red pleather and fur pants. But this glorious spectacle is all too
    fleeting, my friends. The Holiday Pageant plays for one show only—and
    that’s tonight. —Christy DeSmith

    7:30 p.m., Pantages Theatre, 710 Hennepin
    Ave., Minneapolis; for $25 tickets without the fees, visit the Pantages
    Theatre box office in person.

  • What's Too Much to Expect These Days?

    I just got a $500+ bill in the mail for a basic teeth cleaning. I have dental insurance, and I just got a $500+ bill in the mail for a basic teeth cleaning. Yup…

    Why exactly do I have dental insurance? Certainly if my teeth were crooked and I wanted to get them straightened, my insurance company would argue that it’s purely for aesthetic purposes, hence unnecessary. Is it to protect me from the consequences of a good bashing? — probably self-inflicted after receiving their bill…

    I lied about the basic cleaning.

    It wasn’t quite "basic." My dentist — or dental hygienist, as we no longer seem to be seen by an actual dentist — told me I needed a cleaning by quadrants. Apparently, at my age, two years is too long to wait between cleanings. I know. I know. But who has the time?

    My mouth was in bad shape. True. So, of course, I didn’t argue much when she said my mouth would have to be cleaned in stages. How many? Three. Four. We’d have to see.

    Three or four cleanings sounded like a scam to me. I’m always looking for the scam. That’s what happens when you’ve been a sucker for so long. We’re all fargin’ suckers.

    Three or four cleanings means three or four visits. Three or four visits means three or four payments, means three or four claims to the insurance company, means three or four copays on my part. Am I even supposed to have a copay? They certainly don’t care. I mean, explain to me how my partner and I — who have the same exact insurance — have two entirely different copays. Interesting.

    Aha! I wasn’t about to succumb to this scam. No. Not this time.

    Certainly, my insurance only covers one cleaning a year — or every six months, as most. Certainly I’d end up having to pay an excess of $1000.

    I was assured this was not the case. I was assured by my dentist — dental hygienist, of course. I was assured by the receptionist. I was assured by the billing clerk. I was not assured by my insurance company, of course.

    I’m a trooper. (I am quite sure I have never said that about myself before.) I bypassed all pain killers and underwent the cleaning in only two phases. HooYeah!

    Months later, with only a few weeks until my next dental cleaning, I have finally received a bill in excess of $500. Sa-weet.

    I’ll fight this one. I’ll lose this one.. as I always do. And yet I cannot help but fight this one. I must fight this one. I’m right. But you see, I know darn well that "right" has nothing to do with it. How did this happen?

     

  • The Three Pointer: A Big Bad Muddle

    Game #21, Home Game #11: Seattle 99, Minnesota 88

    Game #22, Road Game #11: Minnesota 92, Milwaukee 95

    Season record: 3-19

    1. Draw Straws, Flip A Coin, Plug a Leak. Or Not.

    After the Timberwolves fell to the equally young Seattle Supersonics at Target Center Friday night, I asked coach Randy Wittman if he had any sense of what he could expect from his team from game to game. "It feels like sometime you plug one hole and then another one leaks," Witt conceded.

    After another pratfall against a mediocre opponent Saturday night in Milwaukee, on-the-spot television analysts Jim Petersen and Mike McCollow were voicing similar frustrations. There simply is no consistency, at least as it relates to quality control and some semblance of reliability, on this ballclub. Praise or criticize any member of the team and you’re liable to look foolish within a game or two. Every week seems to contain different goats, players who were valiant heroes during the previous week’s losing cause. At the same time, guys you were discounting for their ineptitude suddenly show a pulse and make their case for being included back in the mix. Meanwhile, the losing continues.

    So sure, for what it’s worth, we can perform an autopsy on the past two games. Seattle’s zone defense totally bewildered the Wolves on Friday, especially Marko Jaric and Al Jefferson. Jaric had three of the team’s 8 turnovers in a 4 and a half minute span early in the third quarter that initiated a tumble from a five point lead (50-45 with 10:40 to play in the third) to a 14 point deficit (55-69 at 3:52 of the period). And once Jefferson was able to get the feed from the perimeter, he seemed to wait before making his moves, the absolutely wrong way to attack a zone.

    The next night, Michael Redd toyed with Corey Brewer at one end of the floor while Marko Jaric and the rest of the Wolves were unable to take advantage of Redd’s notoriously porous defense at the other end until it was too late. The stats will show that the Bucks shot 43% both overall and from beyond the arc, but that is factoring in the horseshit performance of Milwaukee’s bench, which bricked 14 of 15 shots, including all half-dozen treys. The Bucks starters were better than 50% from the field (32-62), and, led by Redd, a gaudy 60% from trey-ville (9-15).

    What a weird game. The Chinese rookie Yi and Craig Smith took turns embarrassing the other’s defense, with Yi finishing with a career-high 22 points on 9-14 FG, while Smith went off for 30 for the second time in 4 games–and a night after he scored just 3–on 12-17 FG. Combined with Al Jefferson’s 11-19, that gave the Jeff-Rhino tandem 23-36 FG, yet during the 26:32 the pair were on the court together, Milwaukee scored exactly as many points as the Wolves. Jaric attempted 3 shots and registered one lousy point in 34:58, during which the Wolves were minus -16. Brewer built the Taj Mahal out of bricks, going 2-13 FG.

