There are certain names that, when you bring them up to a Timberwolves fan, instantly transport you back to a very specific era. KG’s prime. Flip’s clipboard. The Metrodome Baggie still looming in the background. Today, that name is Troy Hudson, “T-Hud”, the accidental cult hero who, for one shining playoff series, briefly convinced us he was going to be a thing.
The Arrival
Hudson came to Minnesota in 2002 as a backup guard, the kind of free agent signing you barely noticed in the newspaper transactions column.
He was supposed to be depth. He was supposed to eat minutes behind Terrell Brandon (until Brandon’s knees turned to dust) and Chauncey Billups (who didn’t stick around). Nobody expected him to matter.
But this was the KG Wolves. If you could bring the ball up without falling down, hit an open three, and not get totally roasted on defense, you had a shot to play meaningful minutes.
The 2003 Playoff Fever Dream
Let’s set the scene: spring of 2003, Wolves-Lakers, first round, Shaq and Kobe trying to bully their way to a four-peat. Everyone assumed Minnesota was dead on arrival. And then… Troy Hudson, the guy nobody saw coming, decided to go full-on NBA Jam “he’s on fire” mode.
Game 2 was the pinnacle. Hudson dropped 37 points, hitting jumper after jumper, and for a couple glorious hours the Target Center was the loudest it had ever been. KG was the star, but it was T-Hud who had the ball in his hands, torching Derek Fisher, hitting pull-ups in transition, and even jawing a little at the Lakers bench. Phil Jackson, the Zen Master himself, was forced to send double teams at Troy Hudson. Let me repeat: Shaq and Kobe’s Lakers, in their dynasty run, had to adjust their defense to stop Troy Hudson.
Over the six-game series, Hudson averaged 23.5 points and 5.5 assists while shooting over 40% from deep. He played nearly 40 minutes a night, out of necessity and out of pure “holy crap, this is working.” Remember, this was a Wolves roster that didn’t yet have Sam Cassell or Latrell Sprewell. It was KG, Wally, and a bunch of role guys. Hudson wasn’t just filling a role; he was keeping Minnesota alive against a juggernaut.
For Wolves fans, it was surreal. We’d spent years praying for a reliable No. 2 scorer next to KG, and suddenly the guy we signed to back up Terrell Brandon was outdueling Derek Fisher and Robert Horry on national TV. Sure, the Wolves lost in six, because Shaq averaged about 28 and 15 while casually looking like an unmovable skyscraper, but the memory of Hudson raining jumpers and briefly swinging momentum is burned into franchise lore.
The Hangover
And then… it all kind of fell apart.
Hudson signed a six-year, $37 million deal in the summer of 2003. It’s the kind of contract Wolves fans still bring up at therapy sessions. He battled ankle injuries, inconsistency, and the kind of “is he a point guard or a shooting guard?” limbo that ruins careers. He went from KG’s playoff Batman to “Wait, he’s still on the roster?” pretty fast.
By 2005, he was mostly a spot-minute shooter. By 2007, he was done in Minnesota. The Troy Hudson Experience ended not with a bang, but with a shrug.
The Off-the-Wall Moments
- The Rap Career. Oh, you forgot? Troy Hudson put out a rap album during his Wolves tenure. It sold… let’s just say fewer copies than Prince’s greatest hits. The team actually had to deal with the “our sixth man is focused on his hip-hop career” storyline in real time.
- The “T-Hud Hot Hand” Games. Every Wolves fan has at least one memory of Hudson going unconscious for a random Tuesday night stretch: three after three after three, KG screaming encouragement, the crowd acting like they were watching Reggie Miller reincarnated. Of course, this was usually followed by a 2-for-13 stinker in Milwaukee.
Legacy Check
When you think about the turn-of-the-millenium Wolves’ sad playoff history, Troy Hudson is one of the few “fun footnotes.” He’s not Steph Marbury, the great “what if.” He’s not Wally, the All-Star who never really hit that next gear. He’s the guy who randomly became the answer to a trivia question: Who torched the Shaq-Kobe Lakers in the first round in 2003?
Answer: Not KG. It was Troy freaking Hudson.
The Final Word
Hudson’s Wolves career is like a cult classic movie: messy, uneven, a little embarrassing in parts, but unforgettable in a way only true fans appreciate. You wouldn’t call him a star, you wouldn’t even call him consistent, but for one playoff run he gave Minnesota basketball fans pure, unfiltered joy.
And isn’t that what being a Timberwolves fan is all about? Taking the weird little wins where we can get them, holding onto them like family heirlooms, and laughing about them 20 years later.
So here’s to T-Hud, the rap-album-recording, Laker-torching legend of spring 2003.
