Al Jefferson: Minnesota's Franchise 2.0

In the offseason, Jefferson rededicated himself. He started by canceling his summer vacation plans in Prentiss. While most players were still relaxing on the beach, Jefferson was in Boston, submitting to a grueling, four-hour-daily training regimen complete with weights, wind sprints, and endless shooting drills. He also started to think about food differently. With the aid of a private chef and nutritionist, he swore off the fried chicken and sweet potato pie of his childhood and learned to appreciate baked fish, grilled chicken, and steamed vegetables. The weight melted off. His rookie season, Jefferson's body fat hovered around 25 percent. Now, it was below 8 percent. He was a 6'10", 255-pound Adonis.

After two surgeries—one to remove bone spurs in his ankle, the other an emergency appendectomy—Jefferson was both injury-free and in the best shape of his life. He took his third season by the throat. His breakout game came in December against New Jersey. The Celtics fell behind by 20 points early, but with his teammates regularly dishing the ball to him down low, Jefferson scored 29 points and snared 14 boards in the come-from-behind victory, which sparked a five-game winning streak.

By the end of the season, Jefferson had more than doubled his output of the previous year, averaging 16 points and 11 rebounds a game. With his performance, Jefferson was confident he'd be a Celtic for a long time to come. "I proved myself to Boston," he says. "That I belonged."

A couple of months later, as Jefferson cruised up from Prentiss to catch a plane back to Boston at the Jackson airport, his phone rang.

"What're you up to?" asked Danny Ainge, the Celtics' GM.

"I'm on my way to the airport," Jefferson answered.

Ainge told him to turn around. A trade was in the works, and he wouldn't be needed in Boston. He was going to Minnesota, Ainge told him. For Kevin Garnett.

As Jefferson drove back to Prentiss, competing thoughts raced through his head. "I was sad, because people in Boston were like family to me," he says. "I'm the type of guy, if I'm committed somewhere, I put everything into it. My heart. My soul." But he also realized it meant a chance to lead his own team, just like he'd done in the AAU. "For Kevin McHale to say, 'Okay, I'll trade Kevin Garnett for Al Jefferson,' that was big-time for me."

 

KEVIN MCHALE DOESN'T make a lot of time for interviews, but Al Jefferson is one subject he's more than willing to expound upon. On a frigid early February morning, he's on the practice court, wearing his trademark long-sleeve Timberwolves T-shirt, and he's on a roll.

"The first conscious thoughts I had on Al were his high school statistics. It was like, 'C'mon. I know it's just high school, but he can't actually be doing this. Is anybody counting these things?'"

Then, McHale recalls with a content smile, he saw the tape: "He was one of the best high school basketball players I've ever seen."

Of course, when Jefferson was available in 2004, McHale was in no position to act on his assessment, since the Wolves were still forfeiting draft picks in penance for the secret Joe Smith contract. When it came time to trade Garnett, however, McHale honed in on Jefferson, and he made no secret of his intentions. Recalls Jefferson: "I was looking at all the talk they had: Kevin Garnett going to L.A. Shawn Marion going to Boston. But no matter where Kevin Garnett went, I was going to Minnesota."

In Jefferson, McHale saw a throwback: a back-to-the-basket big man in an era when so many teams rely on high screens, outside shooting, and smaller players driving the lane. It didn't hurt that Jefferson's silky inside moves also reminded McHale of his own, for which he'd created ever-more elaborate nicknames, such as "Worm & Squirm," "the White Salamander," and "the Slippery Eel."

Jefferson's willingness to sign a contract extension before season's end, likely leaving a few million dollars on the table, also impressed McHale. After Stephon Marbury torpedoed the franchise in 1999 by turning down a $61 million extension and demanding a trade, McHale had little tolerance for wrangling over money.

When asked if he's happy to have Jefferson's style of play dictating the team's offense, McHale gives a wry smile. "Yeah, I never thought the game should be played any way other than that," he says, taking an implicit jab at Kevin Garnett, who, for all his unmistakable greatness, is not a close-to-the-basket scorer. "That's my opinion."

