Lone Ranger

McHale eventually consented to three extensive interviews for this story, and each time he unilaterally brought up the synergistic potential of that trio. It was a potentially special foundation, and his railing against the perfidy of agents may well be justified, but that is the reality of the league in which he is an executive. (Not to mention that McHale always played hardball in his own negotiations as a Celtic.)

There also is the flaw McHale himself concedes: In the rush to surround Garnett with already mature talent before the superstar’s contract expired in 2008, he sacrificed value and long-term potential. The gambit worked briefly in the 2003-04 season, but backfired in trades with the Clippers and Boston in which the Wolves surrendered precious draft picks and gambled on mediocre role players with crushing long-term contracts.

Regardless of how the Timberwolves play in the next couple of years, it is a safe bet that Kevin McHale’s tenure with the team is drawing to a close. Taylor’s loyalty to McHale is already a source of derision and a drag on the team’s ability to maintain season ticket sales. The owner has made no secret that he is grooming assistant general manager Fred Hoiberg as McHale’s replacement, and another hopeless year would almost necessitate a change. On the flipside, McHale is proud and competitive enough to leave only after he’s satisfied that the team can move forward on a firm foundation.

If there is a case to be made in defense of McHale’s tenure with the Timberwolves, it is that only now, for the first time in thirteen years, does he have a ballclub in sync with his philosophy of how to play the game—a shocking and sad admission for a figure as basketball stubborn and headstrong as McHale.

McHale is most often criticized for squandering Kevin Garnett’s talent and scapegoating a great coach by firing Flip Saunders. But one of the best-kept secrets of the McHale era has been how philosophically incompatible he was with both his coach and marquee player.