Rest in Peace Flip Saunders[/QUOTE] As much of a wacko as Garnett can be he always shows a huge heart with people he respects. Rest in Peace Coach Saunders. Thoughts to his close family and friends and to being thankful he is in a better place.
This situation is particularly sad for Kevin Garnett because of Malik Sealy's death which Garnett would say was something that greatly affected him.
Listening to KFAN MN Sports Talk radio right now and a lot of tears being shed in memory of Flip. They just had T-Wolves' broadcaster and former Houston Rocket Jim Petersen on who knew Flip Saunders from the late 70's when Flip was playing for the Gophers and Petersen was in high school. Here is a moving tribute from local sportswriter and broadcaster about Dan Barreiro. http://www.kfan.com/onair/dan-barreiro-11904/an-ode-to-the-funkadelic-14064944/ An Ode To The FUNKADELIC Some of us in the media business often roll our eyes about the considerable self-absorption revealed in the world of sports, among executives, coaches and athletes. And yet, the system invites it, often demands it. We ask: How did you make that shot? Do you remember the first time you made a catch like that? Where did you learn to throw that change-up? Oh, and where were you born, and who was your first mentor? Multiply that out, day after day, year after year, level after level, and it is not all that surprising that many in the sports business become so self-involved that they have a harder and harder time seeing the rest of the world. Or somebody who might be on the other side of a microphone or notebook. Just the other day, I was telling somebody a story about Flip Saunders. My sister, Babbi, has coached high school basketball in the Chicago suburbs for more than 30 years. A couple years ago, she was running through a tough stretch. I happened to mention it to Flip during one of our usual stream-of-consciousness phone calls. (This was not to be confused with some of our stream-of-consciousness text exchanges, like this one at a time when he said he was trying to lay low to evaluate his players at the end of the 2013-14 season. Flip: One play can change a game, one game can change a series, one series can change a season and I did tell you there would be 2 overtime games in the NHL last night. Me: I thought you were in the bunker. Flip: I am in-between. I am allowed to pee.) Or me, unanswered: “Tell (Corey) Brewer to stop swooping to basket like he’s Connie Hawkins. He’s not.”) Point is, it had been a difficult year for Coach Barreiro. “What’s her phone number?” he asked. “You want to call her?” “Sure, let me talk to her.” He called the next day. They had a nice conversation, which made her day. That was Flip, at least with me, the rarest of sports breeds: Not so self-absorbed that he ever forgot there was an outside world, with people trying to live in it. He rarely failed to ask: How’s that wife and daughter of yours? Enjoy Gia, he’d say, because all that stuff about them growing up fast is true. Every year when he showed up to talk to us at the State Fair, he’d first make a stop along the midway, win big at the free throw shooting contest, then present her with a giant stuffed animal. A couple Thanksgivings ago, out of nowhere, he texted this: “Dan: Happy Thanksgiving. We have so much to be thankful for -- family, friends and health. Enjoy the day with your sisters and family. I value the friendship we have. Flip” I come from the school of journalism that says you cannot be friends with those you attempt to cover and analyze. I’ve tried hard to stick to it, but that line became blurred with Flip, and looking back on it, I don’t think he gave me any choice. He was just too damned generous. And so, though we rarely socialized, we often talked on the phone. Sometimes for hours. About everything, every team, every sport. He threw out endless trade possibilities and proposals, 99 percent of which never came to fruition. Over the years, he alternately praised and ripped pretty much every player on the Wolves’ roster, and on several others. We occasionally argued. When he drafted Shabazz Muhammad in round one, a player he did not expect to select, he wanted to put the best face on it. He got former UCLA coach Ben Howland to call into the show. The interview did not go well, largely because I refused to accept at face value Howland’s effusive praise of the player I had seen at UCLA, especially against the Gophers in the NCAA tournament. About a hour later Flip called me off-air and said: “My sources say you did a bush-league interview with Howland.” I told him everybody has a job to do. Then he chuckled. He understood the game. He’d get cranky, but he would always call back. I’m pretty sure he was less than delighted with my view that when former Bulls coach Tom Thibodeau became available, Flip needed to go and get