McHale, of course, has a lot riding on Jefferson. As the team's decision-maker on personnel issues, it's his reputation that has taken the biggest hit. His past two draft-night choices—taking Randy Foye over Brandon Roy in 2006, and Corey Brewer over rookie of the year candidate Al Thornton in 2007—have done little to make his case. Al Jefferson, it's safe to say, is his last, best hope.

 

BEFORE TIP-OFF AT the Wolves' season opener against Denver, George Karl, the Nuggets' ever-candid coach, squeezed in some pre-game trash talk. "I'd have never traded Kevin Garnett," he proclaimed to reporters.

Karl wasn't the only Doubting Thomas. Most observers picked the Wolves to finish dead last in their conference. USA Today went so far as to rate their odds of winning the NBA title "a billion to one."

The Wolves did little to defy expectations. Against the Nuggets, the Wolves were crushed by Carmelo Anthony and Allen Iverson. With the Orlando Magic in town a couple nights later, the Wolves kept fans in suspense until the third quarter, when Dwight Howard overpowered Jefferson and slam-dunked his team to an eight-point victory. Facing the Washington Wizards a couple of games after that, the Wolves led going into the fourth quarter but still managed to lose by a dispiriting 16 points.

If Minnesota fans were wondering what a superstar looked like, LeBron James was there to show them in late November. Jefferson battled admirably in the low block, scoring on quick layups and putting back his teammates' misses to cobble together a 30-point night. But James scored 10 straight points in the fourth quarter en route to a game-high 45, burying the Wolves, who lost for the eighth time in their first nine games.

After the game, Jefferson sat sullenly in front of his locker, which is cluttered with shoes, undershirts, and the NBA-standard-issue canister of spray-on deodorant. Standing before him were a dozen reporters. A skinny guy in the middle of the scrum spoke up. "Does this team have a leader?" he asked.

Jefferson met the reporter's eyes with malice in his own.

"What do you mean, does this team have a leader?" he shot back. "Of course this team's got leaders. It's got lots of leaders."

A few weeks later, the headline on the front page of the Star Tribune said it all: "Wolves: Worst team ever?" The article pointed out the Wolves' record-low TV ratings, the half-empty arena, and the team's pattern of falling apart in the second half. At 3-21, the article went on to note, the Wolves were in contention for the worst record in the history of the league. That mark, 9-73, was posted by the 1972-73 Philadelphia 76ers, a team described at the time by The Sporting News as "spare parts from other clubs, not necessarily in the best working order."

That evening, Jefferson led the Wolves to their fourth win of the season, a thrillingly improbable 131-118 manhandling of the Indiana Pacers, in which Jefferson scored 29 points and grabbed 13 rebounds. In the post-game press conference, Wolves coach Randy Wittman got after the Star Tribune reporter who wrote the story. "These kids, they've got feelings, too," he said. "We're all human beings, and that hurt."

But the Wolves did little to bolster their case, losing their next eight games. Worse, they weren't even keeping it close. For a nearly three game-stretch, they never led. And at an early January practice, teammates had to get between Sebastian Telfair and Marko Jaric before they came to blows. Jefferson's team was coming apart at the seams. His post-game comments after a thrashing by Dallas sounded like a spiritual with the hope wrung out of it. "We can't give up. It can't get no worse. We can't give up. We've got to keep fighting."

 

BUT A FUNNY thing happened on the way to rock bottom.

Playing in Denver in late January, the Wolves, who'd posted a 1-19 record on the road, gave the star-studded Nuggets and their silver-tongued coach a jolt. Coming out strong in the first half wasn't a huge surprise. But with a balanced attack that included both a solid game from Jefferson, who notched 20 points and 16 rebounds, as well as from mercurial marksman Rashad McCants, the Wolves carried a four-point lead with 76 seconds left.

As it quickly and brutally fell apart, Jefferson scrambled to keep his team in the game. But a hard foul that wasn't called on an attempted dunk, followed by a mad scramble to save a rebound only to be whistled out of bounds, stymied his efforts. Yes, Jefferson and the Wolves had lost again, and yes, their record stood at 5-34, but there was reason for hope: This was a heartbreaking loss, which is another way of saying it was a game they should have, or at least might have, won.

