If you truly want to know what it feels like to root for the Minnesota Timberwolves, all you have to do is watch the NBA draft lottery. The lottery plays out the exact same way every year. The night starts off with a feeling of dread, as you recall the disappointing season that's led to this moment: all the errant passes, the fluke injuries, the missed dunks. Then the ceremony begins — those stupid ping-pong balls start bouncing around in that dumb plastic bin — and no matter how hard you try to fight it, you can't help but fantasize a little bit. You start to think maybe this is the year the Timberwolves' luck changes. Maybe this is the year they jump up in the draft and get that missing piece they need. Maybe this is the year they reach their true potential. Then suddenly all those stupid ping-pong balls are taken out of that dumb bin, Cleveland is handed the no. 1 pick, Minnesota hasn't moved up in the draft at all, and we're back to feeling that familiar sense of dread.