Less than three calendar years ago, the Wolves were mired in one of the worst stretches of their history. That’s an unflattering label for a franchise that had produced plenty of competition for misery.
Between Dec. 1, 2019 and April 21, 2021 — spanning most of two seasons, with the start of a global pandemic mixed in — Minnesota went a combined 25-81. They were searching for just about anyone to join forces with Karl-Anthony Towns and (in the second year) Anthony Edwards, and they gave heavy minutes to an unholy collection of youngsters, journeymen and past-their-prime veterans.
To close out that 2020-21 season, with Chris Finch having taken over midyear for the fired Ryan Saunders, the Wolves went 7-5. Then they had the unexpected fun of making the playoffs the next season, followed by the relative disappointment of last year’s 42-win playoff team.
Given where this franchise has been for virtually all of the last 20 years, shouldn’t the only default setting for this year’s 40-17 team be pure joy?
If only the mind — and sports fandom — worked that way.
I’ve struggled to answer this question in a lot of contexts. Then I read the beginning chapters of Michael Easter’s book, “The Comfort Crisis.”
In talking to Harvard psychologist David Levari, Easter writes about something Levari calls “prevalence-induced concept change.” If that sounds fancy, Easter gives a nice description shortly after introducing the concept:
As we experience fewer problems, we don’t become more satisfied. We just lower our threshold for what we consider a problem. We end up with the same number of troubles. Except our new problems are progressively more hollow.