Timberwolves 140, Knicks 134:
On a night that looked like Julius Randle’s coronation, another royal stole the show
As a supporter of reducing the NBA season by 8-10 games, the Minnesota Timberwolves are an easy supporting argument. As a Knicks fan, the Wolves mean nothing to and do nothing for me. They’re a (relatively) recent Western conference team with little history of their own and none that intersects with the New York Knicks. If they didn’t play the Knicks for three years, I pro’ly wouldn’t even notice.
In a season one episode of Everybody Loves Raymond, Ray Barone’s in-laws have invited his family, including in-laws, out to eat. The restaurant turns out to be so fancy it makes Ray’s parents uncomfortable; Debra, Ray’s wife, comes from a family of different values and resources. Ray’s mother Marie asks Lois, his wife Deb’s mother, “You’re really comfortable in a place like this? I mean, it seems so unnecessary.” Lois answers, “Well, of course it’s not necessary, Marie. It’s a luxury. But sometimes a little luxury is necessary.”
You put up with a lot of mundane waiting for the magic in life. So when it comes, whatever form it takes, best to appreciate it; who knows when you’ll see its like again? Such was yesterday’s 140-134 Timberwolves win over the Knicks in New York. When is a loss not a loss? When it doesn’t threaten your playoff positioning all that much while raining wonder down on your thirsty eyeballs. Yes, the Knicks lost. No, that’s not the takeaway.
Imagine NBA basketball at its worst. What comes to mind? Bricks. Turnovers. Stagnant ball movement. Stagnant player movement. Inevitability. To me, the saddest sight is when, in the final seconds of a close game, a star player dribbles into the teeth of the defense and just crashes into people, angling for the whistle.
Last night was none of that. The Knicks shot 59% in the first half and were down nine, because the Wolves shot an incredible 71%. The visitors, missing Anthony Edwards in addition to Karl-Anthony Towns’ months-long absence, had more than twice as many assists as turnovers, including diming nearly 70% of their baskets. Nine Wolves took shots; eight made half or more.
On the other side of things, Julius Randle could not miss. Really. Caesar scored 57, including 51 after three quarters; in that third he set a new team record with 26 in the frame. We’re talking side-step step-back 3s, off-the-dribble drives down the lane, even one yes-I-said-it positively Jordanesque baseline pull-up fadeaway. Check out his shot profile over the first 36 minutes:
Made 3. Made 2. Missed 3. Made 3. Missed 2. Made 2 free throws. Missed 2. Made 2. Missed 3. (end of first quarter heave that nearly dropped) Missed 2 to open second quarter. Made 2. Made 2 free throws. Made 2. Made 1 of 2 free throws. Made 3. Made 3. Missed 3. (halftime) Made 2. Made 3. Made 2. Made 3. Made 2. Missed 2. Made 2 free throws. Made 3. Made 2. Made 3. Made 3. Made 1 of 2 free throws.
Unfortunately we easily and repeatedly forget that the other guys are all paid to be there, too, and that while a top-20 talent like Randle has supernovas waiting to drop, the 200th-best player in the league is also capable of great works. Taurean Waller-Prince didn’t pour Heinz all over the floor like Randle did, but his shot profile over all four quarters was epic too:
Made 2. Made 2. Made 3. Made 3. Missed 2. Made 1 of 2 free throws. Made 3. Made 3. Made 3. Made 3. Made 2 free throws. Made 3. Made 2. Made 3. Made 2.
The last two buckets by Prince were nails in the coffin: his last three-pointer, coming with a little under two minutes to go, pushed the Wolves’ lead to four, their first two-possession advantage since more than four minutes were left in the third. Then with the Wolves up three and just under 20 seconds left, Jaden McDaniels missed a jumper, Kyle Anderson ended up with the rebound, and with the shot clock running low, Mike Conley found Prince for the lay-up that sealed the deal.
Sometimes these intra-conference games seem a luxury. But sometimes a little luxury is necessary. These weren’t two teams with a heated history, but the spectacle they staged is basketball at its best: when two teams are in such a flow, such a zone – offensive or defensive – that they end up looking like they’re playing together, 10 united, rather than five against five. Minnesota reminded us that even a team missing two top talents is still loaded with cats who can ball. When you see a Broadway play, you know the background characters are played by world-class talents. When you go to a concert, the opening act may or may not be your cup of tea, but you know they’re there because they have the chops. The Taurean Princes of the world don’t sell out stadiums like Karl-Anthony Towns might, but give any plant more light and it will grow.
The Knicks lost. It probably wasn’t a costly L, and it was fun to watch. Is axing 10 games a year worth it if it costs us magic nights like this? I dunno. Maybe that’s the takeaway. However rare it occurs, don’t close yourself off to magical avenues. There’s so little of it to begin with. Take it where you can get it.
