During the last three game minutes of the third quarter (which went on for roughly 45 realtime minutes), I wondered why on Earth there are thousands of us following this team to the point of near-obsession still. Why on Earth would we watch this dreck? Guards aimlessly dribbling around the perimeter, players who have been on the roster all of four days pointing out the 33rd missed rotation of the week, our favored youngsters hitting the pine and our soon-to-be free agents just playing out the string.

In the fourth quarter, the team pulled together and got a run going. It ended up looking close in the ledger; for a minute, true believers might have seen the route to an actual comeback in the works.

That's why we watch. Because this team, inconsistent as Delta breeze in September, can put things together for a minute. It falls apart, it always falls apart. But the glimpses tease just enough to give us that square millimeter of hope for the future.

There's always hope. There's always Kevin Martin, Jason Thompson, Spencer Hawes, Donté Greene. One might go in and out of consciousness, one might have a bad night, one might look flawless and foolish from play to play, one might never take his warm-ups off. But they are ours, and they help us get through the muck and the mire.

I'm glad we have a team, THIS team … even if it is the worst team in America. It's OUR worst team, dammit.

Go Kings. Go forth and, um, play basketball.