MINNEAPOLIS Ricky Rubio does not belong on paper.
That's where he's been imprisoned for months, though, relegated to reports and hearsay, reduced to "good" and "healthy" and "doing well." It's too flat, too colorless, too cut-and-dried. Rubio is the stuff of movement and noise. He's visceral, best experienced in a loud, adrenaline-charged dose.
The player who sat in a chair and talked about his knee was not Ricky Rubio, not really. The one who shot jumper after jumper with assistant coach Terry Porter wasn't either. Nor was the disembodied, lilting Spanish voice that echoed through the empty Target Center as the sound engineers checked the speakers pregame on Saturday. Even the guard warming up, circling the basket, shot, shot, shot wasn't quite him.
Ricky Rubio, the real Ricky Rubio, appeared with 1:47 remaining in the first quarter of the Timberwolves' 114-106 win over Dallas. He jogged onto the court amid chants of "Ricky," that devolved into, "Ole! Ole! Ole! Ole!" Too quickl...