    Smith had 12 in the first and 14 in the third. Ryan Gomes had a dozen in the second. Jefferson had 13 in the 4th and McCants chipped in another 12. And yet the Wolves hadn’t cracked the 90 point mark until McCants threw in a meaningless trey at the buzzer.

    I’m not going to pretend to know what it all means.

    Or, better yet, for the sake of sport, I’ll pretend I do.

    2. Foolhardy Analysis

    It probably isn’t a good idea to issue prescriptions for any team as constantly in flux as the Wolves, seemingly duty-bound to flummox logical examination. But what else are we going to talk about; the fact that FoxSports can’t sell ads for its telecasts and are thus giving us commercial-free halftime reports?

    If I were god, or perhaps just Randy Wittman, I’d avoid matching Al Jefferson up with legitimate centers whenever possible. If you go to the 82games.com website, click on Minnesota Timberwolves, and look at their Individual Player Floortime Statistics, you will see that, through December 15, the team’s top three plus/minus performers per 48 minutes are, in order, Chris Richard, Mark Madsen and Theo Ratliff. And you will see that, aside from the hapless Gerald Green and Greg Buckner (BTW, wouldn’t Trenton Hassell have looked fine guarding Michael Redd last night?), the two worst plus/minus Timberwolves per 48 are Craig Smith and Al Jefferson. Now, unless you think that Richard, Madsen and Ratliff are an indomitable trio and the Jeff-Rhino duo are rancid mincemeat, it would appear putting a legit center on the court beside Jefferson (or Smith) is a better idea than turning Jefferson and Smith into a frontcourt mismatch. Against relative bantamweight front lines such as those deployed by Atlanta and Phoenix, Jeff-Rhino is a formidable combo. But otherwise, eh, have you seen Chris Richard play the past couple of weeks? The dude is just 13 months younger than Craig Smith, and actually a month older than Jefferson, and arguably has learned the game as well playing for Florida’s Billy Donovan as Smith and Jeff have under the likes of Doc Rivers and Randy Wittman. And if Richard comes up a cropper, well, there’s Mad Dog and the Pale Rider, and maybe even Theo once the crocuses start to bloom.

    In the backcourt, while we all Wait For Foye with bated breath, it is time to put Marko Jaric and Rashad McCants in direct competition for the off-guard position. Both players possess beguiling strengths and crippling weaknesses in their respective games; both are maddeningly inconsistent, and both seemingly need perpetual outside motivation. To some extent, Wittman is already doing this on a more subtle level. The year’s most pleasant surprise thus far, Sebastian Telfair has earned the starter’s position and, at least until Foye returns, starter’s minutes. I’d continue starting Jaric beside Bassy, but deploy a quicker hook as soon as the need for McCants’s perimeter scoring prowess becomes manifest.

    Too often on a bad team, you wish you could combine the best attributes of two incomplete players into a single dynamite package. So it is with McCants and the offensive instincts of Corey Brewer. One could argue that McCants’ biggest weakness is that he seems to play only when he wants to–allegations of his selfish and inconsistent play have dogged him ever since Chapel Hill in college, and he’s done little to diminish them during his tenure here. Yet there have been recent signs of McCants getting the message: He’s cut down on his turnovers and begun to move his feet more on defense. But a flaw in Shaddy’s game that is seemingly beyond his control is finding a way to regulate  his offense in the normal flow of team play. Put simply, McCants usually performs as if he’s constantly looking for his shot or constantly, very consciously, trying to enable others–there’s no middle ground. His natural tendency is to go for his. The fact that he can be an effective teammate in terms of sharing the ball and fostering a flow attests to his court vision and basketball intelligence. The problem is that there seems to be no blend between the sharing Shaddy and the dynamic scoring Shaddy. Compare that with Brewer, who almost always plays within the flow of the game. Nearly every shot Brewer attempts is a "good" shot on paper, in that he is usually unguarded and set in position when he lets fly…which makes his putrid FG% even more of a concern.

    In any case, after subbing in McCants for Marko, I’d leave him in for as long as either the sharing Shaddy or the shooting Shaddy is paying dividends, and yank him when the doldrums of either behavior are apparent. Maybe he can figure it out. But I think it is fair to say that the potential upside of McCants is much greater than that of Jaric, and fills more of a need among the team’s current personnel. On the other hand, Jaric has shown enough positive flashes, and has at the very least gilded a path for Telfair to gain some rhythm and confidence, to earn good minutes as McCants’s foil. And if he beats out Shaddy fair and square, more power to him.