him. Which would have allowed Flip to return to the fancy executive office. Then again, if it had been up to me, he wouldn’t have even been in that office at all. He still would have been at ESPN, analyzing NBA games, not flirting with the University of Minnesota or Glen Taylor to take over the Timberwolves again. My point, on-air, and off: “You have all the money in the world. You had some success. Why get back into the meat grinder of an 82-game season and all the nonsense that comes with it? Plus with your ESPN job, you can keep doing the Funkadelic.” Flip’s Friday Funkadelic: It became one of our most popular radio segments and he was totally dedicated to the bit. “Emergency Funkadelic” was my text short-hand for: We need you on today to break down some breaking NBA story. Selfishly, I was concerned that if he returned to a basketball position, the Funkadelic would lose its flavor and Flip would lose interest. I was wrong. He remained dedicated to the segment, giving us access that coaches and executives rarely offer. “The truth,” he often said, “cannot be controversial.” The truth: I was also wrong to advise him to stay away from running an organization. The game wasn’t oxygen for Flip. Being in the game was the oxygen. He had to have it, breathe it, smell it, taste it. Being in the fray, not above it, was his nourishment. It made him, once again in this town, a basketball presence. That is the one saving grace on this sad day. Until his body would no longer let him, his sleeves were rolled up doing what he loved to do, what he was made to do. A lot of those late-night phone calls involved his vision of what the franchise, which he loved, in this town, which he adored and never really left, could become. It was a vision that, over time, was forced to change due to complications and on one memorable lottery night, even good fortune. Good fortune. The very expression sounds absurd today. I had to tell my five-year-old girl that Flip died today. She asked, “Why?” I said he was just too sick and needed peace. And she said as earnestly as you might expect a 5-year-old: “I wish Flip would come back to life.” I hugged her, then found the last text I sent to Flip, unanswered, from Oct. 1, when I had heard already that there just was very little hope. I didn’t know if he would ever read it, but I knew I had to send it: “Wherever you are, I’m with you tonight. More than ever.”
RIP Flip. He was just in the start of something that could be special. Minnesota's got an exciting young core. 60 is way too early to go. Cancer sucks.
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Incredibly sad. Hodgkin's lymphoma is very treatable even in older people. Very shocking to see him die so quickly after diagnosis. RIP Flip.
<blockquote class="twitter-tweet" lang="en"><p lang="en" dir="ltr"><a href="https://twitter.com/hashtag/Twolves?src=hash">#Twolves</a> will wear a commemorative patch on their jerseys this season in honor of Flip Saunders. <a href="https://twitter.com/hashtag/RIPFlip?src=hash">#RIPFlip</a> <a href="https://t.co/lykvIaewhl">pic.twitter.com/lykvIaewhl</a></p>— Timberwolves (@Timberwolves) <a href="https://twitter.com/Timberwolves/status/659084908443357184">October 27, 2015</a></blockquote> <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script>
<blockquote class="twitter-tweet" lang="en"><p lang="en" dir="ltr">Beginning tonight, the <a href="https://twitter.com/hashtag/Twolves?src=hash">#Twolves</a> coaching staff will wear these pins in Flip's honor. <a href="https://twitter.com/hashtag/ForFlip?src=hash">#ForFlip</a> <a href="https://t.co/Na2n8OQ3Mq">pic.twitter.com/Na2n8OQ3Mq</a></p>— Timberwolves (@Timberwolves) <a href="https://twitter.com/Timberwolves/status/661305267586383873">November 2, 2015</a></blockquote> <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> <blockquote class="twitter-tweet" lang="en"><p lang="en" dir="ltr"><a href="https://twitter.com/hashtag/Twolves?src=hash">#Twolves</a> staff also received this pin today. It mirrors the look of the commemorative patch worn by the players. <a href="https://t.co/PZd4OpzDgl">pic.twitter.com/PZd4OpzDgl</a></p>— Timberwolves (@Timberwolves) <a href="https://twitter.com/Timberwolves/status/661313464523100160">November 2, 2015</a></blockquote> <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script>
<blockquote class="twitter-tweet" lang="en"><p lang="en" dir="ltr">The <a href="https://twitter.com/Timberwolves">@Timberwolves</a> are debuting a Flip Saunders tribute patch during tonight's home-opener: <a href="https://t.co/o9zP5W9jZc">https://t.co/o9zP5W9jZc</a> <a href="https://t.co/fU7fZxaOiO">pic.twitter.com/fU7fZxaOiO</a></p>— ESPN (@espn) <a href="https://twitter.com/espn/status/661313334344441857">November 2, 2015</a></blockquote> <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script>