As the Wolves traveled to Oakland to play the bearded Baron Davis and his frenetic Golden State Warriors, they came with righteous passion. It served them well, as the Wolves took it to the Warriors, with Jefferson leading the team in the fourth quarter with six straight points. After Davis missed a last-second layup, the Wolves charged the court as if they'd just won the championship. It was a 109-108 victory, and no one could take it away from them.

The Wolves next returned home to take on the Phoenix Suns, the team with the best record in the league. Jefferson matched up against the explosive 6'10" Amare Stoudemire and dominated, scoring at will with a dizzying array of jumpers, close-in bank shots, and so many misdirections that he nearly broke Stoudemire's ankles. Jefferson scored 39 points—a career high—sparking the Wolves' improbable 117-107 victory. For the first time this season, the Wolves had a winning streak.

A few nights later, Jefferson bested himself. Scoring 40 points and hauling in 19 rebounds, he led the Wolves to victory over the New Jersey Nets after being down by 11 in the final frame.

After the game, Jefferson was dressing slowly in front of his locker. He'd only gotten to putting his socks on when his new attire got noticed.

"Nice shoes," a radio reporter remarked.

"They'd better be," Jefferson replied with a good-natured smile. "I paid enough for them."

Jefferson proceeded to put on a pair of black slacks and a matching sports coat over a fitted gingham dress shirt. At the far end of the locker room, wearing a towel and blinding passersby with his outlandishly glittery watch, Antoine Walker, the man who had coordinated with the tailor who made Jefferson's suit, looked on approvingly. "The All Stars in this league, they all carry themselves a certain way," he said. "Al's starting to learn that now."

The next morning, Jefferson was named Western Conference Player of the Week.

 

AS THE TALL, nimble man in a pea coat and silver power tie walked into the middle of a packed Target Center on a cold night earlier this month, the Timberwolves' public address announcer, sounding as though he was putting on a pair of comfortable old shoes for the first time in a long while, gave the visitor a hero's welcome: "Ladies and gentlemen, at six-foot-eleven, out of Farragut Academy High School.... Please welcome, Kevin Gar-NEEEEETT!"

The nearly 20,000 fans, many of them wearing green jerseys bearing their idol's new number, rose to their feet in a loud ovation. With measured poise, Garnett smiled a tight smile, pounded his heart a couple of times, and, after little more than a minute, walked off the court to nurse his bruised abdomen from the locker room. It was by far the loudest and largest crowd Target Center has seen this year.

On the home-team bench with his gaze fixed on the floor, Al Jefferson sat quietly through the reunion. Jefferson had been insisting leading up to the game that it was just like any other. But when you're playing your old team fresh off a trade, in front of the first full house of your brief Minnesota career, when at least half of that crowd bought tickets to see a player on the other team, and when it's your only game this season broadcast on ESPN—or anywhere else on widely available national television, for that matter—it's hard to argue it's just another game.

After three frustrating quarters stymied by the defense of Kendrick Perkins, his old practice partner, Jefferson made his case in the fourth quarter. With his team trailing by 2, Jefferson stood 15 feet from the basket, daring his defender to come closer. He took the shot and nailed it—his fourth straight basket for the Wolves.

Doc Rivers, the coach of the Celtics, called a time out. Jefferson high-fived his teammates hard enough to remove arms from sockets. As he walked to the huddle, his eyes were narrowed, his gaze ferocious. The cheering was almost as loud as it had been during Garnett's introduction—almost. But with the game tied and only seconds left, Jefferson passed up the winning shot. Marko Jaric missed an open look, and the Celtics got the ball back, ran the length of the floor, and scored the game-winning basket on a put-back as time expired. Final score: Celtics 88, Timberwolves 86.

But if Al Jefferson had been paying attention to anything but his fury and disappointment, he'd have noticed the collective groan of the fans. They'd been pulling for him. Even the ones wearing #5 Celtics jerseys.