    At the small forward sl
    ot, the job should be Brewer’s regardless of whether or not Gomes is outplaying him. The reasons for this are plentiful: Gomes’s expiring contract, Brewer’s hefty upside, the pace and synergy Brewer can put into the game, the way he already has established a rapport with Telfair and Richard (two guys I’d be starting right now), and the flashes of glue-guy brilliance Brewer has demonstrated via rebounding, defense, and blocked shots. All that said, Brewer needs to stop shooting quite as much. Yes, as I just said, they’re "good" shots–for most everybody but Brewer. And while you don’t want to suffocate what are clearly well-refined basketball instincts in this precocious rook, the idea of banging the ball down inside to Jefferson–especially Jefferson versus a power forward–needs to be more firmly established. Or, when McCants is on the floor, feeding the Dying To Be Loved dude. Because bad shots from McCants are more likely to go in than good ones from Brewer.

    Off the bench, I think you have to reward the attitude of Antoine Walker, who has tamped down his pride and sucked up his resolve in order to be a positive influence on this ballclub. Right now Wittman is giving ‘Toine nearly all of his minutes at power forward. Since Walker ah, doesn’t defend the 4s very well, what about giving him some burn at the other forward spot? Specifically, I’d like to see what a lineup comprised of Richard and either Jefferson or Smith at the 4, with Walker, Jaric and Telfair on the perimeter, could do. That’s a long unit with the ability to penetrate, bomb from outside and own the boards–and, if Richard and Jaric are playing the roles, isn’t going to be embarrassed too much on defense.

    To sum up then, against teams with a legit center, start Richard alongside Jefferson and Brewer up front (Smith in for Richard if the frontcourt opponents are small enough). Teams may still guard Jefferson with a big, but hopefully Richard’s defense will overcompensate at the other end. (Only Buckner has a worse opponents-scoring per 48 figure than Smith, both because Craig has difficulty defending good 4s and because Jefferson doesn’t defend centers well at all.) Keep giving Brewer 32-40 minutes a game at the small forward slot, and give Walker, and–if fouls and other factors intervene–Gomes the remainder. Set up a backcourt rotation among Telfair, Jaric and McCants, and if McCants and one of the others isn’t playing well, consider kicking Brewer into the backcourt for brief stints and giving Gomes or Walker a little more burn. Green, and to a lesser extent Buckner, are emergency or garbage time subs only.

    3. Wittman On Parole

    Randy Wittman is having a better year on the sidelines than last season’s macabre performance in which he reigned over a horror show that even sapped the seemingly inexhaustible enthusiasm of Kevin Garnett. Having just admitted that this ballclub is incredibly unpredictible and inconsistent, it is difficult for me to "blame" Wittman for the squad’s 3-19 mark thus far, particularly with Foye and Ratliff logging a combined 161 minutes out of the 5280 that were available. Others are more confident castigating Witt, specifically because he can’t generate any positive momentum or patterns with this squad. It’s a chicken-or-egg situation. But if it continues throughout the season, and especially when (if?) Foye returns, the egg will be on Wittman’s face.

    While giving Wittman the benefit of the doubt, however, the doubts are growing. Unfortunately for Witt, the team seemed to start gelling in the three games Jerry Sichting roamed the sidelines, and little things that Sichting implemented–like resting Jefferson near the end of the third rather than the beginning or middle of the 4th quarter–Wittman has belatedly adopted. Some of this may be political, always an underrated hazard that most any coach not named Jackson, Riley, or Popovich must encounter. By contract and every other way imaginable, Wittman’s bosses in the front office, Kevin McHale and Glen Taylor, have planted a wet kiss on Al Jefferson and anointed him the cornerstone of the future. So when the game is on the line, Wittman has to think twice about running a pair of plays that both result in Jaric sinking layups, which is what Sichting called, using the element of surprise to his advantage, in Atlanta. And maybe Jefferson not getting his number called in Atlanta helps explain his shout-out of support for Wittman after he destroyed Amare Stoudemire the very next game. At the very least, Wittman was far more likely to draw up a play that had Jefferson going against Samuel Dalembert–and getting lunched for the fifth time in the game–in the final minute of a loss to Philly.

    Then there is the question of demeanor. A disciple of Bobby Knight, Wittman isn’t usually one to cloak his ire, or even disgust, as the Wolves are floundering. His sideline antics were blatant during the collapse versus Seattle on Friday, complete with quick hooks for lapses in concentration, tongue-lashings for players coming to the sidelines, and all manner of winces and frustrated body-spins and mutterings to himself. This would all be forgiveable, not to mention understandable, if the Wolves responded by righting the ship and learning from the tough love. Instead, Wittman’s second quarter tantrums merely led to more cluelessness and less hope and enthusiasm on the part of his troops as they gift-wrapped the victory ofr the Sonics in that fateful third quarter pratfall.

    The bottom line is that Randy Wittman has a record of 15-51 as head coach of the Timberwolves thus far. That’s close to Jimmy Rodgers territory–a chilly outpost indeed. The excuse of Foye’s injury will buy some time. But if the Wolves continue to play at an 11-win pace for the rest of the season, even as Kevin Garnett angles for a second MVP Award, the revenue streams for this stumbling franchise will increasingly run dry. And that, more than anything else, is what makes heads roll.