Timberwolves 116, Knicks 99: Good enough
A homecoming five years in the making
“While we understand that some Knicks fans could be disappointed” could be the first line of a recap of the New York Knicks’ 116-99 loss to the Minnesota Timberwolves last night. But that’s not where the words are from. Those words were the beginning of the statement the team released in July of 2019 announcing the signing of Julius Randle. Usually the addition of a 25-year-old with the inside-out scoring versatility of a forward, the rebounding chops of a center and the creative abilities of a guard is reason to celebrate. But who Randle wasn’t was always a bigger deal than who he was.
Randle wasn’t Kevin Durant, the prince who most of 2019 had been promised – or at least rumored – to be Broadway-bound. He certainly wasn’t Durant plus Kyrie Irving, the Boris to KD’s Natasha. And Randle’s first year as a Knick didn’t do him any favors, when he was the first Knick to average three turnovers a game since Eddy Curry (Amar’e Stoudemire, Raymond Felton and Jeremy Lin all topped that mark under Mike D’Antoni, but his fast-paced offense was like the juiced-ball era for turnovers). Even Mike Breen couldn’t hide his exasperation watching Randle spin into disaster over and over again.
Randle wasn’t supposed to work out. Most guys who come to this town and let the fans down the way he did don’t recover. But he bounced back in year two, winning Most Improved Player while becoming the first Knick to lead the team in total points, rebounds and assists. Before Brunson was inducted into the Humanitarian Hall of Fame for taking less money than he could have to re-sign, it was Randle extending for less than top dollar, and if you can remember the last Knick star to do that before him you’re full of shit.
Kristaps Porziņģis had Kit-Kats for legs but was so insistent on getting a rookie max he forced a trade to get it. Carmelo Anthony wanted to be canonized in 2014 for taking $29 million a year over five years instead of $30 million – three years after forcing the Knicks to trade half their roster for him instead of signing him as an unrestricted free agent a few months later, all so Melo could lock in a two-year extension he knew wouldn’t exist when the next CBA took effect. Amar’e Stoudemire only announced “The Knicks are back” after nailing down every dollar he could up front. Hell, Patrick Ewing got a sweetheart golden parachute extension when he was 34, one that had him vowing to retire as a Knick; before it was up he was publicly threatening to sign with Miami.
Randle wasn’t Jalen Brunson. He was never as controlled, neither in his game nor his public persona. Brunson is savvy, understated, cucumber cool. Randle is raw, expressionist, exothermic. Brunson, at his best, gives chessmaster, like he’s three moves ahead. Even when Randle is at his most magnificent, there’s a wild streak to it, the sense that the train could jump the rails. It’s exhilarating but rough, like riding a wooden rollercoaster.
Randle wasn’t big in big moments like Brunson has been. I could give you reasons. The collective 2021 Knicks were Not Ready For Primetime Players, pratfalling out of the playoffs against Atlanta. Randle gets most of the heat, probably because for all our financial poverty we’re slower to pick up on our poverty of time, and “Randle sucked” is a lot quicker than “The absence of Mitchell Robinson made Clint Capela look like Moses Malone, while RJ Barrett, Reggie Bullock, Immanuel Quickley and Elfrid Payton shot 35% from the field and 32% from deep.” Two years later Randle made the mistake of suffering a severe ankle injury late in 2023, compounded that poor judgment by returning before he was healthy for the playoff matchup with Cleveland, screwed up royally re-injuring the ankle late in that series and then had the gall to come back a few days later for the second round against Miami.
Randle wasn’t around for the second half of last season. Another injury, this time a separated shoulder, cost him the last few months of the regular season and the playoffs. The euphoria of the Philadelphia series and bitter battles with Indiana show no trace of his presence. He didn’t put up a 50-piece or hit a game-winner. He was never on the floor when the Knicks won a playoff series. If you’d been asked at the start of last season “Which Knick who struggled in the 2021 postseason will to some extent redeem themselves in the 2024 postseason?”, you’d have guessed Randle, not Alec Burks. You’d have been wrong.
Randle wasn’t the instant impact in Minnesota that Karl-Anthony Towns has been in New York. KAT’s a top-10 MVP candidate in the early days of a deal that pays him $50-$60 million the next four years; he was acquired to be the finishing piece for a championship team. Randle is a Wolf because someone abhorrently wealthy wants more. Randle wanting fortysomething after five years of exemplary work on two deals he outplayed rubbed a lot of Knick fans the wrong way. He didn’t deserve it, they said, or he wasn’t worth it. Not for this team, one fully committed to title or bust. No room for sentimentality. Win, baby, win.
Last night, five players on Team Title Or Bust played 36 or more minutes. None were Cameron Payne, who’d gone supernova in the second quarter, scoring 16 points in six minutes. Payne’s performance was particularly pulchritudinous given Brunson struggled, shooting just 5-of-13 in the first half. In the third quarter Brunson remained mostly quiet, missing three of five shots while failing to register a single assist. Payne sat on the bench the first 10 minutes of the quarter. He played fewer minutes in the second half than Jericho Sims.
Randle didn’t have the dream homecoming Towns did when these teams first met in Minnesota. He only took six shots and made just two, both later in the game. He wasn’t his usual self on the glass – Anthony Edwards, OG Anunoby and Josh Hart (natch) all had more rebounds. He did have six assists, though there were four turnovers. There was no emotional postgame catharsis, at least none made-for-TV. Randle exchanged a few words with Brunson, said what’s up to OG and went to the locker room. He gave what he had when he was here. The store is now closed.
Randle isn’t alone. We’ve all loved someone who didn’t love us back quite as much. Poured ourselves into people, jobs, causes that never would have gotten going without us but that kicked us to the curb before it all came together. Moved when we’ve liked where we were; moved somewhere we never wanted to. Lotta talk the Wolves hope Randle declines his $30 million player option next year, so they can use that money to rebuild a team they had no business breaking down. If Randle picks up the option, there’s a good chance his home fans will turn on him. If he declines it, odds are no one is going to offer him anything better. His is the fate of many a good soldier: to end up a stranger in any land.
While we understand that some Knicks fans could be disappointed with last night’s result, it helps to be consistent. Who Randle isn’t has always meant more to this town than who he is. Last night he wasn’t the KD booby prize, wasn’t the overmatched or injury-depleted playoff letdown, wasn’t a numbers game for cap nerds to foam at the mouth over. He was Julius Randle, one of only four Knicks since the title-winning years to earn three or more All-Star selections, who went from consolation prize to cornerstone to counterweight in the Towns trade. Last night, in the moment he was announced as a Wolves starter, Randle wasn’t a Knick. In that moment, finally, who he wasn’t was good enough.